In downtown New York, there was a cheap boarding apartment named "Brook".
Most of the wallpaper on the walls of the room had peeled off, and two narrow iron-frame beds were piled high with scattered books and manuscripts.
Twenty-eight-year-old French chemical researcher Henry Dumoulin was pacing back and forth in the room holding a newspaper. The front page of the newspaper featured an illustration of Prime Minister Gladstone and Mr. Pasteur receiving a grand reception at the dock.
Sitting on the other bed was his companion, Klaus, a young biologist from the University of Göttingen in Germany.
Klaus was using an alcohol lamp to heat a can of cheap, standard red-label corned beef to serve as their dinner.
"Listen to the commotion outside; all of New York is talking about the banquet at the Astor Hotel tomorrow night!"
Henry stopped in his tracks and threw the newspaper onto the bed.
"Mr. Pasteur, Professor Helmholtz, Mendeleev... Every truly scientific brain in the world will gather in that hall tomorrow night. They will discuss the latest electromagnetic field models and exchange the latest insights on cell theory! And what about us? We spent all our savings, even borrowed money, and vomited for half a month in the third-class cabin of the Atlantic Ocean to come here—are we really just here to eat canned food in this leaky room?"
Hearing his companion's complaint, Klaus sighed and stirred the beans in the pot with a spoon.
"Calm down, Henry. We are just ordinary lecturers and are not on the candidate shortlist. We aren't even close to being among the thirty-five judges, and the Argyle Foundation didn't invite us in the first place. The banquet is private, and the security at the entrance is definitely stricter than a military camp. We can't get in."
"No! I must get in!"
Henry turned around, his eyes filled with fanaticism.
"Klaus, do you know how long my improvement plan for aniline dye extraction has been stuck at a bottleneck? A whole year! My advisor thinks my direction is wrong and directly cut off my funding. But at tomorrow night's banquet, Professor Liebig and Mr. Kekulé will both be there! As long as I can let them take a look at my manuscript, even for just a minute, as long as they can point out the errors in the formula, my research still has hope!"
Klaus stopped what he was doing.
He understood Henry's feelings.
Because he himself had also brought several slide drawings on plant cell wall division, and dreamed of letting Schleiden or Schwann take a glance at them.
For grassroots scholars like them who were struggling in Europe due to seniority and funding shortages, the banquet at the Astor Hotel was a ladder for them to touch their idols and change their destinies.
"But how do we get in?"
Klaus spread his hands helplessly.
"Are we supposed to knock out two waiters and change into their clothes to sneak in? Don't be foolish; we'll be caught and sent off to build railroads."
Henry bit his lip, his brain working at top speed.
Suddenly, his eyes lit up, as if he had grasped a straw in the dark.
"Arthur! Arthur Penhaligon!" Henry cried out excitedly.
"Huh? You mean that physics madman from the Royal Society? What about him?" Klaus was somewhat puzzled.
"Did you forget the newspaper before we came? Arthur resigned from his post at the Royal Society earlier and came to New York ahead of time. It seems he was hired by Argyle University with a high salary as a core professor of the physics department!"
Henry rushed to the bedside, dug out his suitcase, and found a clean shirt that was barely presentable.
"I've met Arthur a few times at academic conferences in Paris, and we even drank absinthe together to discuss optics. He is now a man of Argyle University and also one of the internal coordination experts for this selection event. He definitely has an invitation to the banquet, and maybe he can directly bring us in as academic assistants!"
Hearing this, Klaus also ignited with hope.
"But... would he be willing to help? After all, judging by what you said, it doesn't sound like you have a very deep friendship. Besides, bringing unrelated people into a core banquet of that level would also bring huge risks upon himself."
"We have to try, don't we? After all, this is our only chance!"
Henry quickly changed into the shirt and hastily wiped his face with water.
"I've heard that the professors of Argyle University who arrived early are currently temporarily accommodated in the luxury apartment area near Central Park. Let's go find him right now. Even if we have to kneel on the ground and beg him, we must get that admission quota!"
Grassroots scholars caught in anxiety and madness like Henry and Klaus could be seen everywhere in New York tonight.
For these intellectuals who crossed the ocean at their own expense, most of them had essentially wagered all their life savings and lives.
Upon learning that they could not reach that hall representing the highest wisdom, they all began to mobilize their meager networking connections.
Searching for those former classmates or casual acquaintances they had crossed paths with once at some conference, as long as the other party was a signed professor of Argyle University or an invited judge, they became the straw they clutched at to curry favor.
For a time, those Argyle University "upstarts" accommodated in the luxury apartment area suddenly found their doors being battered by knocks.
Inside a luxury apartment near Central Park.
Arthur Penhaligon was sitting in front of a warm fireplace, savoring a fine cigar. On his desk were several sets of experimental data just brought back from the laboratory.
Ever since joining the school, he had never had to worry about copper wires or vacuum tubes again. The resources here were abundant enough to make him feel both comforted and guilty.
Mr. Argyle gave him too much.
He could never pay it back, simply could never pay it back...
He could only repay Mr. Argyle by devoting himself to research and teaching his students well.
"Knock! Knock!"
The doorbell was rung urgently.
After the servant opened the door, Henry and Klaus stood awkwardly at the doorway.
"Henry? The little French dye genius?"
Seeing the young man at the door, Arthur was stunned for a moment before recognizing him.
"Professor Arthur... I am very sorry to disturb you so late."
Henry took off his hat, his attitude humble to the extreme, completely different from the haughtiness he displayed when cursing capitalists in the cafe.
Looking at their rain-soaked coats and the longing in their eyes, Arthur immediately guessed the purpose of their visit.
Because this evening, he had already received three batches of old European acquaintances coming to beg for banquet invitations.
Arthur did not refuse immediately; instead, a covert smile curled at the corner of his mouth.
Those were the words Mr. Argyle had instructed in an internal meeting a few days ago.
"Those scholars who cannot afford first-class ship tickets but are willing to give everything to come to New York are the true madmen who would risk their lives for science. The threshold for the banquet must be high, but we can leave a crack open for this bunch of madmen."
This was the order issued by the boss.
Arthur personally welcomed the two in.
"Come inside to warm up first. I know you are here for the Astor Hotel tomorrow night. Don't rush; before discussing that sacred banquet, I want to show you something and chat first."
Inside the warm living room, Henry and Klaus held the hot coffee handed by the servant, sitting awkwardly on the velvet sofa.
Their gazes followed Arthur.
Arthur walked over to the large walnut desk, pulled open the drawer, took out two exquisite invitations printed with the Argyle University crest, and pressed them beneath a thick stack of documents.
"Professor Arthur..."
Henry swallowed, unable to take his eyes off the two invitations.
"We know this request is very abrupt. We only need to stand in the corner as your assistants and will definitely not disturb the order of the banquet. As long as we can meet Professor Liebig and Professor Schleiden..."
"Of course... I mean, of course I can take you in."
Holding his own wine glass, Arthur sat down on the single sofa opposite them, interrupting Henry's plea.
"You are among the few young people I met in Europe who still maintain academic passion. But the question is, what happens after you meet them?"
Arthur stared into Henry's eyes.
"You show your aniline dye extraction manuscript to Liebig, and he points out the error in your formula. And then? Do you take the correct formula, ride in third class back to that leaky, cheap laboratory in Paris, and continue begging your mentor for money to buy a kilogram of high-purity alcohol?"
Henry's face turned pale, his hands gripping the coffee cup tightly.
This was precisely the tragedy of young European scholars.
No matter how good the theory was, without funds and equipment to convert it into experimental data, it was still just a pile of waste paper.
"Don't rush, take a look at this."
Arthur pushed the documents pressed on top of the invitations toward the two of them.
"This is the procurement list for laboratory equipment for the Chemistry and Biology departments of Argyle University this quarter, as well as a blank senior researcher employment contract."
Klaus opened the procurement list with trembling hands, and his breathing turned hurried after just one glance.
"Karl Zeiss's latest binocular microscope... twelve units? High-pressure constant temperature incubators... unlimited supplies of various high-purity reagents..." Klaus's eyes widened round.
"Good God, the entire year's budget of the Biology Department of Berlin University combined isn't enough to buy one-third of the equipment in here!"
Arthur leaned back against the chair, his voice filled with temptation.
"This is just the most basic configuration. Here, you don't need to curry favor with those senile professors, nor do you need to wait three months in line to use instruments. The boss's rule is very simple: as long as your research topic can pass internal review to prove its value, the laboratory budget won't be a problem."
Arthur pointed at the blank employment contract.
"The salary is three times what you make in Europe. Not only that, General Electric and Umbrella Pharmaceutical Company or other companies will have priority in acquiring any commercially valuable patents generated from your research, and grant you a five percent profit dividend. Here, knowledge can be monetized. You can wear decent custom suits to do experiments instead of eating canned food in a shabby apartment."
Henry and Klaus widened their eyes.
To these young people struggling at the bottom of the academic ladder, such conditions were simply irresistible temptation.
Enough to destroy all their loyalty to the so-called academic traditions of the Old World.
"So..."
Arthur pulled those two invitations out from under the documents, gently tapping them in his hand.
"Tomorrow night at the Astor Hotel, not only will you be able to meet the people you want to see, but if you sign your names on the back of the invitations and agree to enter as preparatory researchers of Argyle University, I guarantee you will get the keys to your own laboratory tomorrow. Now, the choice is in your own hands."
Without the slightest hesitation, Henry and Klaus grabbed the fountain pens on the table and signed their names on the back of the invitations.
To hesitate for even a second would be a disrespect to such treatment.
The moment the ink seeped into the paper, Old Europe lost two more vibrant young hearts, and the academic tower of the New World added two more solid bricks.
Similar lobbying and signing were constantly being staged all over New York on this night.
Those already-employed professors played the role of headhunters with extreme tacit understanding, heavily recruiting those European talents who walked right into the trap into the camp of Argyle University.
As for whether they would feel guilty toward their former masters?
Hehe...
Sorry, we're not close.
Don't come looking for me in the future, I'm afraid Mr. Argyle will misunderstand.
The next evening.
The entire block where the Astor Hotel was located had been blockaded by the Argyle Family's private security team.
The towering arc lamps on both sides of the street illuminated the place as bright as day. Countless New York City citizens and reporters who failed to get tickets were blocked outside the cordon line, stretching their bodies forward as much as possible.
Carriage after carriage stopped at the hotel entrance.
Getting off first were the thirty-five international judges who controlled the final voting rights. They wore the most formal swallowtail coats with solemn expressions.
Following closely behind were the twenty-five candidates as dazzling as stars.
Louis Pasteur held his wife's arm; Mendeleev tidied his somewhat messy beard; William Thomson (lord Kelvin) leaned on his walking stick, maintaining the reserve of a British aristocrat.
Of course, the most eye-catching was still the Prime Minister of the British Empire, Gladstone. As soon as he got out of the car, he caused a bombardment from the surrounding reporters.
Subsequently, hundreds of scholars, researchers, and university professors who managed to enter through various means or even by signing "indentured servitude contracts" also stepped through the revolving doors of the hotel one after another.
The intellectual essence of the entire nineteenth century converged in this building at this moment.
The top-floor banquet hall of the Astor Hotel was decorated luxuriously yet without losing academic solemnity. There was no vulgar band playing, only a few top pianists playing soothing Bach in the corner.
In the center of the banquet hall was placed a huge circular long table, prepared for the candidates and core judges. Around it were well-arranged round dining tables for other scholars to be seated.
When everyone was seated, the two heavy carved doors of the banquet hall were slowly pushed open.
The originally noisy conversations instantly subsided.
Everyone, whether the high-and-mighty British Prime Minister or the low-level lecturer who had just signed a contract, cast their gazes toward the door.
Felix wore a perfectly tailored black formal suit, and accompanied by Frost, walked into the banquet hall.
He walked straight to the small podium at the front of the banquet hall, pressed his hands on the edge of the platform, and his deep eyes swept over the faces present.
"Gentlemen."
Felix's voice echoed in the dome of the banquet hall, without any amplifying equipment, yet it clearly reached everyone's ears.
"Welcome to the New World. Welcome to the dining table belonging to truth and the future."
"Everyone present here includes pioneers who have deciphered the laws of the universe, physicians who snatch lives from the hands of the Grim Reaper, masters who record the human soul with words, and politicians who sway the world's pattern."
Felix's gaze swept across Hermann von Helmholtz and Louis Pasteur in the front row, finally pausing for a moment on Gladstone's face.
"Compared to all of you, my identity appears very vulgar. I am a businessman. A capitalist whose mind is only filled with how to turn one cent into one hundred dollars."
As soon as these words were spoken, a slight commotion arose off the stage.
Many scholars exchanged glances with one another.
They had seen too many hypocritical tycoons, men who always liked to use all sorts of gorgeous rhetoric to conceal their own greed.
But someone like Felix, in such a solemn occasion, straightforwardly admitting his own vulgarity right at the opening, was completely unprecedented.
Felix ignored the commotion off the stage, leaving the podium and slowly pacing back and forth in the open space in front of the crowd.
"Since I am a businessman, let me first use a businessman's way to tell you all a story. A story about how I made my fortune."
Stopping his steps, Felix seemed to fall into a certain memory within his gaze.
"Twelve years ago, I came to New York with my parents to start a new life. But unfortunately, they fell ill and passed away, leaving seventy-five dollars and an eighteen-year-old me. To survive, I rented the basement of a kind old lady. At that time, I read the newspaper and discovered that the Civil War was about to begin, so I started doing the cheapest canned food business right there."
Hearing "basement" and "canned food", Mr. Pasteur, sitting in the front row, leaned forward slightly, surprise flashing in his eyes.
He clearly hadn't expected that this oligarch, who was now wealthier than a nation, actually had such a humble starting point.
Although these stories were spread in New York, these scholars definitely wouldn't pay attention to them.
"At that time, I had no assembly line or steam engine. I only had a hand-cranked pressing sealing machine assembled from old things I bought from the market."
Felix gestured the action of turning a crank, smiled self-deprecatingly on his face, and continued to make up... ahem, tell the story.
"But I quickly encountered a fatal problem. Manually pressed canned food had relatively poor sealing, and the meat inside would spoil within a few days if it didn't undergo special sterilization treatment. Eating it would not only make people vomit, but might even cost people their lives."
As he spoke, he looked toward Pasteur.
"Right when I almost didn't know what to do, I saw an incomplete early paper published by Mr. Pasteur regarding microorganisms causing fermentation and spoilage. Following the principles in the paper, I modified the basement boiler, using high-temperature steam to continuously sterilize the canned food."
The scholars off the stage were captivated by the story and held their breath.
"The result can be seen from me now, it was extremely perfect. The shelf life of my canned food was extended by several months. Afterwards, taking these canned foods, I earned the first pot of gold in my life." Felix spread his hands, joking.
"Later, business got better and orders became more and more numerous. I simply gritted my teeth, bought the Nolan Ironworks, established the initial Argyle Food Company, and introduced the latest mechanical tableting machine. Of course, I must thank Mr. Nolan here for reducing one thousand dollars back then. Even later, as my business grew larger and larger, seeing so many soldiers injured and dying on the battlefield, I invited Dr. Thorne to join the research lab and established a pharmaceutical company, producing medicines that could quickly stop bleeding and reduce inflammation. I only hoped fewer people would die!"
The smile on Felix's face gradually faded.
"From the broken machine in the basement to the factories and railways spanning America today, the Argyle Family has earned wealth that ordinary people cannot imagine. But in this process, I understood a principle."
He looked straight into the eyes of everyone present.
"That is, the roaring of machines and the collision of gold coins are merely the surface appearance of how this world operates. The core gears truly driving this machine forward are not just us capitalists holding checkbooks, but you! It is the formulas you derived in the laboratory, the bacteria you discovered under the microscope, the chemical reactions you summarized after failure after failure!"
"Without your theoretical foundation, my canning factory would have gone bankrupt long ago, and my pharmaceutical company couldn't produce a single pill at all. It is the progress of science that makes human life better, and also lets us businessmen make money."
Those low-level researchers who sneaked in at their own expense, such as Henry and Klaus, were clenching their fists tightly at this moment, their eye sockets heating up.
In these words, they heard an unprecedented sense of recognition.
"However, when I possessed enough wealth and looked back to find those pioneers who provided me with theoretical foundations, what did I see?"
Felix's voice suddenly rose, carrying anger and injustice.
"I saw an absurd world! Those businessmen who took inventions to start factories drank the top-tier champagne and smoked Havana cigars every night. And what about you? Those European scientific researchers who truly discovered the truths of the universe and life-saving medicines can only cower in unheated laboratories, bootlicking and begging government bureaucrats for funds for a few glass test tubes!"
Felix's gaze locked tightly onto the faces of German chemist Mendeleev and physicist Clausius.
"Of course! Businessmen funded you all, and obtaining financial returns is only natural. But this does not mean they should swallow up all achievements and wealth; this is unfair!"
"I also heard that some great scholars even have to rely on pawning their wives' jewelry just to afford the coal used for experiments. Gentlemen, tell me, is this fair?"
The entire banquet hall fell into a death-like silence.
No one answered.
But the corners of many old scholars' eyes were already brimming with tears.
Felix mercilessly ripped open that most unbearable and poignant layer of fig leaf in the European academic world.
"The world shouldn't be like this; this is simply a disgrace to human civilization!"
Felix, whose emotions were fully in place, suddenly half-raised his right hand and decisively gave the answer.
"So I decided to stand up. Since the government's treasury is unwilling to pay for truth, let me, this businessman, pay for it!"
He walked back to the podium, his words fierce, displaying that domineering aura that swept across the world.
"This is the only reason the Argyle Science and Peace Foundation exists!"
"I am taking out five million US dollars to establish the foundation precisely to tell the whole world: those who explore truth should not be impoverished!"
"As pioneers of science and civilization, they deserve the due material return and respect!"
"I will also make it so you no longer have to worry about survival and experimental funds, letting every drop of your painstaking effort exchange for solid dignity!"
The air in the banquet hall seemed to grow scorching hot with Felix's thrilling words.
Although no one applauded, everyone's rapid breathing and flushed faces already explained everything.
Well said!
Mr. Argyle used the most straightforward logic of money to ruthlessly pierce through the noble and aloof defense lines deep within their hearts.
Who wouldn't want to gain respect while living a more superior life with better guarantees?
"I know. All of you must have had a lot of discussions and guesses in private regarding the five awards established by the Argyle Foundation."
Felix picked up the glass of clear water on the podium to moisten his throat, and his tone smoothed out again.
"Physics, Chemistry, Physiology or Medicine. Why these three? As I said just now, I am a businessman. Therefore, I make no secret of my preference for those scientific technologies that can be quickly converted into commercial output."
Felix calmly met the complex gazes from below the stage; after all, this was an indisputable fact.
He was a businessman first and foremost, and he naturally had to consider gains and losses in interests.
This point had been mentioned at the opening, so it did not cause any dissatisfaction.
"If someone can invent a more efficient generator tomorrow, or a catalyst that can significantly increase steel production, I think I would be very happy to award the prize money to him, then buy his patent at ten times the price, and then use it to open a factory and make money. There's nothing to be ashamed of in admitting this."
A low, good-natured laughter sounded from the audience; after all, who wouldn't want that?
This businessman's true nature, frank to the point of being brazen, instead made the scholars feel that he was real and reliable.
"But I am also very clear that science cannot only look at immediate profits."
Felix's tone abruptly shifted, his eyes filled with sincerity and pragmatism.
"I know that many great theories may not see any commercial value at the very moment they are proposed. For example, Mr. Maxwell's electromagnetic field equations, and Mr. Clausius's 'Entropy'. To be honest, they are too far ahead of their time, so far ahead that capital is simply unwilling to invest much money and resources into them."
Hearing his own name, Clausius, sitting in the audience, raised his head, his eyes revealing a hint of surprise and moved emotion.
"Yet these pure academic researches are the true foundation of human civilization."
Felix heavily tapped the podium with his finger.
"Without a foundation, all commercial applications are merely castles in the air. Precisely because this kind of basic research is extremely difficult to obtain commercial returns in a short period of time, they need the support of the Argyle Foundation even more!"
Opening his arms, Felix displayed an inclusive aura.
"As long as your theory can reveal the laws of the universe and point the way for future technology, the Argyle Foundation does not care whether it can be sold for money today. A check for fifty thousand dollars will still be delivered right in front of you!"
Someone in the audience finally could not help it and began to take the lead in applauding.
The applause spread rapidly, sweeping through the entire banquet hall like a tide.
He pressed his hand down, signaling everyone to quiet down.
"In addition to science, we have also established a literature prize. Perhaps someone will ask, what does literature have to do with machines?"
Felix looked at a French representative sitting in the corner, who was the envoy accepting the award on behalf of Victor Hugo.
"Machines solve the problem of human survival, while literature solves the problem of why humans survive. When the roar of machines makes people get lost in the steel forest, it is literary works that record our souls and defend our conscience. Works like 'Les Misérables', their comfort to the human soul is no less than a dose of anti-inflammatory medicine. Those great writers deserve to be remembered forever by the world."
Finally, Felix's gaze crossed the crowd and accurately landed on the Prime Minister of the British Empire, William Gladstone.
Gladstone immediately straightened his body.
"And the last one, the Peace Prize."
Felix's tone became somewhat heavy.
"We use science to create wealth and literature to soothe the soul. But if a war comes, all factories will turn into ruins, and all books will burn in the flames of war. War is the greatest enemy of civilization."
Felix pointed at Gladstone, and the Swiss man sitting beside him who founded the Red Cross, Henry Dunant.
"Whether it is a selfless contributor like Mr. Dunant who saves lives on the battlefield, or a statesman like Prime Minister Gladstone who uses diplomatic wisdom to eliminate the flames of war at the negotiating table, as long as they have made solid contributions to human and world peace, they are equivalent to protecting the sparks of science and civilization. They must receive the respect and reward they deserve."
Felix withdrew his gaze, pressed his hands back on the podium, and made the final conclusion for this speech destined to go down in history.
"Gentlemen. The Argyle Science and Peace Prize is not a short-lived commercial show. It is a solemn promise made by the Argyle Family to all of human civilization."
Every word of Felix's resonated with power, echoing under the wide dome.
"As long as the Argyle Family is still here, as long as there is still one of our factories on the land of America, this award will continue to be held!"
"Not for one, two, or three years."
"But for ten, decades, or hundreds of years!"
He looked at the scientists off stage whose faces were flushed with excitement.
"I want everyone in the world to be filled with awe when mentioning your names. I want all rulers to understand that scientists should not beg for charity, but are the kings of this era! Go research, go explore, go burn your wisdom for the well-being of all mankind! Leave the remaining survival problems to me to solve!"
As his voice fell, Felix bowed slightly.
"Boom!"
The applause, like a long-accumulated volcano, completely erupted at this moment.
Professor Hermann von Helmholtz suddenly stood up and applauded vigorously.
Immediately afterwards, Mendeleev, Pasteur, and all the scholars, assistants, and even the security personnel maintaining order could not help but follow suit and applaud.
This applause was no longer mere politeness, but heartfelt shock and submission.
Felix Argyle, the oligarch who once smelled of copper stench in the eyes of Europeans, had at this moment completely transformed into a great pioneer driving the progress of human civilization in the eyes of all scholars.
He not only gave them money, but more importantly, gave them what was most lacking in this world—dignity.
The thunderous applause lasted for a full five minutes before gradually subsiding.
Felix stood beside the podium, smiling as he looked at the scholars with slightly red eyes off stage.
The echo smashed out by five million dollars seemed to have been able to break the academic barriers of the Old World.
Starting today, the Argyle Family will become the 'Jerusalem' of the global academic community.
"Everyone's applause makes me deeply honored. But tonight, I am just a spectator building the stage."
"You are the real protagonists."
Felix stepped back, yielding the podium.
"Next, according to the foundation's procedure, I would like to invite these twenty-five final shortlisted candidates, or your representatives, to come to the stage one by one to speak. There is no need for lengthy academic reports; just share with us what you most want to say on the path of pursuing truth."
The process entered the most anticipated segment.
The first to step up to the podium was Professor Hermann von Helmholtz, representing the core candidates for the Physics Prize.
This polymath holding a leadership position in Germany's scientific community was clearly a bit emotional at the moment.
He adjusted his bow tie, his gaze sweeping across the audience.
"Mr. Argyle's words just now made me feel ashamed and inspired.
In those days and nights when I proposed the law of conservation of energy, I often asked myself what these cold formulas could possibly bring to the world.
But today, I have found the answer."
Helmholtz's voice was trembling.
"Science should not be locked in Europe's ancient attics to rust.
It must step out to embrace the roaring machines and change the life of every ordinary person.
Thank you, Argyle Foundation; you make the truth no longer lonely."
Warm applause erupted from the audience once again.
Immediately afterward, Dmitry Mendeleev, the candidate for the Chemistry Prize, strode up to the stage.
His thick beard and wild temperament were completely different from traditional European gentleman scholars.
"In my country, many people think my periodic table of elements is a whimsical scam."
Mendeleev said loudly in English with a heavy Russian accent: "They mock the blank spaces I left behind.
But today, in this hall, I have seen something greater than chemical elements—and that is the tolerance for the unknown.
I believe that one day, those blank spaces will be filled.
Regardless of whether I win the award, I will continue to search for the strongest driving force for those unknown elements!"
His speech also won applause; after all, those who knew were well aware that this guy's days were truly difficult.
Then, when Louis Pasteur, the candidate for the Physiology or Medicine Prize, took the stage, the entire audience spontaneously stood up in tribute.
This old man who had saved countless lives had tears in his eyes.
"I have watched with my own eyes countless children die of infection, and farmers go bankrupt due to silkworm diseases.
I proved the existence of microorganisms not to leave a name in books, but to tell the Grim Reaper that humanity will never compromise.
Mr. Argyle is right; scientists should not be impoverished, because we are using our lives to build a defensive wall for all of humanity."
Subsequently, Francis, the son of Charles Darwin, delivered a speech on behalf of his father, recounting the criticism and persistence behind *On the Origin of Species*;
and the French representative read a romantic thank-you letter sent by Victor Hugo.
Each candidate's speech was like a miniature history of human struggle.
The scholars off stage listened with rapt attention, and those young researchers who had sneaked in at their own expense were even more boiling with blood, as if they saw the direction of their future.
When it was time for the Peace Prize candidates to speak, the atmosphere of the entire banquet hall underwent a subtle shift.
William Gladstone, Prime Minister of the British Empire, stepped up to the podium.
His appearance made everyone present hold their breath.
After all, this was the incumbent cabinet head who held the real power of the largest empire in the world at present.
Gladstone rested both hands on the podium, sweeping his deep gaze across the audience.
"Distinguished scholars, Mr. Argyle.
Just now I heard many great speeches about the laws of nature and the mysteries of life.
For this, I feel deeply in awe."
He paused, his tone becoming solemn.
"As a politician, I actually don't know much about how to find bacteria under a microscope, nor do I know how to derive thermodynamic formulas.
My battlefield is in parliament and at the negotiating table."
Gladstone cast his gaze toward Felix, a sharp gleam flashing in his eyes.
"But as Mr. Argyle said, war is civilization's greatest enemy.
If diplomacy and negotiation cannot be used to restrain those greedy artillery pieces and warships, everything you have created in the laboratory will turn to ashes in the gunfire.
I advocate disarmament and oppose unrestrained imperial expansion.
Because I firmly believe that only under the dome of peace can the tree of science bear fruitful harvests."
Gladstone slightly bowed.
"This honor of nomination belongs not only to me personally, but even more to the British Empire's commitment to world peace.
May reason always triumph over barbarism."
Thunderous applause rang out once again, even more enthusiastic than before.
Gladstone's speech perfectly fit the theme of the Peace Prize, further elevating his own political image.
As the last candidate finished speaking, this breathtaking formal segment finally came to a close.
"Gentlemen, enjoy the fine wine and food to your heart's content.
Tonight, there are no national borders here, only the collision of thoughts."
Felix raised his glass and announced the start of free communication time.
The banquet hall immediately became noisy.
Scholars held their wine glasses, gathering in groups of three or five, fiercely discussing the topic just now.
Those young researchers like Henry and Klaus who managed to enter only after signing "indentured servitude" contracts finally found the opportunity, mustered up the courage to walk toward those luminaries they had long admired, and handed over their manuscripts in exchange for a few words of precious guidance.
And at the edge of the crowd, Felix was holding a glass of red wine, quietly watching this group of "prey" he had gathered into his bag.
"Boss, everything is proceeding according to plan.
These scholars are already full of respect for you." Frost walked to Felix's side and reported in a low voice.
"That is enough. As soon as tomorrow's newspapers come out, cracks will appear in the academic dam of all Europe." Felix took a sip of red wine, his gaze searching among the crowd.
Soon he saw the figure walking toward him.
Prime Minister William Gladstone, holding a champagne glass, naturally walked through the crowd to Felix's front.
"Mr. Argyle, your speech was wonderful.
It was simply more inspiring than the best debaters in the House of Commons." Gladstone smiled and raised his glass.
"Your Excellency the Prime Minister flatters me; your philosophy of peace is the sturdiest shield in this hall." Felix responded with mutual commercial praise just the same.
The two lightly clinked glasses and each took a sip.
Gladstone's gaze swept over the noisy crowd around, then he leaned in closer, lowering his voice so that only the two of them could hear.
"Mr. Argyle, the academic atmosphere of the banquet is indeed charming.
However... I wonder if there is time to find a quiet place with me on this charming night and talk alone about some things that are not so 'academic'?"
Gladstone's eyes revealed probing.
"About peace, or... about some tacit understanding between the British Empire and the Argyle Family in the future?"
Felix looked at this powerful Prime Minister of the British Empire, the corners of his mouth holding a meaningful expression.
The main event has arrived.
"Of course, Your Excellency the Prime Minister. The cigar room is very quiet and absolutely confidential."
The Astor Hotel not only had a bustling banquet hall, but at the end of the corridor, it also concealed a private cigar room exclusively for top VIPs.
The walls here were paneled with thick, dark oak, providing excellent soundproofing.
The spacious leather sofas exuded the aroma of aged leather, and the anthracite coal in the fireplace was burning quietly.
Felix pushed open the door, stepping aside to let Prime Minister William Gladstone enter first, then instructed Mark, who was guarding outside the door.
"No one is allowed to approach this door."
"Understood, boss."
Mark immediately stood outside the door like an iron tower.
The heavy wooden door closed, completely cutting off the hustle and bustle outside.
Felix walked over to the liquor cabinet, poured two glasses of neat bourbon whiskey, and handed one to Gladstone, then took two top-grade Havana cigars from the humidor and personally cut and lit them for the Prime Minister.
"Prime Minister, although the bourbon here cannot compare to Scotland's single malt, its advantage lies in its strength. It is very suitable for drinking when discussing important deals."
Felix sat down on the opposite sofa, his legs naturally crossed.
Gladstone took a puff, exhaled a thick cloud of smoke, and narrowed his eyes slightly as he sized up the young man before him.
Before coming to New York, he had outlined Felix's image countless times in his mind.
A greedy upstart, a ruthless financial tycoon, or even a madman hiding behind the scenes manipulating politics.
But tonight's encounter made him realize that the other party not only possessed the coldness of a capitalist, but also possessed an unfathomable strategic composure.
"Mr. Argyle, I think everyone is a straightforward person, so let's dispense with those false words."
Gladstone put down his glass, displaying the oppressive presence of the British Empire's head of state.
"We both tacitly understand the true purpose of you establishing this award—to bring Europe's finest minds to America to work for you. Those stubborn old men at the Royal Society are so angry they want to hang themselves in Whitehall, and Queen Victoria even forced me to create a 'Royal Industry and Science Award' to counter you."
Gladstone looked into Felix's eyes, trying to catch even a trace of panic, but he failed.
Felix's eyes were as calm as water.
"Oh? I can understand Her Majesty's anxiety. As a patriot, your response measures at home were very timely. This hasn't affected our friendship, has it?" Felix replied with a smile.
"Of course it hasn't affected it." Gladstone sneered.
"Because I know that that Royal award simply cannot stop your checkbook and global reach. Since I came to New York, it means I have staked everything in the political high-stakes gamble back home."
Gladstone took a deep breath and threw out his demand.
"I want the inaugural Peace Prize, exclusively."
Although it was a consultative tone, the content was unquestionable.
"I want to return to London with this world-class honor, so as to shut those bastards in Parliament who oppose me as much as possible. To be honest, I want to be re-elected in the next general election with an absolute advantage!"
Felix held his glass, his fingers gently rubbing against the rim of the cup.
"Prime Minister, you are putting me in a difficult position. As I said in my speech just now, the selection for this award is absolutely independent and fair. If the outside world knew that you and I were operating behind closed doors here, the reputation of the Argyle Foundation would be ruined."
"Ha... Don't use those words meant to fool scholars to fob me off, Mr. Argyle." Gladstone unceremoniously exposed the truth.
"I believe the thirty-five judges are indeed independent and fair and have the right to vote. But the Peace Prize is different from other awards; there is simply nothing tangible there."
The list screening and rules are set by you.
"As long as you want someone to win, I believe there are many ways to guide the voting results without leaving a trace. That Swiss man named Dunant is indeed very noble, but he has no state apparatus to back him up. And I can provide you with what you need most."
"Oh? What I need most?"
Raising an eyebrow, Felix seemed interested.
"For instance... the Far East market and smooth passage across the oceans."
Gladstone straightened his body, his gaze flashing with a politician's shrewdness.
"I know that the Metropolitan Trading Company's ships encountered a bit of'small trouble' in the Indian Ocean some time ago, and I also know those petty tricks played by Barings Bank."
Gladstone pointed at Felix.
"If you can ensure I get the Peace Prize, in return, I will, in the name of the Prime Minister, secretly suppress the influence of Barings Bank and Sassoon & Co. in the cabinet. I will also issue a secret order to the Viceroy of India and the Far East Fleet that as long as the Metropolitan Trading Company's ships fly a legal flag, the Royal Navy will never harass or intercept you in any form on the high seas."
This was a tempting condition.
Although Felix currently fooled customs by means of "aristocratic proxy holding", this was dancing on a tightrope after all.
If the British Empire really wanted to mess with him and comprehensively blockade the Argyle Family's shipping routes in the Far East, that would be a devastating blow to the Metropolitan Trading Company.
With the secret protection of the incumbent Prime Minister, the Argyle Family's expansion in Asia would go much smoother.
After a moment of silence, Felix weighed the risks and rewards of this transaction.
Trading a predetermined slot for the Peace Prize for the British Empire's green light on global shipping routes.
This deal was actually cost-effective.
After all, as just said, the Peace Prize really didn't have anything tangible to choose from, and the selection was not as clear-cut as other awards.
"Prime Minister, your conditions are indeed very sincere."
Felix put down his glass and looked at Gladstone.
"But I am a greedy businessman. Merely not intercepting my ships on the high seas is not enough."
Gladstone frowned: "What else do you want?"
"I want the British Empire's railway concessions in South America."
"I heard that Barings Bank controls the construction rights of several core railways in Argentina and Brazil, but as far as I know, their capital chain has had some problems recently. Perhaps your cabinet could pass a resolution allowing America's capital—to be precise, the Argyle Empire Bank—to fully take over these unfinished projects."
This proposal made Gladstone somewhat uneasy.
South America's railway network was the core lifeline for the British Empire to control that continent's resources.
Felix was trying to snatch meat directly from the Britons' dinner plate!
"That's impossible!" Gladstone flatly refused.
"If I cede South America's railways to you, the conservatives in Parliament might immediately impeach me for treason."
"How could that be?"
"Think about it, when you return to London with the honor of the Argyle Peace Prize, you will be the most respected peace messenger in all of Europe. By then, you can use the glorious reason of 'promoting international peace and capital cooperation, jointly developing backward regions' to package this transaction as your political achievement."
"Besides, Barings Bank has some issues over there, right?"
Felix picked up the bottle of bourbon whiskey and filled Gladstone's empty glass.
"And it won't be taken for free. I promise to acquire those unfinished projects at a price 10% higher than the market price. This money will be enough for you to shut the mouths of those conservative politicians in Parliament."
Gladstone stared at the golden-yellow liquor, his brain calculating the gains and losses.
Giving up some interests in South America in exchange for personal absolute political prestige and re-election ballots.
For a politician, the long-term interests of the country often need to make way for immediate power.
Time passed in the smoke of the cigars.
Finally, Gladstone picked up his glass.
"If you can guarantee that the fifty-thousand-dollar check bears my name at the award ceremony and what you promised, the transfer agreement for the South American railways might be secretly passed at next month's cabinet meeting."
Felix's face broke into a smile.
He raised his own glass and clinked it with Gladstone's.
"Then happy cooperation, Prime Minister. Congratulations in advance on soon becoming the winner of the inaugural Argyle Peace Prize."
"May the British Empire, under your leadership, march toward... eternal peace."
Inside the cigar room, two glasses filled with bourbon whiskey gently clinked together, producing a crisp glass sound.
This was far more than a simple toast; it was a covert transaction transcending national interests between the current Prime Minister of the British Empire and an American capital oligarch.
William Gladstone drained the golden liquor in his cup in one go, feeling the spicy warmth burn all the way down his throat into his stomach.
He placed the empty glass on the coffee table, the calculation unique to politicians gradually fading from his face, replaced by the relaxation of an old-school gentleman after a deal was struck.
"Mr. Argyle, now that the deal has been struck, as a cooperative partner, I suppose I should provide you with a little complimentary bonus."
Gladstone leaned back against the leather sofa, his fingers holding a cigar lightly tapping the tabletop.
Felix likewise put down his glass and looked at the other party.
"I will listen carefully, Your Excellency the Prime Minister. A bonus from you usually holds great value."
"Ahem... Regarding the railway concessions in South America, after I return to London, I will secretly promote the transfer bill in the cabinet. I will clear away the obstacles at the government level for you." Gladstone lowered his voice, his tone turning solemn.
"However, what you are about to take over are the core railway networks of Argentina and Brazil. What you truly need to guard against are not the politicians in London, but Barings Bank."
Hearing this name, Felix's eyes narrowed slightly, though he did not interrupt, signaling the other party to continue.
"You must know that the influence of Barings Bank in South America is far more terrifying than what you see on paper." Gladstone exhaled a puff of blue smoke.
"They are not merely a bank that issues national bonds. On that continent, they also secretly support a large number of mercenaries, buying off local warlords and port officials. Even certain cabinet ministers in Argentina secured their positions thanks to the black gold of Barings Bank."
Deep apprehension flickered in the Prime Minister's eyes.
"Back when the British Empire was expanding its influence in South America, Barings Bank was the Vanguard. For you to go and take over those unfinished projects now is tantamount to cutting flesh from them. That old fox Charles Sterling will never obediently surrender his territory just because of a transfer order from the London government. They will engage in covert sabotage, incite strikes, and even directly blow up your road-building machinery. On the wilderness of Buenos Aires, London's laws are merely a piece of scrap paper."
"Thank you for your advice, Your Excellency the Prime Minister."
Pressing the remaining half of his cigar into the ashtray, a smile curved at the corners of Felix's mouth.
"However, when it comes to the rules of the wilderness, America seems to have a bit more experience. If Barings Bank is willing to sit at the negotiating table and clearly settle the engineering handover, I will pay them the full amount of pounds as agreed. But if they want to play those shady tricks in the jungles of South America..."
Felix leaned back slightly, and the trace of bloodlust suppressed beneath his suit instantly unleashed.
"I will send people to take over the construction sites. The Gatling Gun of Vanguard Military Industry can reason not only on the docks of San Francisco, but on the Pampas grasslands of Argentina, it remains the most persuasive speaker. As long as they are not afraid of perishing inside, I welcome them to test my bottom line at any time."
Looking at the young creator of a financial conglomerate before him, Gladstone felt a genuine chill. He suddenly felt that Barings Bank might have provoked a monster they simply should not have crossed this time.
"Since you are prepared, I will not say anything more. I hope our handover in South America goes smoothly." Gladstone stood up.
"It will certainly go smoothly. Let us go, Your Excellency the Prime Minister; we have stayed in the cigar room far too long, and those scholars outside are probably already communicating quite smoothly."
Felix also stood up and picked up the coat draped over the sofa armrest.
Mark pushed open the oak door, and the warm, bustling atmosphere of the banquet hall instantly washed over them.
Felix and Gladstone walked back into the hall.
The atmosphere here had reached an absolute peak.
Following Felix's earth-shaking speech just moments ago, there were no longer any barriers of nationality and discipline throughout the entire banquet hall.
In a corner, the French chemical genius Henry was excitedly showing Professor Justus von Liebig the aniline dye extraction formula he had drawn on a napkin.
This father of organic chemistry was not arrogant because of Henry's youth; instead, he extremely earnestly pointed out several fatal errors in the reaction conditions, leaving Henry's eyes flushed with excitement.
On the other side, Dmitry Mendeleev was fiercely debating with Hermann von Helmholtz about the energy release possibilities of the periodic law of elements at the physical level.
These two masters belonging to different fields continuously sparked new inspiration amidst their collisions.
Felix walked to the center of the hall, picked up a glass of champagne, and gently tapped the rim of the glass with a small silver spoon.
"Ding, ding, ding..."
The crisp sound quickly quieted down the banquet hall.
All the scholars, judges, and accompanying personnel stopped their conversations, turning to look at this absolute ruler of tonight.
"Gentlemen, tonight's exchanges are intoxicating. I have seen humanity's brightest minds collide here without reservation." Felix smiled, his voice loud and clear.
"This is a night destined to be recorded in history. To remember this great moment, I propose that everyone take a group photo together."
"A group photo?"
The crowd below emitted excited murmurs.
Although photography technology had already appeared, it remained an expensive and cumbersome technology.
Being able to conduct large-scale indoor photography at a banquet was definitely a rare occurrence.
"Yes, a group photo."
Felix pointed toward the rear of the banquet hall.
Several employees from the News Media Company had already carried in heavy wooden large-format cameras, and hotel staff were also carrying in wooden ladders.
The photographers were also top-notch experts within the News Media Company.
They nimbly set up tripods and arranged flash troughs filled with magnesium powder on both sides of the camera.
"Once the photos are developed, I will have them printed on the finest photographic paper and mail a copy to every gentleman present," Felix announced loudly.
"This will be the best testimony of our bidding farewell to the old era and marching toward a new scientific epoch."
Warm applause erupted from the crowd.
Although scholars were aloof, they also heavily valued the honor of leaving behind images in history.
Guided by security personnel, over a hundred people began to form lines in the open space at the front of the banquet hall.
Such seating or standing arrangements should have been an extremely headache-inducing matter, but tonight, everything appeared so natural.
The thirty-five international judges consciously stood in the back row, while the young scholars and attendants squeezed into the sides and further back positions.
As for the center of the first row, which was the most core C-position, it was indisputably left to Felix, this scientific pioneer and major financial backer.
Felix walked to the center with a smile and stood still.
To his left was the world's most powerful politician at present, British Prime Minister William Gladstone; to his right was the titan of the physics world, Hermann von Helmholtz.
Twenty-five core candidates, including Mendeleev and Pasteur, lined up around Felix in turn.
This was a terrifying lineup.
Capital, power, and science achieved the most perfect blend at this moment.
The photographer crawled under the black curtain and adjusted the focal length.
"Gentlemen, please look at the lens! Keep quiet!"
The photographer shouted loudly.
Everyone straightened their backs, put away their smiles, and assumed a solemn and respectful expression.
"Three, two, one!"
The photographer suddenly pulled the lead wire of the flash trough.
"Boom!"
A muffled sound rang out.
A large amount of magnesium powder was ignited instantly, and a blinding white light resembling a miniature sun erupted violently inside the banquet hall.
Dense white smoke quickly rose and filled the air.
In that 0.1 second when the magnesium flash blinked.
Felix's cold, confident face that exuded control over everything, along with the surrounding faces representing humanity's highest wisdom and power, were permanently frozen on the silver bromide-coated photosensitive glass negative.
After the big group photo, Felix did not let the photographer pack up.
"Next, please let the twenty-five final candidates stay. We will take a separate photo."
Felix commanded methodically.
Soon, the bystanders dispersed.
Felix stood together with these twenty-five masters destined to go down in history, and the flash burst again.
Afterwards, he invited the thirty-five international judges to complete a third group photo with himself.
Every flash of the magnesium light hammered the surname "Argyle" firmly into the cornerstone of human civilization.
When the blinding white light finally dissipated completely, the banquet hall was filled with the pungent smell of gunpowder smoke.
But this did not dilute everyone's enthusiasm.
Felix picked up a new glass of champagne and raised it into mid-air.
"Gentlemen, the negative has recorded tonight's glory. And tomorrow, this glory will spread across the world with the ink of newspapers. To science! To the future!"
"To science! To Mr. Argyle!"
Over a hundred voices converged into a torrent, echoing through the top floor of the Astor Hotel.
The next morning.
When the heavy fog over New York was just blown away by the breeze from the Hudson River, and the first ray of sunlight hit the glass curtain wall of the Empire Bank Building, the entire city had been completely submerged in the smell of printing ink.
The News Media Company mobilized all rotary printing presses and stayed up all night.
Hundreds of thousands of copies of the New York Tribune, The Sun, and various local newspapers rushed to the streets like snowflakes.
Newsboys didn't even need to run and hawk on the streets; as long as they stood at street corners holding a thick stack of newspapers, they would immediately be surrounded tightly by crowds scrambling to buy them.
"Long Island shipbuilders are fighting tooth and nail just to take a look! The full text of Mr. Argyle's speech last night!"
"A world-shaking group photo! The Prime Minister of the British Empire and all the gods of Europe are standing beside us Americans!"
In a cheap cafe in Lower Manhattan, several steel mill workers who had just finished the night shift gathered around a table, staring intently at the newspaper spread flat on the table.
On the front page of the newspaper, using advanced photo-engraving technology, the big group photo taken at the Astor Hotel last night was clearly printed on the paper.
Although limited by the printing technology of the era, the black-and-white picture carried a strong sense of graininess, but the solemn sense of readiness of those more than a hundred people, especially Felix sitting right in the middle and surrounded like an emperor, still brought an indescribable visual impact to people.
"Good God, look at this turnout."
An Irish worker covered in coal ash pointed at the photo on the newspaper with rough fingers, his voice filled with strong national pride.
"My cousin is a guard at the dock. He said that all those old men who got off the ship yesterday are national treasures of various European countries! That bearded Russian and that French doctor. Usually, those Europeans look at us like uncultured hicks, but how is it now? Their prime minister and smartest brains still have to obediently run over to our New York to listen to Boss Argyle speak!"
Another worker held the lower half of the newspaper, which was the full text of Felix's speech last night entitled "Confessions of a Businessman and the Price of Truth".
"Listen to what the boss said. 'Those who explore the truth should not be impoverished! I want every drop of your hard work to exchange for tangible dignity!'" The worker slammed the table excitedly.
"The boss is so right! Without these inventors, how could our steel mill's new blast furnace be built? How could our wages go up now? Those politicians in Washington only know how to collect taxes all day long; only our Boss Argyle is the one who truly knows how to let everyone live a good life!"
This simple and fanatical emotion spread wildly like wildfire among America's lower classes and middle class.
If before, the Argyle Family was merely seen by ordinary people as a capital giant providing employment and goods.
Then today, through this photograph and this speech, Felix successfully molded himself into a beacon pushing forward the progress of human civilization.
Not only did he stun European scholars with dollars, but he also reaped the hearts of all America with a posture close to a "scientific savior".
Meanwhile, in Washington D.C., inside the temporary office of The White House.
Acting President Thomas Clark was sitting behind his desk, looking at the New York newspaper just delivered via express train in his hand. His chief of staff stood aside, even breathing cautiously.
"He did it."
Thomas put down the newspaper, let out a long breath, his eyes holding both dread for this cheap son-in-law and profound relief.
"Putting the British Prime Minister and those world-changing scientists in the same photo, and then standing right in the center himself. This is no longer ordinary commercial momentum-building. This is declaring to the whole world that America is the future center of civilization."
Thomas got up and walked to the window, looking at the crowds outside who were already gathering to protest.
Those people held banners in their hands, shouting Argyle's name and demanding that Congress increase investment in science education.
"With the blessing of this reputation, who in the Republican Party would dare to jump out and challenge me at this time?"
Thomas turned around and gave an order to his chief of staff.
"Immediately issue a statement in the name of The White House, highly praising the Argyle Science and Peace Foundation for its contribution to humanity. And announce that the Federal Government will significantly increase research budgets for public universities next year. We must use the wind whipped up by Felix to nail down the general election completely."
With the roaring of trains and the ticking of telegraphs, this carnival rapidly crossed national borders.
The cruise ships of the Metropolitan Trading Company carried bundles of newspapers and printed high-definition photos, sailing towards South America at top speed.
In Buenos Aires, Argentina, and Rio de Janeiro, Brazil.
When the local warlords and compradors saw this photo, the balance in their hearts slowly tilted.
"That fellow named Felix Argyle could even invite the British Prime Minister to a banquet in New York. No matter how powerful Barings Bank's influence in London is, can it be greater than the Prime Minister?"
An Argentine cabinet minister threw the newspaper on his desk and said to his confidant.
"Immediately send someone to contact the representative of the Argyle Empire Bank in South America. Regarding the transfer of those core railways from before, we might need to rethink our stance."
And when this batch of newspapers and photos was placed on the desks of European royal families and scientific institutions, the Old Continent fell into unprecedented silence.
In the cafes of Paris, no one mocked America as a cultural desert anymore.
Inside the Royal Society in London, those conservative academicians who had previously clamored for a boycott looked at the brilliant smile of Prime Minister William Gladstone in the photo, each of them looking as pale as death.
This photo was just like a verdict.
It proved a cruel fact to the whole of Europe.
That was that the supreme right to speak on capital and science had irreversibly crossed the Atlantic Ocean.
Felix's image began to be deified in this global public opinion storm.
He was no longer a pure businessman, but became a bridge connecting the old era and the new epoch.
However, at a time when the whole world was frantically discussing him and singing praises for him.
This man who single-handedly orchestrated everything did not indulge in the media's flattery.
He quietly left the hustle and bustle of Manhattan, took a carriage, and returned to that quiet wooden villa area in the uptown district.
The carnival of the banquet was just an appearance; the real hard battle was still in the hands of the judges who held the voting rights.
Felix knew that the final destination of those five awards was the cornerstone of whether this grand play could come to a perfect close.
Therefore, he had to go and confirm personally whether this stage he built with his own hands could drop its curtain according to the envisioned script.
Inside the wooden villa area, the early summer sunlight pierced through the tree canopy, casting mottled light and shadows on the lawn.
The outside world had turned upside down because of the group photo in the newspaper, but this area isolated by strict security remained peaceful.
Inside the reading room of Villa Number 7, thirty-five international judges were once again seated around the huge oak conference table.
This was their final plenary meeting before the award ceremony.
On the desktop, there were five golden-stamped envelopes printed with the Argyle Family emblem.
Inside them would be the final list of winners to be announced at the award ceremony.
The envelopes for the four awards of physics, chemistry, medicine, and literature had been sealed with sealing wax and lay quietly on one side of the table.
As for the envelope representing the "Peace Prize", its mouth remained open, placed lonely in the exact center of the conference table.
The air was filled with thick cigar smoke, and the atmosphere appeared somewhat tense and deadlocked.
Felix walked in, accompanied by Frost.
His arrival caused the scholars who had been whispering in argument to stop talking immediately.
After the dinner and that soul-stirring speech, these old-school scholars' attitude toward Felix had changed from initial defense to a conviction mixed with awe.
"Good morning, Gentlemen."
Felix did not walk towards the main seat, but casually pulled open a chair near the door and sat down.
He glanced at the open-mouthed envelope on the table, the corners of his mouth rising slightly.
"It seems that everyone still has differences regarding the ownership of the final fifty thousand dollars. If I guess correctly, you are hesitating between Mr. Henry Dunant and Prime Minister William Gladstone, right?"
The chairman of the judging committee, Professor Hermann Hendrickson, sighed and stood up.
"Mr. Argyle, your insight is still as sharp as ever."
The old professor picked up the candidate list for the Peace Prize.
"We just conducted two rounds of trial voting. The vote counts of Mr. Dunant and Prime Minister Gladstone are biting each other tightly, and neither can obtain an absolute majority of more than half."
The sociological representative from France was somewhat emotionally excited.
"Mr. Argyle. Dunant founded the Red Cross, and he saved the lives of countless wounded soldiers on the battlefield! He brought the radiance of humanitarianism to the most cruel places. This is true peace! And what about Gladstone? He is just a politician! The disarmament and diplomatic reconciliation he advocates are ultimately for the global interests of the British Empire. Awarding the Peace Prize to a current cabinet prime minister will make our award tinged with a heavy political color!"
These words represented the inner thoughts of quite a portion of the pure scholars present.
In their bones, they rejected the intervention of politics and hoped to keep this award at an absolute moral high ground.
Felix patiently listened to the French representative's accusation; he was not angry, nor was he in a hurry to refute.
He took out a cigar from his pocket and played with it slowly in his hand.
"Gentlemen, I deeply understand your pursuit of moral purity. The laws of physics are absolute, and chemical reactions are objective. In these fields, we only value truth."
Felix paused for a moment, his gaze profound.
"However, peace is not truth. Peace is a kind of influence."
He stood up and walked to the conference table, resting his hands on the tabletop and looking down at everyone present.
"Mr. Dunant's Red Cross is indeed noble. But please answer me an extremely realistic question: When the armies of two countries are killing each other with red eyes on the battlefield, and when the barrels of the cannons are already scalding hot. Who is it that can order those soldiers to stop shooting and allow the Red Cross rescue team to safely enter the position?"
The meeting room quieted down.
"Is it Mr. Dunant? No. He only has bandages and morphine, he has no power."
"The ones who can truly make the cannons cease fire are those politicians sitting in front of the negotiating table, holding the state apparatus and the right to mobilize troops in their hands! They are people like Prime Minister Gladstone!"
Felix's gaze swept across those judges who had fallen into deep thought.
"You think awarding the prize to the prime minister is tarnishing the award? Quite the contrary! This is the fatal blow that can truly make this award instantly a world-class authority!"
He walked up to the French representative and tapped heavily on the tabletop with his finger.
"Everyone must not forget what kind of hostility we are facing in Europe. Queen Victoria established the Royal Prize, and Bismarck established the National Prize. They are all waiting to watch our jokes and waiting to find excuses to ban us. But what if we award the first Peace Prize to the current prime minister of the British Empire!"
Felix turned sharply and spread his arms, displaying the shrewdness of a capitalist.
"Do you know what this means politically? It means that the head of government of the British Empire personally accepted the olive branch we handed over. He not only used the identity of the prime minister to conduct top-level national endorsement for this award. More importantly, from the moment he received the award, any government in Europe would no longer have any reason or excuse to boycott or obstruct scholars from participating in the selection of the 'Argyle Science and Peace Prize'!"
"Because boycotting this award is equivalent to boycotting the honor of the prime minister of the British Empire!"
These words exploded in the meeting room like a thunderclap.
Although these scholars were aloof from worldly affairs, they were not foolish.
They instantly understood the political logic behind Felix's words.
Giving it to Dunant, the award would only reap nobility; but giving it to Gladstone, the award would completely kidnap the British Empire, running amok on the international stage from then on.
At least while Gladstone was in office, it was like this.
After Your Excellency the Prime Minister stepped down, through a few years of operation, this award would long have been the top one in people's hearts.
Moreover, as Felix said, Gladstone withstood tremendous domestic pressure during this sensitive period and ran personally to New York to attend the dinner despite the opposition of the Royal Society.
This posture itself had already given plenty of face to the Argyle Foundation.
If he were allowed to return empty-handed, then this would not only be slapping the British Prime Minister in the face, but even more, setting up a mortal enemy with the world's strongest navy for oneself.
Professor Hendrickson looked at his colleagues around him; the French representative who had violently opposed just now was also silent at this moment.
Reality is always more persuasive than ideals.
"Mr. Argyle, your words are always full of... a realism that people cannot refuse."
Professor Hendrickson gave a bitter smile.
He picked up the fountain pen on the table.
"Since the essence of the Peace Prize is influence, Prime Minister Gladstone is indeed currently the choice that can bring the greatest influence to this foundation. I think everyone has reached a consensus."
The old professor wrote down that name on the ballot and handed it to the scholar next to him.
A few minutes later, it passed unanimously.
Frost stepped forward, put the final confirmation slip with the name "William Gladstone" into the envelope, then lit the red wax and tightly sealed it with the foundation's metal seal.
The five awards were finally completely settled.
Felix looked at the five sealing wax envelopes placed side by side on the table and nodded with satisfaction.
"Thank you very much for everyone's hard work. These five letters will determine the direction of the world for the next hundred years."
"Then I will not disturb everyone's rest; see you tomorrow night in the university auditorium."
Just as Felix turned around to leave the meeting room.
Professor Hendrickson suddenly called out to him.
"Mr. Argyle, please wait a moment."
Stopping his steps, Felix turned his head back.
The atmosphere in the conference room became somewhat subtle because of Professor Hendrikson speaking up suddenly.
The other thirty-odd judges also stood up, shifting their gazes back and forth between the old professor and Felix.
Because they more or less seemed to know what this Mr. Chairman wanted to say.
Because after the previous discussion about the Peace Prize, which was full of political calculations and realistic compromises, these scholars inevitably harbored a trace of doubt deep down.
Whether Mr. Argyle would intervene in the other awards was very important.
Professor Hendrikson walked up to Felix and weighed his words.
"Mr. Argyle. Regarding the resolution on the Peace Prize just now, we completely agree with your strategic vision. Transforming political influence into the foundation's moat is indeed an extremely brilliant tactic. But..."
The old professor pointed to the other four wax-sealed envelopes on the table, his tone becoming unprecedentedly solemn.
"The Peace Prize is not rigorous science. Yet what is contained within these four envelopes represents the highest crystallization of humanity exploring the truths of nature. We note that among the final candidate lists, the technologies of certain scholars—such as Maxwell's electromagnetic theory or certain chemical formulas—appear to have extremely close commercial ties with General Electric and the pharmaceutical company under the Argyle Family."
Hendrikson looked straight into Felix's eyes.
"As the helmsman of this massive empire and the financial backer providing this huge prize money, could you really... have no specific inclinations or instructions regarding the final winners of these four awards? If you have any needs, while the envelopes haven't been finally announced yet, we perhaps can..."
The old professor didn't spell it out completely, but the probing intent in his words was already very obvious.
He was probing the bottom line.
If what Felix displayed regarding the Peace Prize just now was the ruthless calculation of a politician, then now, the old professor wanted to know whether this financial backer also intended to reach his hand into the ivory tower of pure science, using the will of capital to forcibly dictate the victors of physics or chemistry.
If this were truly done, then although these scholars would compromise under the pressure of money and power, deep down in their hearts they would forever look down upon this award named "Science".
Nor would they agree to review invitations next year.
Hearing the old professor's probe, Felix did not get angry.
On the contrary.
He let out a hearty laugh.
"Hahahaha..."
This laughter sounded exceptionally clear in the oppressive conference room, leaving all the judges stunned.
"Professor Hendrikson, and Gentlemen present. You seem to have imagined me as too short-sighted."
Felix walked to the table, picked up the envelope containing the list for the Physics Prize, weighed it in his hand, and then casually tossed it back onto the desktop.
"I did say earlier that the Peace Prize is a political deal, because politics itself is piled up from compromises and chips. But! Science is different."
Felix's voice suddenly deepened.
"I am a businessman, a capitalist controlling massive heavy industries, electrical, and pharmaceutical sectors. I am clearer than anyone among you that capital can buy politicians, can buy the front page of newspapers, and can even buy a country's shipping routes. However, capital does not necessarily buy truth!"
He walked up to Hendrikson, his tone becoming extremely solemn.
"If I were to use my power to interfere with your voting and modify the names inside these four envelopes just to let my affiliated factories pay a little less in patent fees, or to popularize some engineer closely related to me, do you know what this means?"
Felix gave a self-deprecating smile.
"This means I personally blindfolded my own eyes! This means that the super radar built with five million dollars that I used to screen the world's top technologies was destroyed by myself with a bunch of garbage data!"
"What I want is the future, hardcore technology that can absolutely withstand the test of time! If the person selected is a fraud, then General Electric taking his erroneous blueprints to build a power station will only blow all of New York up to the sky. If you vote against your conscience to cater to my business empire, then the fake medicine produced by Umbrella Pharmaceutical Company will destroy the reputation of the Argyle Family!"
Felix's words were like a resounding bell, deafening all the scholars present.
They understood.
The man before them was not refraining from interfering with scientific awards out of some noble moral cleanliness.
It was precisely because of his desire and rationality for capital appreciation that he had to maintain the absolute purity of these four awards!
Because only absolute objective truth could transform into an absolutely unshakable commercial monopoly!
This respect for science derived from purely self-interested considerations made these scientists feel much more at ease and grounded than those hypocritical sponsorships full of high-sounding morals.
"So, professors..."
Felix turned around and walked toward the direction of the door.
"Who is inside these four envelopes I do not know, nor do I want to know in advance. I have completely handed over the power to your professionalism and conscience. In this courtyard, you are the judges."
Felix stopped at the doorway, turned his head slightly, and left his final declaration.
"Lock the door well. Until the envelopes of tomorrow night's award ceremony are opened in public, only God and you know these four names."
The heavy oak door closed behind Felix.
Inside the reading room, Professor Hendrikson let out a long breath of foul air, took off his glasses to wipe the corners of his eyes, and then looked at his surrounding colleagues.
Dr. Vogel from Germany, Professor Rossi from Italy, and all the scholars who had harbored doubts just moments ago now had only pure admiration and relief left in their eyes.
"Gentlemen."
Professor Hendrikson put his glasses back on, his gaze falling on the four wax-sealed envelopes.
"Mr. Argyle has defended our dignity with his bottom line. It seems we have neither failed him nor failed science."
"Yes, Mr. Chairman. This list can definitely withstand the test of any era." Dr. Vogel nodded solemnly.
The night grew deeper.
The streets of New York were still bustling, with countless eyes staring at this wooden villa located in the uptown area.
Everyone was guessing and betting on who the ultimate wealth of fifty thousand dollars and the award-winning reputation would eventually fall to.
And inside the newly completed magnificent auditorium of Argyle University, thousands of flowers were being arranged, and the huge crystal chandeliers had been wiped impeccably clean.
The red carpet stretched from the university gates all the way to the innermost part of the auditorium.
Everything was ready.
Tomorrow night.
When the setting sun fell and the stars rose.
These five wax-sealed envelopes carrying humanity's highest wisdom and power would be slowly opened under the gaze of the whole world.