That afternoon, Tony Snow had a packed class schedule. He attended every lecture with Clara Quinn, carrying a thick book unrelated to the current course material.
After their classes wrapped up for the day, the two had dinner together and then made their way to the library.
Tony logged onto one of the library's computers and searched for Molecular Plant Pathology. Two copies were still available. After locating the call number, he followed the shelving system until he found the book.
Carrying the volume in hand, Tony returned to their usual table and sat beside Clara, flipping through the pages with interest.
Clara looked over at him and raised an eyebrow. "Didn't you already master molecular plant pathology? Why are you still reading the textbook?"
"No, not really. When did I ever say I mastered it?" Tony replied, feigning confusion.
"You're kidding, right? You had that whole discussion with Professor Waters yesterday—and I asked you about it!"
Tony grinned. "Didn't you say you'd never seen me reading this textbook in the library? Well... here it is. You're seeing it now." He tilted the book in her direction like he was showing off a prize.
Clara narrowed her eyes and gave his shoulder a playful slap. Realizing he was just teasing her, she rolled her eyes, muttered something under her breath, and buried herself back in her own reading.
That evening, after they left the library and returned to their dorms, Tony spent time helping Liam Xiao with postgraduate exam preparation.
Liam's progress had been remarkable. With Tony's guidance, he had gone from struggling with basic concepts to performing at a level that gave him a real shot at admission to a reputable graduate program.
Originally, Liam's goal had been modest—just get accepted somewhere, anywhere.
But Tony believed that if Liam stayed disciplined and didn't slack off, he had a solid chance at getting into a Tier-2 research university, or maybe even one of the prestigious national universities if the admissions standards weren't too extreme.
Ultimately, though, the decision would be up to Liam. Unlike undergraduate admissions, graduate applications allowed only one school choice—unless the student later pursued a transfer.
Meanwhile, Zach Lattimer remained inconsistent—some days he played video games while studying, other days he read without touching his laptop. He had no clear pattern or direction.
Lucas Trent, on the other hand, had made a choice. After a few days of conversations with his girlfriend and a lengthy discussion with Tony about the company's future and its benefits, he had officially accepted Tony's offer to work part-time during the semester and transition to full-time after graduation.
Lucas's girlfriend also asked to join Tony's company part-time, and Tony had no objections—he welcomed the help, especially as the company was expanding and short on staff.
Whether Zach and Liam would secure solid futures was still uncertain, but for Lucas, the path was clear. As long as he stayed onboard, his career would be very promising.
April 29th passed without much incident. Tony's routine remained unchanged: go to class with Clara, carrying books that had nothing to do with the lecture, and then head to the library afterward.
He never found the repetition boring—after all, he was always absorbing something new. Even though he already possessed decades of future biological knowledge from his simulations, Tony never let himself grow complacent.
April 30th, the afternoon before the May Day holiday.
Tony and Clara had just finished their final class of the day and were heading toward the cafeteria when Tony took out his phone and noticed a message waiting for him.
He had kept the phone on silent. After disabling silent mode and unlocking the screen, he opened the message.
It was from Mr. Lee, the Human Resources liaison from Westbridge Institute of Science and Technology (WIST)—the university where Tony had agreed to begin his doctoral research.
The message quickly clarified the situation.
Apparently, Professor Ben Whitmore, the prominent neuroscientist Tony had hoped to study under, had been infuriated by Tony's earlier messages and flat-out refused to be his supervisor. He told Mr. Lee that Tony should find someone else—perhaps one of the dozens of other professors at WIST's Biomedical Division—if anyone else was willing to change their research direction for him.
But as for Professor Whitmore? Absolutely not.
Mr. Lee, not a professor himself, didn't have the authority to mediate, so he was simply passing along Professor Whitmore's message.
Upon reading the message, Tony immediately understood. Although his understanding of neurology far surpassed Whitmore's (thanks to decades of future simulation experience), he was still just a third-year undergrad. From Whitmore's point of view, his earlier words must have sounded arrogant and disrespectful.
Realizing the mistake, Tony sent a reply to Mr. Lee:
"I apologize, Mr. Lee. I realize I was thoughtless and spoke out of turn earlier.
That said, I genuinely believe that computational neuroscience and neuro-brain interface technologies are the future.
I already have several research concepts in progress, and I still hope to study under Professor Whitmore.
How about this:
Please let Professor Whitmore know that once the semester starts, I guarantee to complete two publishable research results in the field of neuroscience that would meet the standards of Nature within one month.
If I fail, I won't bother him again and will look for another supervisor."
When Mr. Lee read the message, he finally understood why Whitmore had been so exasperated.
Two Nature-level papers in a single month?
Was Tony Snow under the impression that Nature was some family-run newsletter where you could publish at will?
No matter how brilliant Tony was in math, biology wasn't something that could be brute-forced with genius alone. Experiments took time. Planning took time. Interpreting data took time.
Even organizing your results into something publishable required weeks—months, sometimes years.
Still, Mr. Lee maintained professionalism and simply replied:
"I'll let Professor Whitmore know. It will be his decision."
"Thank you, Mr. Lee," Tony replied.
Mr. Lee then took a screenshot of Tony's message and forwarded it to Professor Whitmore.
When Professor Whitmore saw the message later that evening, he nearly burst out laughing.
This kid seriously thinks neuroscience is like LEGO? That you can just slap a few ideas together and crank out top-tier papers in 30 days?
He didn't even bother typing a reply. Instead, he recorded a voice message and sent it back to Mr. Lee.
"Tell him this:
He can use all the equipment in my lab.
He can use any of my grad students, postdocs, whatever.
And if he really manages to produce two Nature-worthy results within one month after the term starts...
I'll let him be the professor.
In fact, he can be my supervisor."
The sarcasm in Whitmore's tone was unmistakable.
Mr. Lee, not wanting to escalate the situation further, responded with a brief acknowledgment and then forwarded a softened version of Whitmore's reply to Tony:
"Professor Whitmore is willing to consider your offer.
If you can truly produce the results you promised, he's open to resuming the supervision arrangement.
Otherwise, you'll need to choose another faculty advisor."
Mr. Lee knew full well: given Tony's earlier behavior—demanding a professor change their research direction before even enrolling—it was unlikely anyone else in WIST's Biomedical Division would take him on.
Honestly, Mr. Lee preferred that outcome. As far as he was concerned, Tony Snow's talents were far better suited for mathematics and computer science. There was no need for him to jump headfirst into biology.
As for the two research papers Tony mentioned?
He had planned to work on them anyway after starting grad school. This only moved the timeline up.