15: Chapter 15 My Own Project?

A faint, lingering smell of something burnt wafted through the laboratory air.

It was from an Electrophoresis tank that had timed out again.

Chen Youhua stood quietly by the workbench in the corner, like an inconspicuous green plant.

He didn't mean to be a show-off, but whenever an operation took an obviously clumsy detour, or when a logical link in an experimental design snapped in his mind with a click...

A near-instinctive obsession with efficiency and correctness would push him to speak up.

His voice wasn't loud, even carrying a hint of a newcomer's restraint, but it was always like a precision scalpel, instantly cutting through the fog.

"Senior Sister Li,"

He saw Senior Sister Li Wei pick up a Pipette, preparing to adjust the concentration of a cell suspension.

"Um... based on the data distribution and volume model of the last metastasis, for this concentration gradient, the data from the low-concentration group might... not support a significant difference.

I've checked a few similar papers; their dosage designs could be a good reference, or... maybe try adding another group to the sample size?"

He handed over a printed literature abstract, his fingertips clean.

Li Wei's hand paused, her brow furrowing imperceptibly.

A freshman?

Criticizing an experimental protocol she had been doing for years?

In the microscope room, Senior Brother Zhao Gang was staring at a blurry dynamic image on the screen, his brow knotted in frustration.

Chen Youhua stood behind and to his side, looking at the screen, and hesitated for a moment.

"Senior Brother Zhao, this treatment time for the Microtubule depolymerizing drug... is it a bit too long?

I saw in the literature that its effective plateau phase passed long ago. Extending the time further will yield negligible improvements in effect, and instead might... introduce some inexplicable toxic interference.

How about... trying to shorten it by 15 minutes? It might be clearer with time-series dynamic observation?"

Zhao Gang snapped his head around, the look behind his glasses carrying the displeasure of being interrupted and a hint of scrutiny that asked, 'What do you know?'

By the reagent rack, Senior Sister Sun Qian was briskly preparing a lysis buffer.

Chen Youhua's gaze swept over the bottle of Triton X-100 in her hand. After hesitating repeatedly, he still spoke up softly.

"Senior Sister Sun, the proportion of Triton in your formula... for that weak-binding protein you want to capture, is it a bit... too aggressive?

The literature says higher concentrations tend to break apart the entire complex. Maybe try a lower concentration, or... switch to something gentler like Digitonin?"

He pointed to an inconspicuous bottle of reagent on the shelf next to her.

Sun Qian's movements stopped completely, her face written with shock.

The Western Blot results were taped to the light box, and Senior Brother Wang Zhe was sighing at a blurry, diffuse background next to a band.

Chen Youhua leaned in to take a look and pointed at that area.

"Senior Brother Wang, this diffusion... it doesn't look like a common edge effect. It looks more like... bubbles weren't fully removed during membrane transfer, or maybe a spot in the middle of the membrane accidentally dried out?

Next time after transferring, maybe it would be safer to stain with Ponceau S to confirm the overall efficiency?"

Wang Zhe's face flushed red, carrying the embarrassment of having his mistake pointed out and a hint of annoyance.

Initially, the laboratory's reaction to this freshman junior's meddling was shock, then disbelief, followed by a faint resistance or even resentment.

How could a little rookie who had only been there for a month critique these 'old hands' who had been struggling in the field for years?

Discussion? No, sometimes it was a heated argument.

The very air in the lab seemed to carry sparks.

But Chen Youhua was like a block of ice.

He didn't argue until he was red in the face; he just calmly laid out the theory, listed the data, and cited the literature.

Those cold logical chains, analysis that was frighteningly precise, and a familiarity with relevant literature as if he knew every detail by heart acted like invisible walls, making the seniors' rebuttals seem pale and weak.

What was even more infuriating was when they, with a 'treating a dead horse as if it were alive' or 'let's see what tricks you can pull' attitude, half-doubtingly followed his suggestions.

Li Wei adjusted the concentration gradient, and the data for the low-dose group that had troubled her for so long actually achieved statistical significance!

The model instantly became reliable.

Zhao Gang shortened the drug treatment time, and the dynamic change curves captured under the microscope were clearer than ever before; those annoying background interferences were indeed significantly reduced.

Sun Qian changed the lysis conditions, and that target band that had been flickering like a ghost and hard to capture in her WB results finally appeared clearly and stably on the Co-IP gel.

Wang Zhe redid the membrane transfer seriously, carefully removing every bubble, and that damn diffuse background vanished without a trace, the bands as clean and crisp as a textbook illustration.

Once, twice, three times...

The talk in the lab about Chen Youhua quietly changed its tune.

The voices of doubt gradually fell silent, replaced by a complex emotion mixed with wonder, admiration, and a bit of 'what the hell' disbelief.

No one knew who started it, but the name 'Chen Youhua' quietly became an adjective within the lab.

"Chen Youhua-style precision."

This became almost the highest level of recognition for experimental design or operation.

He was no longer just a silent observer in the corner.

When he stood quietly by a workbench again, the senior student operating would subconsciously stop. Their face would no longer show wariness or rejection, but an expression of inquiry, or even a faint reliance.

"Youhua,"

Li Wei put down the Pipette and pointed at the inhibitor concentration.

"Help me take a look; is this concentration okay? I just don't feel quite sure about it."

"Junior,"

Zhao Gang turned the computer screen toward him.

"Quick, help me look at this primer design. The Tm value looks fine, but this secondary structure... I always feel like something's weird. Will it affect the amplification?"

"Xiao Chen,"

Sun Qian held an antibody manual, looking a bit hesitant.

"If I use these two antibodies for double labeling, is the possibility of cross-reactivity high? I've checked the materials, but I'm still not sure."

Chen Youhua would lean in slightly, his gaze quickly scanning the screen or documents, his brain running at high speed like a precision instrument.

Combining known parameters and theoretical limits, he would give a concise, clear, and almost categorical conclusion.

"It's feasible, but I suggest adding a parallel negative control group to rule out non-specific interference."

"The secondary structure stacks at the 3' end, which might affect extension efficiency. I suggest optimizing a few base sequences, or... try appropriately increasing the annealing temperature."

"These two antibodies are from different hosts and have different subtypes, so the probability of cross-reactivity is very low. Supporting data in the literature is sufficient, so you can proceed with confidence. The key point is that blocking must be thorough."

His answers were often the final, set-in-stone execution plans.

The overall atmosphere and efficiency of the laboratory, especially the rigor of experimental design and the first-time success rate, quietly rose to a new level under his near-prophetic assistance.

Some pitfalls that might have wasted weeks or even months due to design flaws were invisibly filled in advance.

Senior Student Wang Zhe saw all of this, and when reporting to Professor Zhang in private, his tone was full of disbelief.

"Boss, this kid... is practically a living database plus a logic processor!

It's like he has a microscope in his head; he can directly see how those molecules run and change in the experiment!

Now several people in the group have a habit of asking him first before doing key steps. Hey, it's more useful than asking me!"

Professor Zhang listened, the gaze behind his lenses deep.

He remembered the way of thinking Chen Youhua had shown during the interview—a way that made him feel a generational gap. Now, in the daily operations of the lab, it was quietly reshaping the habits here with an even more direct and powerful force.

The value of this freshman could no longer be measured by simply doing odd jobs.

Chen Youhua himself didn't feel much about it.

He was just using this free time in the only way he was good at and most efficient at:

Theoretical deduction and optimization.

To integrate into this environment and prove his own value.

Every accepted suggestion and every successful prediction was accumulating heavy, undeniable chips for knocking on the door of that mysterious and powerful national-level project group.

Finally, the batch of cell cultures he was responsible for subculturing reached an experimental milestone.

He walked calmly to the clean bench, put on gloves, and his movements were skillful, steady, and meticulous, as if he were an experienced veteran.

Every step was as precise as a textbook.

Helping others solve problems was, after all, someone else's project.

He stood before the massive Confocal microscope; in the dark room, only the fluorescently labeled cell structures on the screen rotated and changed silently.

Those intricate skeletal networks, those tiny signaling molecules—how did they perceive the outside world? How did they react?

A thought in his heart, like a sprout breaking through the soil, became clearer and more determined.

He needed his own project.

Not doing odd jobs, not doing repetitive labor.

It was about posing a question, designing an experiment, finding the answer, and finally forming an achievement that belonged to the name Chen Youhua.

A paper in the true sense was the first solid step he had to take toward that ultimate academic goal.

Late at night, the dormitory was silent, save for the steady breathing of Zhao Lei and the others as they slept soundly.

Chen Youhua's desk lamp was the only light source, illuminating the thick notebook spread out before him.

The notebook had no fancy decorations, only dense handwriting, simple diagrams, and some key formulas.

He was organizing what he had seen and heard in the lab over the past month.

What problems were the seniors racking their brains over?

For which data did Professor Zhang's eyes light up most often during meetings?

Which of those expensive and precise instruments in the lab could give wings to his ideas?

The pen tip rustled on the paper, and sparks of thought collided and connected in the silence.

An idea gradually took shape, not a wild fantasy, but one rooted in a solid theoretical foundation and a thorough understanding of the laboratory's capabilities.

The entry point was small enough and highly feasible, but the angle of approach carried a heart-stirring touch of novelty.

In the blank space of the notebook, the outline of a simple title was sketched out.

His eyes, under the lamp, flickered with a focused and ambitious light.