Officer Yu shook his hand: "Professor Fang, sorry to disturb you."

Professor Fang nodded, indicating for them to sit down. He glanced at Officer Yu, then at Zhaxi, and said, "Go ahead, ask what you want."

Officer Yu got straight to the point: "Professor Fang, thirty years ago, you and Professor Zhou participated in the A-8 project together. I’d like to know the real situation of this project."

Professor Fang remained silent for a long time. He lowered his head, looking at the old photo album open on the table. Zhaxi glanced over; inside the album was a black and white photo of seven or eight people wearing White Gowns, standing in front of a laboratory building. On the back of the photo, a line was written with a pen: "A-8 project group photo, Spring 1991."

Professor Fang pointed at someone in the photo, his finger trembling slightly: "This is Huai Jin, only thirty-two years old at the time, young and energetic, the smartest person in the entire project group." His finger moved to another person, "This is Director Liu from the Ministry of Chemical Industry, the project’s promoter. He was later transferred, rumored to be going to the Northwest, and there’s been no news since then." He paused, his voice lowering, "This is me in the photo, young then, thought I was doing something incredible."

He closed the album, looked up at Yang Ping: "What do you want to know? Is it the A-8 toxicity data or why the project was suspended?"

Officer Yu said: "Both, especially, does Professor Zhou’s toxicity data have issues?"

Professor Fang’s eyes narrowed slightly, as if something had pricked him. He remained silent for so long that Zhaxi thought he wouldn’t speak again. Then he said something, his voice soft but Zhaxi heard clearly: "Huai Jin’s data, has no issues."

Professor Fang continued: "A-8’s toxicity is indeed very high. Huai Jin reported the data, with a dermal LD50 of 2.5mg/kg, this figure is accurate. Director Liu from the Institute of Agricultural Chemicals said their repeated experiment results were 1.9mg/kg, 30% lower than Huai Jin’s data. But both data are in the same magnitude, with the differences within acceptable range. Fluctuations in toxicity experiments are common knowledge."

He paused, his voice turning somewhat bitter: "The issue isn’t about whether the data is accurate or not. The issue is that someone didn’t want this project to continue."

Old Yu’s gaze sharpened: "Who?"

Professor Fang shook his head: "I don’t know, perhaps some people from the Ministry of Chemical Industry, perhaps competitors from other institutes, perhaps leaders who felt the project was too costly and its outcome uncertain. I only know that during the project review meeting, someone raised questions about the toxicity data, and then the issue was infinitely magnified. The final result was project suspension, awaiting third-party verification. But third-party verification was never done, and the project was never restarted."

Zhaxi couldn’t help but ask: "What about Professor Zhou? Was he held accountable?"

Professor Fang looked at him, with a somewhat complicated gaze: "Huai Jin wasn’t held accountable because he was the most knowledgeable about technology in the project group; without him, the project would have really ended. But Huai Jin himself, felt betrayed."

Old Yu asked: "Betrayed by whom?"

Professor Fang was silent for a few seconds, then said: "By everyone, by the Ministry of Chemical Industry, by the school, by... his Students."

Old Yu’s fingers moved slightly.

Professor Fang said: "After the project was suspended, Huai Jin was despondent for a long time. He didn’t understand why a project with technical prospects could be halted due to non-technical reasons. He started distrust in everyone, distrusted leaders, distrusted colleagues, and even distrusted his own students."

He paused, his voice lowering further: "Especially Chen Wei."

Zhaxi perked up his ears, Chen Wei, Professor Zhou’s student, founder of Vid Pharmaceutical.