The morning sunlight had just pierced through the thin mist.
Inside Manhattan's Grand Central Station, it was already bustling with voices.
Those self-funded scholars, young university lecturers, and enthusiastic science lovers who failed to get invitations to the Astor Hotel banquet were crowding on the platform, queuing up to board the free special train specially approved by the Argyle Family.
The young French chemist Henry and his German companion Klaus were also on this train.
A few days ago, by signing the reserve researcher contract of Argyle University, they successfully entered that star-studded banquet.
And today, they would head to Upstate New York with others to witness this unprecedented award ceremony with their own eyes.
"Have you heard? The venue of the ceremony has been temporarily changed." Sitting on the velvet seat and looking at the rapidly receding scenery of the Hudson River Valley outside the window, Klaus lowered his voice and said to Henry.
"It was originally scheduled at Argyle Castle in Long Island, or the grand theater in Manhattan. But Mr. Argyle suddenly announced a few days ago that the ceremony will be held in the newly completed grand auditorium of Argyle University."
Henry pushed the glasses on the bridge of his nose, and a trace of comprehension flashed in his eyes.
"Mr. Argyle is not only a financial tycoon, but also an extremely shrewd psychologist. Dragging the smartest minds in the world, as well as political figures and diplomats from various countries, all into his university. This is equivalent to making a top-level display of strength to the world."
Henry pointed to the distant mountains and forests outside the train window.
"When we arrive there, seeing those laboratories more advanced than those in Europe, seeing those magnificent Gothic teaching buildings. The balance in the hearts of those top scholars who were still hesitating whether to stay and teach will definitely tilt completely. This is laying out strength."
Just as this group of scholars was heatedly discussing on the train.
Argyle University, located in the valley plain of Upstate New York, had entered the highest level of alert at this moment.
Large numbers of private security personnel wearing dark windbreakers led hounds and patrolled the outer perimeter of the vast campus.
In front of the Gothic-style red brick main building, the fountain was spraying joyfully. On both sides of the wide gravel avenue, colorful flags fluttering in the wind were planted everywhere.
Inside the backstage lounge of the grand auditorium.
Felix stood in front of the huge full-length mirror.
Today he was wearing a dark black tailcoat hand-sewn by a top tailor, without wearing any redundant pocket watch chain or exaggerated jewelry, making the whole person look restrained yet full of oppression.
Walter Higgins, a member of the board of directors, stood behind Felix, holding a thick guest list in his hand, his brows slightly furrowed, seemingly a bit worried.
"Boss, all the candidates, jury members, and officials from the Washington Department of Education have finished entering. The diplomatic envoys of the British Empire, the German Empire, and the French Republic are also sitting in the front row."
Higgins paused, but finally couldn't help speaking.
"Moving the award ceremony from the private estate of Long Island to the university auditorium can indeed boost the popularity of Argyle University at the fastest speed and show our hardware strength to those scholars. But..."
"You are worried about external public opinion?"
Felix looked at Higgins' eyes through the mirror, his tone calm.
"Yes, boss." Higgins was a bit nervous.
"Although this approach is efficient, the flaws are also obvious to the outside world. If those European newspapers want to make trouble, they will definitely publicize that we are engaging in backroom deals. They will say that the Argyle Foundation uses the prize money as a threat, and if someone does not agree to stay and teach at the university, they will not be awarded. Such speculation that forcibly binds academic honors and recruitment may damage the long-term neutral reputation of the award."
Felix turned around, picked up clear water from the side table and took a sip.
"Walter, your worry is very reasonable, but this is just the barking of those weak and envious people when they can't reach the grapes."
Felix put down the water cup, his eyes revealing a rationality that pierced through the times.
"What the outside world thinks is a question that historians only need to struggle with after I die, or a hundred years later. The current Argyle University is an empty city with a top-notch shell but lacking a soul. What we need most right now is not some absolute neutral reputation, but solid teaching staff! It is those brains who can stand on the podium and teach calculus and thermodynamics!"
He walked to the door of the lounge, listening to the noise of nearly a thousand people coming from the grand auditorium outside the door.
"When our laboratories are crowded with No... crowded with recipients of the Argyle Prize, when all scientific research results in the world must come here for verification, no matter how fiercely those European newspapers curse, their students will still squeeze their heads to apply to us. Strength is the ultimate answer to quell all controversies."
After hearing this, Higgins bowed deeply.
"I understand, boss. You are looking at the future."
"It's almost time." Felix tidied his cuffs.
"Go tell Frost, have the jury chairman prepare to take the stage. Let the whole world hear how big an echo these five million dollars have smashed out."
Inside the grand auditorium at this moment, there was not a single vacant seat.
This magnificent building, which could accommodate nearly a thousand people, adopted an extremely advanced acoustic dome design.
Sunlight poured down through the huge stained glass windows on both sides, illuminating rows of seats made of top-quality mahogany.
Sitting in the front row was Prime Minister William Gladstone, as well as diplomatic envoys of various countries stationed in America.
Their expressions varied, some with scrutiny, some with shock, but all maintained concentration without exception.
Behind them were twenty-four final candidates.
British physicist James Prescott Joule, who was bedridden due to physical reasons and unable to make the trip, was now sitting in a specially made wheelchair.
In order to allow this great pioneer to personally stand on this deifying stage, Felix used resources.
Not only did he charter a luxury cabin on an entire floor of a cruise ship, converting it into a mobile ward, but he also hired six of New York's top surgeons and nurses to accompany him the whole way, forcefully escorting this weak master safely from across the Atlantic Ocean to here.
Although Joule's face was pale, an unprecedented light burned in those eyes.
He looked at the peers around him whose names he had only seen in academic journals, feeling the warm atmosphere in this auditorium gathered purely for science, and his withered hands trembled slightly.
"Ding—"
On the podium in front of the auditorium, a crisp chime came.
After this chime, the originally noisy thousand-person venue instantly became as silent as if it had been cast with a magic spell.
Everyone's eyes were focused on the elderly man who slowly walked onto the podium.
The leading figure of the European physics community, a senior fellow of the Royal Society, and also the chairman of the jury for the inaugural Argyle Science and Peace Prize—Professor Hermann Hendrickson.
He stood in front of the podium, facing the faces off the stage that were enough to represent the highest wisdom of nineteenth-century humanity, and secretly took a deep breath in his heart.
This coronation ceremony, destined to be recorded in the history books of human civilization, officially opened its curtain.
Professor Hendrikson stood in front of the podium.
On the wooden surface of the podium, an early carbon microphone prototype urgently produced by the General Electric laboratory was installed, connected to several large loudspeakers hidden in the corners of the dome.
"Distinguished scholars who have traveled from afar, esteemed guests."
When Professor Hendrikson's voice, amplified by this sound equipment with a slight static hum, clearly and loudly spread throughout the thousand-seat auditorium, a slight gasp of surprise inevitably arose from the audience below.
This extremely intuitive technological display was more persuasive than any flowery rhetoric.
"Before officially announcing the recipients of the honors, as the chairman of the jury, I must express my deepest respect to Mr. Felix Argyle on behalf of thirty-five colleagues."
The old professor's tone was extremely solemn.
"In the long years of the past, scientific exploration has often been accompanied by poverty, misunderstanding, and even persecution by the church. It is Mr. Argyle who, with his unparalleled generosity and awe of truth, has built this indestructible fortress for human wisdom. The five-million-dollar fund is not merely money; it is the highest coronation for every explorer who lights a torch in the dark night."
Thunderous applause erupted from the audience.
The foreign ministers sitting in the front row also had to join in the applause, even though their hearts were filled with dread toward the ambitions of this plutocrat from America.
After the applause subsided, Professor Hendrikson opened the thick document in front of him.
"Now, on behalf of the jury, I will announce the final recipient of the physics prize in the inaugural Argyle Science and Peace Prize. But before that, please allow me to read to you the five core candidates shortlisted for this award, as well as their great contributions sufficient to change our understanding of the universe."
The air inside the auditorium seemed to freeze.
All the physicists held their breath, staring intently at the old professor on the stage.
"Then starting with the first candidate, Mr. James Prescott Joule from Britain."
Professor Hendrikson's gaze turned to Joule, who was sitting in a wheelchair, and he bowed slightly in respect.
"For decades, Mr. Joule conducted countless extremely tedious and precise experiments in the basement of a humble brewery."
The most crucial thing is that his irrefutable data measured the mechanical equivalent of heat, laying the most solid experimental foundation for the law of conservation of energy. And it tells us that heat and mechanical work can be converted into each other, and the energy of the universe will neither be created out of nothing nor disappear out of thin air!
After finishing describing Joule's achievements and contributions, Chairman Hendrikson shifted his gaze to another person.
"And the second candidate is Mr. Hermann von Helmholtz from Germany."
Professor Helmholtz, sitting in the audience, straightened his back upon hearing his name.
"In 1847, Mr. Helmholtz published 'On the Conservation of Force', which shook the scientific community. To be honest, I was extremely shocked at the time, because he not only systematically and completely established the theoretical framework for the conservation of energy, but also spanned this theory across multiple fields such as physics and physiology. Many people on the jury believe that Mr. Helmholtz is a well-deserved scientific polymath of our era."
Feeling a bit dry in his mouth, Hendrikson took a sip of water and turned his gaze to the next candidate.
"Third, William Thomson from Britain, who is our respected lord Kelvin. As everyone knows, he founded the absolute temperature scale of thermodynamics and proposed the Kelvin formulation of the second law of thermodynamics. He is not only a giant of theory, but also an engineering pioneer in laying the Atlantic Ocean submarine cable."
"And of course, the fourth, Mr. Rudolf Clausius from Germany. He perfected the second law of thermodynamics and creatively introduced the concept of 'entropy'. He makes us understand that although the energy of the universe is conserved, its availability is constantly being lost, pointing out the irreversible physical direction of time."
"To be honest, this concept really makes me feel that I am getting old, as if I can hardly keep up with the creativity of the new era. And the next one..."
Professor Hendrikson stopped reading here.
The entire venue was so quiet that even a pin dropping on the ground could be heard.
The first four candidates were simply the four towering pillars supporting the nineteenth-century edifice of thermodynamics.
"As for the last candidate, Mr. James Clark Maxwell from Britain."
When this name was read out, a slight commotion arose in the audience.
Because among the five candidates announced in the newspapers at the very beginning, Maxwell had generated the most discussion.
Professor Hendrikson did not conceal this controversy, and he said with extreme candor.
"The electromagnetic field dynamic equations proposed by Mr. Maxwell in 1865 exhibit a breathtaking symmetry and beauty on a mathematical level. However, we must admit that his current situation is very difficult."
Speaking of this, the old professor sighed.
"His electromagnetic theory is highly mathematical, and to this day no physical experiment has been able to confirm the true existence of electromagnetic waves. Many mainstream scholars, including lord Kelvin, even harbor doubts about his displacement current hypothesis."
His recognition in the academic community is currently far lower than that of the first four titans. But the jury still put him on the final list. Because some of us firmly believe that this set of equations will one day uncover the ultimate mysteries of light and electricity.
As the introductions concluded.
The five candidates standing at the pinnacle of human physics were like five insurmountable mountains lying before everyone.
"Look ~ This is our dilemma, Gentlemen."
Professor Hendrikson shook his head with a bitter smile, looking very troubled.
"Don't let it make you laugh. In fact, over the past half month or so, the members of the jury have almost argued to the point of dueling over the recipient of this award. For any of these five people to fail to be selected would be a crime against the history of physics. As judges, we cannot make a choice among the founders of experiments, the consolidators of theories, and the prophets of the future."
"Because this is a difficult choice."
He raised his hand and touched the red wax-sealed envelope placed on the podium.
In the auditorium, Felix, sitting in the front row, also narrowed his eyes slightly; he was likewise full of curiosity about this result purely voted on behind closed doors by scholars.
Because he really didn't know.
"Therefore, after an extremely painful choice and a final secret ballot, the jury has made a decision."
Professor Hendrikson tore open the wax seal and pulled out the thick card printed with the golden emblem of the Argyle Family.
He looked at the name on the card and took a deep breath.
"The recipient of the inaugural Argyle Physics Prize is..."
Amplified by the microphone, the old professor's voice resounded through the auditorium.
"Mr. James Prescott Joule! And... Mr. Hermann von Helmholtz!"
Dead silence.
A silence lasting a full ten seconds.
Whether it was the foreign envoys sitting in the audience, the scholars holding their breath, or even Felix sitting in the front row, a flash of bewilderment and shock crossed their eyes.
"Double yolks!"
Amid the fierce competition for the five spots, this group of stubborn old European scholars had actually broken the conventional practice of single winners, forcefully producing a tied-winning result on this stage representing humanity's highest wisdom!
You must know this was not one of those minor awards; this was an international award.
"This... Is this compliant?"
A French journalist sitting in the corner stammered as he asked his companion.
But after a brief moment of bewilderment.
Prompted by someone taking the lead, the auditorium suddenly erupted with tsunami-like applause.
There was no questioning or protest.
All the physicists and all the scholars stood up, clapping frantically.
Indeed, if it were anyone else tying, it might have sparked suspicions of unfairness.
But Joule and Helmholtz? One was the most solid experimental demonstrator of the law of conservation of energy, and the other was the synthesizer who pushed the law of conservation of energy to the pinnacle of perfect theory.
Putting these two together was the complete embodiment of the first law of thermodynamics!
Far from being a compromise, this was the most perfect and undisputed swan song in the history of physics!
Even a hundred years from now, not a single physicist would ever dare to stand up and say that either of these two men was unworthy of sharing this honor!
Amid the thunderous applause, Joule's eyes in the wheelchair grew moist.
Professor Helmholtz also stood up excitedly, bowing deeply in Joule's direction.
"Let us invite the founder of the Argyle Foundation, Mr. Felix Argyle, to the stage to present the awards to the two giant physicists!" Professor Hendrickson announced loudly.
Amid endless cheers and applause, Felix straightened the hem of his tailcoat and walked steadily up to the podium.
On his stern, youthful face, there was no displeasure shown due to the "double yolk" suddenly concocted by the judging panel.
On the contrary, he thoroughly enjoyed this unexpected turn that was beyond control yet extremely reasonable.
Felix walked up to the microphone, pressed his hand down to signal for silence, and spoke with a rare touch of humor.
"Gentlemen."
"Before stepping up to this podium, I had always been full of confidence in the Foundation's legal and financial teams. I even told my Secretary-General Edward to prepare five checks, each in the denomination of fifty thousand dollars."
Felix turned his head, looked at Frost sitting in the audience, and helplessly shrugged.
"But now it seems I have to let Edward go backstage immediately to find a pen. Because this bunch of wise old Gentlemen on the judging panel have just used their professional judgment to make my foundation overdraw by fifty thousand dollars in its very first year."
"Hahahaha..."
A wave of relaxed and good-natured laughter erupted in the grand auditorium.
The atmosphere, originally tense due to the announcement of the grand prize, was instantly resolved by Felix's well-timed, businessman-like self-deprecating remark.
"But..."
Felix's smile gradually faded, and his eyes became incomparably solemn.
He looked at Joule, who was pushed onto the stage in a wheelchair, and Helmholtz, who was walking up briskly.
"This extra fifty thousand dollars is the money I have most gladly spent in my life. Because the judging panel's choice is simply so perfect. Mr. Joule measured the mechanical equivalent of heat using the crudest instruments beside the brewery vat in his basement, and Mr. Helmholtz constructed a theoretical edifice using the most rigorous formulas in his study. The combination of experiment and theory constitutes humanity's most indestructible throne of cognitive understanding regarding energy. In the next hundred years, whenever anyone opens a physics textbook, they will consider today's tie to be the most romantic inevitability in the history of science!"
Thunderous applause rang out once again.
With his persuasive rhetoric, Felix completely settled the legitimacy and greatness of this double-yolk outcome.
Two ceremonial attendants dressed in black uniforms walked onto the stage holding silver trays lined with red velvet.
On the trays were two gold-plated trophies symbolizing scientific breakthroughs, two award certificates written on top-grade parchment, and two sight drafts issued by the Argyle Empire Bank in the exact denomination of fifty thousand dollars.
Felix personally handed the trophies and certificates to Joule and Helmholtz who had come up to the stage.
When passing over the check representing immense wealth, he bowed slightly.
"This is the reward you deserve, sir."
Afterwards, Felix took a step back, yielding the microphone to the two winners.
Because Joule's body remained very weak and he could not stand for a long time to deliver a speech, his chief assistant—Arthur, who had accompanied and cared for him all the way to America by his sickbed—walked to the microphone in his place.
Arthur held a slightly yellowed sheet of letter paper in his hand, his voice sounding somewhat choked with emotion.
"Fellow colleagues. Mr. Joule cannot deliver a speech in person, so he has entrusted me to read his acceptance speech to everyone."
Arthur unfolded the letter paper.
"More than thirty years ago, when I was still in the brewery in Manchester, measuring the water temperature and the fall of heavy objects over and over again, many peers thought I was wasting my time. They did not believe that there existed an equivalence relationship between heat and mechanical work that was hair-raisingly precise."
The words in the letter were plain and unadorned, yet they exuded a tragic sense of walking alone with courage.
"I had no fancy titles or luxury laboratories funded by the state; all I had were thermometers manually polished out of wood and brass. On this long and lonely path, it was the obsession to seek the truth that supported me and kept me from falling."
Arthur raised his head, tears swirling in his eyes, and looked at Felix standing to the side.
"Today, in this magnificent auditorium, Mr. Argyle and the members of the judging panel have used this extremely weighty honor and reward to tell me that every drop of sweat shed back then in the brewery's basement was not in vain. Science has no borders, nor does it have high or low status. As long as you grasp the edge of truth, the world will eventually give you the most impartial reward. Thank you, everyone."
After finishing reading, the assistant bowed deeply.
Many scholars in the audience who had once struggled bitterly amidst funding shortages could not help but redden their eyes, clapping vigorously.
Immediately following, Professor Hermann von Helmholtz walked up to the microphone.
This leader of the German scientific community could likewise hardly conceal his excitement at this moment.
"Scientific research is like groping in a dark forest without light. Each of us can only light up a small area of our own."
Professor Helmholtz's voice was loud and firm.
"I thank Mr. Joule; it was he who pointed the way for me with his experiments. I also thank the candidates present here, Thomson, Clausius, and the young Maxwell. It is your wisdom that has jointly pieced together this edifice named thermodynamics."
Professor Helmholtz turned to Felix.
"Finally, I must thank Mr. Argyle. In Europe, we are accustomed to being bound by the boundaries of nations and countries. Prussians, Frenchmen, Englishmen... We slaughter each other on the battlefield and are politically hostile. But today, in this country across the Atlantic Ocean, this award makes us understand that the laws of nature are responsible only for all of mankind. This fifty-thousand-dollar prize is a resounding slap in the face to Europe's narrow-minded scientific community, and also the strongest guidance pushing us toward a broader future!"
Helmholtz's speech elevated the universal values of science to the pinnacle.
Amid the tide-like applause, the two giants of the physics world, under the escort of security personnel, walked down the podium with supreme glory.
But the frenzy of the award ceremony was only just beginning.
Felix did not step down from the podium, and Professor Hendrickson returned to his side.
"An exceptionally brilliant opening, Mr. Argyle."
The old professor lowered his voice and said with a smile.
"It seems your chief financial officer is going to suffer from insomnia tonight."
"As long as the people you select are worthy of this stage, the vaults of the Imperial Bank are open at any time."
Felix responded with a smile.
He turned to face the audience of a thousand people below the stage, his eyes once again taking on that profound look.
"Physics tells us how this universe operates and what its rules are." Felix's voice echoed in the auditorium.
"That is the supreme constitution written by the Creator."
Felix reached out and pointed at Professor Hendrickson.
"However, as I said before, we don't just need to know the rules. We also need to use our hands within these rules to create, to change, and to synthesize miracles that do not naturally exist in the world. We need a magic that can make the land grow more food, dye fabrics with brilliant colors, and make diseases retreat!"
He looked at the suited, solemn-faced scholars below the stage.
"And this magic, we call it... chemistry."
With Felix's words, the atmosphere of the entire auditorium was instantly pushed to another climax.
"Now, let us welcome Chairman Hendrickson to unveil the final shortlist of candidates for the inaugural Argyle Chemistry Prize!"
Professor Hendrickson stood before the microphone, feeling the hurried breathing of the chemists below due to extreme tension.
What physicists pursued were abstract truths of the universe.
While chemists were tangibly changing the course of human industry and agriculture within flasks and test tubes.
"Mr. Argyle has put it very precisely. If physics is the constitution of the universe, then chemistry is the tool for humanity to transform this world. In the history of exploring this tool, the contributions of five masters are as dazzling as stars."
The old professor opened the nomination list for the chemistry group.
"The first candidate is Mr. Justus von Liebig from Germany."
Professor Liebig, sitting in the front row, straightened his body slightly.
"He is the systematic founder of organic chemistry in our era. He established precise methods for organic quantitative analysis. Even greater is that he extended the tentacles of chemistry into the soil. He pioneered agricultural chemistry, telling farmers what nutrients plants need, and his fertilizer theory pulled countless people back from the brink of starvation! Not only that, but an entire generation of chemists he nurtured, such as Kekulé, drove the birth of the modern chemical industry. He richly deserves the title 'Father of Organic Chemistry'."
Thunderous applause erupted from the audience.
In an era where agriculture was still the lifeline of nations, Liebig's contributions carried immense realistic impact.
"The second candidate is also from Germany, Mr. Friedrich Wöhler."
"1828 was a year of a massive earthquake in the history of chemistry." Professor Hendrickson's tone carried a hint of awe.
"In his laboratory, Mr. Wöhler artificially synthesized urea using simple inorganic substances! This seemingly inconspicuous experiment completely shattered the 'vitalism' that had ruled the scientific community for nearly a century! He proved to the whole world that there is no absolute chasm drawn by God between living and non-living matter. This is the epoch-making event of organic chemistry!"
The whispering in the audience grew louder.
Wöhler's achievements were too legendary; it was a scientific heavy blow that directly subverted human philosophical and theological cognition.
"And the third candidate, Mr. Robert Bunsen, is the pride of Heidelberg University in Germany."
"Step into any chemistry laboratory, and no one hasn't used a 'Bunsen burner'. But this is merely his most insignificant contribution. The spectroscopic analysis method he co-pioneered with Mr. Kirchhoff opened new doors for humanity into the microscopic and macroscopic universes. He used this method to discover new elements like cesium and rubidium. He let us know that even stars millions of light-years away can be understood through spectroscopy to know what they are made of!"
"The fourth candidate is Mr. Friedrich Kekulé. Well, still a German."
When Professor Hendrickson read this, the British and French scholars in the audience smiled wryly with helplessness.
In the mid-19th century, Germany's chemical prowess was indeed in an overwhelming position.
"Mr. Kekulé's benzene ring structural hypothesis proposed in 1865, that dream of a snake biting its own tail, perfectly explained the structural puzzle of aromatic compounds. He laid the most core cornerstone for organic structural chemistry, making countless complex chemical reactions traceable."
The old professor paused for a moment, his gaze shifting to the last person on the list.
"The fifth candidate, Mr. Dmitry Mendeleev from Russia."
Cheers finally erupted from the side of the other scholars.
Of course, they weren't cheering for Mendeleev, but rather that there was finally someone who wasn't from Germany, even if his achievements were still somewhat nebulous.
The introduction of the five candidates was complete.
Liebig, Wöhler, Bunsen, Kekulé, Mendeleev.
These five people represented the strongest lineup of the 19th-century chemical world in agriculture, philosophical breakthroughs, analytical methods, structural theories, and the molecular level.
"Gentlemen."
Professor Hendrickson turned his head, looking at the envelope sealed tightly with sealing wax placed on the other side of the podium.
"Just like the Physics Prize, the selection for the Chemistry Prize is likewise an extremely agonizing torment. We oscillated back and forth among these five pioneers. Every single one of them is worthy of this fifty-thousand-dollar honor."
The professor took a step back and made a gesture inviting Felix forward.
"But the winner, or rather the ultimate representative, can only be unveiled today. Let us invite Mr. Argyle to open for us this envelope that determines the throne of the chemical world."
In the grand auditorium, all the lights seemed to dim, leaving only the spotlight on the podium shining upon Felix.
Felix walked calmly to the front of the podium.
A waiter walked up carrying a silver tray, upon which the red wax-sealed envelope lay quietly.
He didn't look at anyone off the stage.
Felix picked up the envelope, feeling a heavy sense of history.
He manipulated the business world as he pleased, but the name he was about to read out at this moment would be forever engraved on the monument of human scientific history.
The entire audience was silent.
Candidates like Liebig and Wöhler, although trying their utmost to maintain scholarly poise, still betrayed their extreme inner tension with their slightly clenched fists.
Fifty thousand dollars.
The world's top scientific honor.
This was enough to make anyone's breathing shallow.
Felix extended his slender fingers and cleanly snapped open the red sealing wax stamp on the envelope. Accompanied by a crisp snapping sound, he pulled a folded piece of hard cardstock out of the envelope.
He slowly opened the cardstock.
When his gaze fell upon the name jointly signed by thirty-five judges on the cardstock.
Felix's brow arched upward slightly, a rare occurrence.
In those deep, pitch-black eyes, an obvious look of surprise flashed by.
Although this trace of surprise was fleeting, it was still captured by the foreign envoys and seasoned scholars in the front row who were staring closely at him.
"What is going on? Could it be another dual-winner?"
British Prime Minister Gladstone, sitting in the front row, muttered inwardly to himself.
Felix put away the surprise in his eyes.
Raising his head, his gaze swept past the authorities in the front row and looked straight across the entire grand auditorium.
He placed the cardstock on the podium and leaned closer to the microphone.
"Well... This is a resolution that is rather unexpected yet entirely reasonable."
Felix's voice reverberated in the silent auditorium, dangling everyone's anticipation to the absolute extreme.
Without pausing further, he decisively announced.
"The winner of the inaugural Argyle Chemistry Prize is..."
The spotlights on the dome of the grand auditorium illuminated the podium brightly.
"The winner of the inaugural Argyle Chemistry Prize is..."
Enhanced by the loudspeaker, Felix's voice seemed imbued with a certain magic, striking clearly against everyone's eardrums.
"Mr. Friedrich Wöhler!"
When the name echoed through the grand auditorium, the audience below experienced a very brief silence.
Then, thunderous applause erupted suddenly, making the stained-glass windows of the grand auditorium tremble slightly.
Sitting in the front row, several German chemistry giants such as Professor Justus von Liebig, Robert Bunsen, and Kekulé not only showed not a shred of jealousy, but instead stood up immediately and warmly applauded the seventy-two-year-old elderly man sitting among them.
Friedrich Wöhler sat in his chair, his whole body seeming as if struck by an electric current.
He was already an elderly man at death's door.
It had been a full forty-four years since he synthesized urea using ammonium cyanate in his laboratory in Berlin in 1828.
Forty-four years.
The vicissitudes of half a century.
In these long years, he had watched organic chemistry come into being from nothing, and watched his students and colleagues build towering theoretical structures within the door he had smashed open.
But his own name, it seemed, had gradually turned into dry, lifeless symbols in textbooks as time passed.
And today, in this magnificent auditorium on the other side of the Atlantic Ocean, this honor worth fifty thousand dollars, representing the recognition of humanity's highest wisdom, spanned nearly half a century and landed firmly on his shoulders.
"You did it; the whole world has not forgotten you."
Kekulé, sitting beside Wöhler, helped the excited old man up, making his teacher Liebig, sitting next to him, feel somewhat jealous.
"I am your teacher!"
Wöhler walked toward the podium with unsteady steps.
Felix walked forward with a smile, handing the trophy, certificate, and check to the old man in turn.
"Mr. Wöhler, this is humanity's belated coronation of your intellect."
Deep respect permeated Felix's tone.
Wöhler tightly grasped the trophy, tears streaming down his aged face.
He walked to the loudspeaker, looked at the top scholars standing and applauding below the stage, and his lips trembled for a long time before he produced a hoarse voice.
"Good God... I thought the world had long forgotten the crucible in that basement in Berlin."
Wöhler's voice was somewhat intermittent, yet filled with strength.
"Forty-four years ago, when I watched those white urea crystals precipitate in the test tube, my heart was filled with terror. Because in that era, everyone believed that only the 'vital force' bestowed by God could create organic matter. I thought I would be burned at the stake as a heretic."
The scholars below listened quietly, many young researchers even holding their breath.
They were listening to a living history of science.
"In fact, I did not create life; I merely proved that the laws of nature treat mud and flesh equally. Today, Mr. Argyle and the judging panel presented this honor to me, making me understand one thing."
Wöhler raised the gold trophy in his hand, tears glistening in his cloudy eyes.
"Truth may be buried by time, and it may be ignored by arrogance. But before the true spirit of science, it will never be forgotten! Thank you, Mr. Argyle, and thank you to the judging panel. I will donate all fifty thousand dollars to the chemistry laboratory of the University of Göttingen, allowing more young people to smash the shackles that hinder human thought!"
The old man's speech elicited prolonged and unceasing applause.
Liebig and the others nodded vigorously from below the stage.
The judging panel's choice was truly brilliant.
Awarding the chemistry prize to Wöhler was not only an affirmation of the old man, but also a sacred retrospective tracing of the entire origin of organic chemistry.
The applause gradually subsided, and Wöhler walked back to his seat with the support of his assistant.
Felix took a step back, once again yielding the position to Hendrikson, chairman of the judging panel.
Next would be the most eye-catching third award of the night—the Physiology or Medicine Prize.
"Gentlemen."
Professor Hendrikson stood in front of the loudspeaker once more, his expression turning serious.
"Physics tells us how the world works, and chemistry gives us the tools to transform the world. But for us humans ourselves, nothing is more urgent than fighting disease and fighting death. The Physiology or Medicine Prize exists to reward those warriors who snatch lives from the hands of the Grim Reaper."
The old professor opened the roster in his hands.
"The first core candidate for the Medicine Prize is Mr. Louis Pasteur from France."
Warm whispers immediately arose from the audience, because Pasteur's name was simply too resounding in Europe.
"Mr. Pasteur is the founder of microbiology in our era. He refuted the absurd 'theory of spontaneous generation' and proved that the culprits causing fermentation and spoilage are those microorganisms invisible to our naked eyes. The pasteurization method he invented saved France's brewing industry; he conquered silkworm diseases and rescued countless bankrupt farmers. More importantly, he pointed out to humanity the great prototype that diseases are caused by microorganisms. He is an explorer of the microscopic world."
"The second candidate is Mr. Joseph Lister from the United Kingdom."
"Those of you present may not have entered a surgical operating room. In the past, it was practically a slaughterhouse, with surgical mortality rates as high as over forty percent, and patients often died from postoperative purulent infections. It was Mr. Lister who, based on microbial theory, founded surgical carbolic acid disinfection. He reduced the mortality rate to below fifteen percent. He launched a true surgical revolution and is the mentor of all surgeons."
Hendrikson continued reading down the list.
"Third, Mr. Rudolf Virchow of Germany. He founded cellular pathology and put forward the great assertion that 'all cells come from cells', laying a solid foundation for modern pathology."
"Fourth, Mr. Theodor Schwann, also from Germany. As a co-founder of cell theory, he revealed to us the unity of the microscopic structure of animals."
When the first four candidates were read out, the atmosphere in the auditorium was still quite stable.
The contributions of these four individuals in the fields of medicine and physiology were obvious to all.
"Fifth core candidate, Mr. Charles Darwin of the United Kingdom."
"An uproar—"
A commotion instantly erupted among the audience.
Even the diplomatic envoys sitting in the front row could not help whispering to each other.
Darwin!
This name was currently definitely a taboo vocabulary word capable of triggering societal tearing apart.
Professor Hendrikson raised his volume, suppressing the murmur from below the stage.
"I know this name will cause controversy. Mr. Darwin's work "On the Origin of Species" published in 1859 put forward the theory of biological evolution. To this day, the fact of evolution has gradually been accepted by the academic community, but his 'natural selection mechanism' still faces enormous controversy. The church launched fierce attacks against him, accusing him of desecrating the dignity of the Creator."
The old professor's gaze swept across the entire audience, his tone revealing the unyielding pride belonging to a scientist.
Furthermore, Mr. Darwin's research leaned more toward natural history, seeming still a distance away from clinical medicine that saves lives.
However, the judging panel still listed him as a core candidate.
Because the end of physiology is the origin of life.
With great courage, he revealed to us how life has walked to the present day through long years.
Science never bows its head to theology!
These words won warm cheers from many young scholars in the audience.
Five candidates, ranging from microscopic microorganisms and cells to macroscopic surgery, and then to the theory of evolution on the origin of life.
The intensity of the competition for the Medical Prize was not inferior in the slightest to physics and chemistry.
Professor Hendrikson turned his head and looked at Felix.
"Mr. Argyle, please unveil this envelope capable of piercing the haze of the Grim Reaper."
Shrugging with a helpless expression, Felix stepped forward and picked up the red sealing-wax envelope from the tray.
Then, sweeping his gaze across Francis Darwin—who was attending on behalf of Darwin—and other candidates down the stage, he tore open the envelope directly without any superfluous actions and pulled out the card.
"The winner of the inaugural Argyle Physiology or Medicine Prize is..."
"The pride of France, the discoverer of the microscopic world, Mr. Louis Pasteur!"
"Louis Pasteur!"
The moment Felix called out the name, the cheers inside the grand auditorium even drowned out the previous Physics Prize.
The French delegation's section erupted into cheers.
Several academicians from the Paris Academy of Sciences jumped up excitedly and hugged each other.
After the defeat in the Franco-Prussian War, the entire French nation had fallen into extreme depression and self-doubt; they desperately needed a world-class honor to reignite the pride of France.
In the front row, Louis Pasteur sat frozen in his seat.
The fifty-year-old French scientist's sideburns were already greying.
Years of toil under the microscope and fanatical dedication to science had made his body appear somewhat lean.
His wife tightly held his hand, tears streaming from her eyes.
Nearby, the runner-up, Mr. Joseph Lister, showed not a trace of disappointment; he sincerely turned around and extended his hand to Pasteur.
"Congratulations, Mr. Pasteur. It was your microbial theory that gave me the inspiration for surgical antisepsis. You are my guiding light, and you well deserve this award."
Pasteur grasped Lister's hand, his voice trembling: "Thank you... Thank you, Dr. Lister."
Amidst thunderous applause, Pasteur walked up to the podium with the support of his wife.
Felix handed the trophy, certificate, and check to this great Frenchman.
"Mr. Pasteur. What is in your test tube is not chemical reagents, but countless lives about to wither. France should be proud of you," Felix said with a smile.
"Thank you for your generosity, Mr. Argyle." Pasteur took the trophy and walked to the microphone.
Looking at the respectful faces off the stage, he secretly gathered his breath inwardly.
"Uh... In my laboratory, there is no smoke of gunpowder, nor rumbling artillery fire. But a war is being fought every day."
Pasteur's voice was not all that loud, yet it exuded a resilience that struck straight at the soul.
"My enemies are invisible and intangible. They lurk in the suppuration of wounds, in souring wine barrels, and in dying cocoons. They are Death's most secretive assassins."
The entire auditorium fell so silent that only Pasteur's voice remained.
"When mothers who have lost their children weep in hospital corridors, when farmers bankrupted by crop failures sigh in despair, I tell myself that the theory of spontaneous generation is a complete and utter lie! Disease is not God's punishment, but an enemy that can be defeated!"
Pasteur raised the trophy in his hand, his eyes burning with fervor.
"This fifty thousand dollars will not be left for myself either. I will establish an institute in Paris dedicated to the study of microorganisms and infectious diseases. I will root out those pathogenic bacteria still hiding in the darkness one by one! I want our children never again to suffer from the torment of those terrible plagues. Science will surely pierce the gloom of Death!"
Long-lasting applause erupted from off the stage.
This roar, made purely for saving lives, crossed the boundaries of nations and languages, shaking the hearts of everyone present.
After Pasteur stepped down from the podium, the atmosphere inside the auditorium remained enthusiastic.
Having successively presented three extremely hardcore science awards, the scholars' brains had been in a state of high excitement.
Felix walked back to the microphone, not immediately having Professor Hendrickson read the next award, but speaking himself.
"Gentlemen, physics, chemistry, medicine. With these three awards, we pay tribute to the pioneers of humanity on the path of transforming the material world and fighting against death."
Felix's tone turned soothing, carrying a captivating rhythm.
"However, humans are different from machines. Machines can run as long as they have coal and water. But humans—if we only have bread and antibiotics, yet lose the ability to think and empathize, then what difference is there between us and the beasts in the wilderness?"
He looked at those faces from different countries off the stage.
"We need someone to record the birth pangs of the era, someone to interrogate the conscience of capital, and someone to light a lamp called 'humanity' for us in the darkness. This is why I wanted to establish the literature prize. Because without the nourishment of literature, no matter how powerful an empire is, it is merely an iron shell without a soul."
Felix took a step back.
"Next, please let Chairman Hendrickson read to us the shortlist of core candidates for the literature prize."
Professor Hendrickson stepped forward and opened the roster.
"The first core candidate for the literature prize. Mr. Victor Hugo from France."
Once this name was uttered, no further words were needed.
Throughout the European continent of the nineteenth century, Hugo was the sun of the literary world.
"Mr. Hugo is the absolute leader of European romantic literature. *The Hunchback of Notre-Dame*, *Les Misérables*, *Toilers of the Sea*... His works have long crossed national borders and spread throughout Europe. Not only has he reached the pinnacle of literary achievements, but because of his firm defense of democracy and opposition to despotism, he lived in exile overseas for many years. In 1870, he returned to France and was welcomed with nationwide adoration. He is the most influential writer in the world at present and a symbol of Europe's conscience."
"As for the second candidate, Mr. Leo Tolstoy from Russia."
"Mr. Tolstoy is the pinnacle figure of realist literature. In 1869, his epic masterpiece *War and Peace* was fully published. This work depicts the historical canvas of Russian society with an extremely grand perspective. His reputation in Western Europe is rising rapidly, and he is a literary giant with immense potential."
"Third. Mr. Alfred Tennyson of Britain."
"As the Poet Laureate of the Victorian era, works such as *In Memoriam A.H.H.* are widely circulated in the English-speaking world. He is an irreplaceable poet in the hearts of the British people. But objectively speaking, his influence on the European continent is slightly inferior to the first two."
"Fourth. Mr. Gustave Flaubert of France."
"Mr. Flaubert's *Madame Bovary* pioneered the narrative paradigm of the modern novel. His innovation in writing technique reached an extremely high level. But his work belongs to the 'writer's writer', and in terms of public popularity and social prestige, he is currently inferior to Mr. Hugo."
"Fifth. Mr. Theodor Fontane of Germany. He is a representative of German realism, and his works span journalism and fiction, profoundly narrating the social style and features of Northern German society."
After reading out the five candidates, many scholars off the stage nodded secretly.
This list was of a very high caliber.
It included both already-deified romantic leaders like Hugo, rising realist superstars like Tolstoy, and innovators of poetry and novel techniques alike.
Professor Hendrickson looked at the envelope on the table.
"The judgment of literature is more subjective than science. The judges engaged in fierce debates among these five literary giants. Between the sharpness of realism and the grandeur of romanticism, which one can better represent the depth of the human soul? The final decision still rests inside this envelope."
Felix stepped forward and picked up the envelope representing the highest honor of literature.
He tore open the sealing wax and pulled out the card, his gaze falling on that name.
"The winner of the inaugural Argyle Literature Prize is..."
"The exiled fighter, the conscience of France, Mr. Victor Hugo!"
"Victor Hugo!"
Prolonged applause rang out inside the grand auditorium.
Although Leo Tolstoy's War and Peace was written magnificently, at this time node of 1872, Hugo's position in the European literary world was unshakable.
He was not only a writer, but a living legend, a fighter who had lived in exile overseas for nineteen years to uphold democratic ideals.
Giving the literary award to Hugo, no one dared to raise any objections.
This represented the Argyle Foundation's highest recognition of universal human conscience and the spirit of resistance.
Because Victor Hugo was advanced in age and had just ended his long exile to return to a turbulent France, he could not personally endure the bumpy journey across the Atlantic Ocean.
Representing him to come to New York to accept the award was Pierre, a famous publisher in the French literary world and a close friend of Hugo.
Pierre, wearing a crisp black tailcoat, walked up to the podium with red-rimmed eyes.
Felix solemnly handed the trophy and the fifty-thousand-dollar check into his hands.
Pierre placed the trophy on the lecture podium and pulled out a parchment letter personally written by Hugo from his inner pocket.
He cleared his throat and began to read in passionate French, with a translator immediately providing simultaneous English interpretation through the loudspeaker.
"The sea breeze of the Atlantic Ocean cannot blow to the streets of Paris, but I have heard the call from the New World. Mr. Argyle, and all respected judges, thank you for bestowing this honor upon a stubborn old man who writes."
Even when translated, Hugo's words still carried that majestic romanticist aura and the power to strike straight into people's hearts.
"I have spent my life writing about poverty, suffering, and humanity's struggle under the wheels of fate. In Les Misérables, Jean Valjean stole a piece of bread, yet paid the price of nineteen years of penal servitude. In this world, material poverty is certainly terrifying, but the indifference of the soul and the ruthlessness of the law are the true hell."
The entire auditorium was dead silent, and all the scientists and politicians were immersed in the profound thoughts of this literary master.
"Capital is often profit-driven, like a cold machine. But I am very gratified to see that this machine of America has grown a heart that cares about the beating of civilization. Fifty thousand dollars is an astonishing fortune, enough to buy all the candlesticks in Notre-Dame de Paris. But I will use this money to establish more orphanages and free schools in Paris. Because as long as there is still a child starving in the sewers, as long as there is still a Jean Valjean crying in the darkness, a writer's pen can never stop."
After reading the final sentence, Pierre pressed the letter against his chest and bowed deeply.
"May the light illuminate the earth."
Warm applause rang out once again, and this applause had a bit less fanaticism, but more profound awe.
The power of literature was displayed to the fullest at this moment.
The literary award presentation was concluded.
The atmosphere inside the grand auditorium suddenly became somewhat subtle.
Everyone knew that the final award, which had the most outside speculation and the greatest controversy, was about to be revealed.
The Peace Prize.
In that era of great powers vying for hegemony and gunboats firing everywhere, talking about peace itself was an ironic matter.
What is more, among these five candidates, the current prime minister of the world's strongest empire was actually mixed in.
Felix walked back up to the podium and personally picked up the candidate list for the Peace Prize.
His deep gaze swept across British Prime Minister William Gladstone sitting in the front row, as well as the envoys from other European countries.
"Gentlemen. Tonight's first four awards are presented to the great men who toiled diligently in front of desks, under microscopes, and on manuscript paper. They created tools and thoughts for humanity."
Felix's voice echoed in the silent auditorium, carrying a sense of controlling the whole situation.
"But if tools are in the hands of madmen, if thoughts are reduced to ashes by the flames of war, all our efforts will be meaningless. Peace is the only shield maintaining all this fragile civilization. Let us see, in this century full of gunpowder smoke, which five pioneers are striving to forge this shield."
"The first core candidate is Mr. Henry Dunant from Switzerland."
"After the cruel Battle of Solferino, he founded the Red Cross. He promoted the 1864 Geneva Convention, establishing the principle of neutral rescue for wounded soldiers on the battlefield. He added a glimmer of humanitarianism to the battlefield."
"The second candidate. Mr. Frédéric Passy from France."
"He founded the International League of Peace, running everywhere in Europe, advocating the use of international arbitration to replace national disputes. He is the core theorist of the European peace movement."
"The third candidate, Mr. Richard Cobden from Britain."
"He firmly believed that free trade could eliminate war, because when the interests of two countries are deeply bound together, opening fire is equivalent to suicide. He is a Vanguard against militarism."
"The fourth. Mr. Giuseppe Mazzini from Italy."
"Although his concept of national self-determination was accompanied by revolution and bloodshed, his ultimate ideal was to establish a utopia where all European nations were equal and harmonious. He is a warrior who draws his sword for peace."
After reading the first four, the scholars offstage nodded one after another.
Whether from the perspective of humanitarian rescue, diplomatic theory, or national awakening, these four people were absolutely worthy of the Peace Prize nomination.
Felix paused, his gaze looking straight at Gladstone sitting right in the middle.
"The fifth core candidate. The current cabinet prime minister of the British Empire, Mr. William Gladstone."
When this name and title were read out, the air in the auditorium seemed to be instantly sucked dry.
Although everyone had long seen the list in the newspapers, placing politicians and those idealists together in front of thousands of top scholars worldwide still made people feel a strong sense of fragmentation.
"I think everyone knows. Prime Minister Gladstone's nomination has triggered huge controversy over the past month."
Felix did not evade this question, instead pulling off this fig leaf straightforwardly.
"Some people asked me, did the Argyle Foundation bow down to power? Did it want to use fifty thousand dollars to bribe the British Empire?"
The French and German envoys offstage pricked up their ears; they wanted to see how this American oligarch would smooth this over.
"My answer is: Absolutely not."
Felix's voice suddenly rose, resounding powerfully.
"We nominated Prime Minister Gladstone because we saw a scarce quality... under the condition of possessing absolute military force, still being willing to maintain restraint."
Felix pointed in the direction of Gladstone.
"The British Empire has the largest navy in the world. If they wanted to speak with cannons, no one could stop them, and they had done so before. But during his tenure, Prime Minister Gladstone braved opposition to advocate disarmament, promoted diplomatic reconciliation, and firmly opposed the excessive expansion of the empire's territory. He told us with practical actions that true peace is not the powerless wailing of the weak, but the blade proactively put away by the strong!"
This defense, which was full of equivocating color yet logically rigorous, plunged many people offstage into deep thought.
Even the most aloof scholars had to admit that if a prime minister holding military power did not launch a war, his actual contribution to world peace was indeed greater than a hundred pacifists marching in the streets.
Otherwise, look at the big things Lao Te pulled off after letting himself go upon knowing he didn't win the award over a hundred years later.
Gladstone sat as steady as Mount Tai in his chair, deeply admiring Felix's words in his heart.
This young man not only gave him the award, but even prepared the rhetoric to help him return home to deal with his political rivals.
Felix picked up the sealing wax envelope and directly tore open the seal.
"The final winner of the inaugural Argyle Peace Prize is—"
"The Prime Minister of the British Empire, Mr. William Gladstone!"
"William Gladstone!"
As Felix read out that name, the grand auditorium first fell into a brief silence.
In fact, everyone was mentally prepared, after all the previous buildup.
Immediately following that, a round of applause that was more complex than any previous one, yet equally enthusiastic, erupted.
While applauding, the politically savvy ministers and shrewd scholars were rapidly calculating in their minds what kind of shockwaves this result would bring to the world order.
The current Prime Minister of the British Empire was canonized in this international award founded by America financial conglomerates.
This was not only Gladstone's personal victory, but even more so the final, decisive blow by the Argyle Foundation to thoroughly establish its international authority.
Gladstone stood up from his seat.
He straightened his exquisitely tailored suit and most gentlemanly greeted the surrounding scholars who were applauding.
He walked onto the podium with steady steps.
When he received the heavy trophy and the fifty-thousand-dollar check from Felix's hands, their gazes intersected at an extremely close distance.
That was an exchange of glances laden with tacit understanding about South America railways and global shipping routes that only the two of them could fully comprehend.
"Thank you, Mr. Argyle, and thank you to the judging panel."
Gladstone walked up to the microphone, his voice rich and powerful, displaying the commanding presence of a top-tier politician.
"Standing here, my heart is filled with great trepidation. Because standing beside me are physicists who have deciphered the laws of the universe, medical giants who have defeated plagues, and literary titans who have written immortal poems."
Gladstone lowered his posture with extreme humility.
"And I am merely a civil servant handling miscellaneous documents in Whitehall. Earlier, Mr. Argyle said that true peace is the blade proactively put away by the strong. This sentence has made me deeply feel the heavy responsibility; it is profound!"
He cast his gaze around the audience below the stage.
"This world is full of disputes and greed. As the current global hegemon, the British Empire ought to shoulder greater moral responsibility. I assure everyone present here that as long as I remain in the position of Prime Minister, I will do my utmost to replace battlefields with negotiation tables and tariff barriers with free trade. I will also donate this fifty-thousand-dollar prize money entirely to the London disabled veterans relief fund."
Gladstone raised the trophy, completing what could only be described as a flawless political show.
"May the light of reason forever shine upon the land of civilization."
Thunderous applause broke out.
Gladstone not only acquired the honor, but also cleanly cleared himself of the suspicion of politicians being greedy for wealth.
It could be foreseen that when tomorrow's newspapers were transmitted back to London, his prestige in the House of Commons would reach an unprecedented peak.
With all five awards and six winners fully revealed,
this unprecedented award ceremony finally entered its concluding stage.
Felix stepped onto the podium once again to begin tonight's closing speech.
"Gentlemen, ladies. Tonight, we have witnessed history."
Felix's gaze swept across the faces of Joule, Helmholtz, Pasteur, Pierre (representing Hugo), and Gladstone one by one.
"These six masters standing at the pinnacle of human wisdom and conscience have endowed our five-million-dollar foundation with a truly priceless soul. Starting from today, the Argyle Science and Peace Prize will become the lighthouse in the heart of every explorer."
Felix rested both hands on the podium, his tone becoming extremely sincere and full of expectation.
"However, the function of the foundation is merely to reward the past. What we truly must face is a much more vast future. The progress of science cannot rely solely on a few geniuses fighting alone in basements. It needs soil, it needs the most advanced instruments, it needs a continuous stream of funding, and even more, it needs the inheritance of young blood from generation to generation."
Felix raised his hand, pointing at the dome of this magnificent grand auditorium, as well as the teaching buildings outside the windows that were still brightly lit amidst the night.
"Everyone. The place you are sitting in right now is the soil I have prepared for the future—Argyle University."
Many scholars off the stage, including those young researchers who had traveled at their own expense to visit, held their breath and concentrated.
They vaguely guessed what Felix was going to say next.
"Here, carrying a bit of selfishness, I extend an invitation to all brains across the world that possess talent and yearn for truth."
A gentle smile curved the corners of Felix's mouth, his voice carrying an instigative quality in the night sky.
"In June, Argyle University will officially open enrollment globally. We possess the world's top laboratories, and practical workshops connected to the entire North American industrial system. However, we currently still lack the spark capable of lighting up these laboratories—that is, the most outstanding professors and researchers."
Felix's gaze looked straight at those European scholars sitting off the stage.
"I know many people present here are deeply troubled by seniority-based hierarchy and funding shortages in European universities. If you have talent, if you have crazy ideas in your mind, Argyle University welcomes you."
He unblushingly tossed out bare, undisguised terms.
"Here there is no bureaucratic obstruction, only unlimited research funding; there are no outdated dogmas, only the highest-level salary and benefits. As long as you dare to come, the Argyle Family dares to foot the bill for all your madness!"
This declaration, which was nearly tantamount to openly poaching people, turned the faces of the European ministers sitting in the front rows ashen.
But for those grassroots scholars, this was simply the gospel horn coming straight from heaven!
"Perhaps I can go to Argyle University!"
This thought quietly slipped into the minds of all participating scholars.
"Gentlemen, tonight's grand ceremony concludes here. But before it ends, please allow me to leave behind an eternal commemoration."
He waved his hand.
That huge large-format wooden camera was pushed onto the podium once again.
Felix smiled and walked to the center of the podium. Joule, sitting in a wheelchair, was pushed to his side, Helmholtz and Pasteur stood on his two sides, and Wöhler, the French representative Pierre, and Prime Minister Gladstone flanked both sides.
The six newly crowned individuals, together with Felix, the America oligarch, completed a historic group photo in this university auditorium symbolizing the future center of knowledge and power.
"Boom!"
The blinding magnesium flash burst forth once more, and white smoke rose.
The afterimages left on the retinas by the dazzling white light of the flashlights had not yet completely dissipated, and the smell of gunpowder smoke mixed with the aroma of cigars inside the grand auditorium proclaimed the successful conclusion of a coronation ceremony worthy of going down in history.
The crowd began to disperse in an orderly fashion, but the excitement on everyone's face had not diminished in the slightest.
Scholars gathered in groups of three or five, discussing the juxtaposition of Joule and Helmholtz, the microscopic world of Louis Pasteur, and the political speech delivered by the Prime Minister of the British Empire when receiving the Peace Prize.
Henry, a young French chemist, and his German companion Klaus walked out of the grand auditorium following the flow of the crowd.
The early summer night breeze blew against their burning cheeks, bringing a hint of coolness.
In the distance, the teaching buildings were still brightly lit in the night, a city that never sleeps prepared by Argyle University for these scholars.
"Klaus, pinch my arm."
Henry walked on the gravel path, his voice still somewhat floating.
"I feel like I am dreaming. Not only did we meet Mr. Wöhler, but we also watched with our own eyes as he won the award and took away fifty thousand dollars. That is fifty thousand dollars!"
Klaus didn't bother to do such a boring thing as pinching Henry's arm; with his hands tucked into his coat pockets, he touched the reserve researcher contract signed before the banquet.
"This is not a dream, Henry. This is the New World."
Klaus turned his head and glanced at the magnificent grand auditorium.
"Let's go back to the temporary dormitory.
Early tomorrow morning, we have to go to the administrative building to exchange for the official laboratory keys.
Starting tomorrow, we will no longer be those poor lecturers at the Sorbonne and the University of Göttingen who can't even afford to pay their gas bills."
The next morning.
The sunlight pierced through the thin morning mist, shining on the crisscrossing streets.
As the official faculty dormitories of Argyle University were still undergoing final internal deodorization, Henry, Klaus, and other newly signed young scholars were temporarily accommodated in a hotel in Midtown Manhattan.
At seven in the morning, the two walked out of the hotel and sat down at an American-style restaurant on the corner of the street.
The restaurant was buzzing with voices, and the iron griddle sizzled.
The fat boss wearing a burlap apron deftly flipped eggs and bacon, and the rich aroma of grease and the bitter fragrance of freshly ground coffee blended together, stimulating everyone's taste buds.
"Two servings of fried eggs with extra bacon. Two cups of black coffee, and a few slices of toast."
Henry ordered from the waitress in somewhat stiff English.
Soon, the steaming hot breakfast was served on the table.
Henry picked up his fork, stuffed the crispy fried bacon into his mouth, and after chewing a few times, let out a satisfied sigh.
"In Paris, a breakfast full of meat and grease like this would cost at least half a day's salary.
But here, it only costs a few cents.
Klaus, can you believe it?
Ordinary dockworkers here can actually eat meat for breakfast!"
"That's incredible~"
Klaus picked up the thick ceramic mug and took a sip of coffee.
"The abundance of supplies in America indeed exceeds our imagination.
They have vast plains to grow wheat and countless pastures to raise cattle.
What's even more terrifying is that Argyle Food Company uses assembly lines to turn these things into reasonably priced commodities."
Klaus pointed to a glass jar on the table.
"Look at the sealing lid of this jam; it is the product of industrial stamping, and its cost is surprisingly low."
Just as the two were enjoying this hearty breakfast with distinct American characteristics, a newsboy rushed into the restaurant carrying a stack of newspapers.
"Extra! Extra! Six deities born in New York!
Mr. Argyle's shocking speech!
His Excellency the Prime Minister promises world peace!"
Workers and businessmen eating breakfast in the restaurant successively took out coins to buy newspapers.
After all, during this period, the matter of the awards had been hyped up by the newspapers under News Media Company, and everyone was interested to see who had won the awards.
Henry also bought a copy of The New York Tribune.
On the front page of the newspaper was the large group photo frozen under the flashlight from last night.
Although the photo was in black and white, every face in the front row could still be clearly recognized.
Felix stood right in the center, flanked by Prime Minister Gladstone and Professor Helmholtz.
"Look at the layout of this page."
Klaus leaned over to take a look and couldn't help praising.
"A full four pages detailed the lives and contributions of the six winners.
Even the details of Mr. Wöhler shedding tears on stage were written clearly.
The News Media Company of the Argyle Family has simply turned this award ceremony into a national carnival."
"This is precisely the terrifying thing about Mr. Argyle."
Henry put down the newspaper and wiped his mouth.
"He not only understands the value of science, but he also knows how to use newspapers to manipulate people's minds.
In Europe, science is a salon game for aristocrats and scholars.
But here, he has turned science into a topic that everyone can understand and participate in discussing."
After finishing breakfast, the two called a carriage and headed straight to the Manhattan liaison office of Argyle University.
The liaison office was located in a three-story small building near Wall Street.
When they pushed the door open and went in, they found that the lobby was already crowded with people.
These people were all European scholars like them who had signed preliminary contracts last night or in the past few days.
Professor Arthur Penhaligon was standing behind a large table, directing several clerks to process official employment procedures for everyone.
"Henry! Klaus! You've come just at the right time."
Seeing them, Arthur immediately waved.
"Come over and sign the official employment contract, and by the way, collect your salary advance slips and laboratory door keys."
Henry squeezed to the front of the table and took the thick document.
He carefully looked at the terms on the contract.
There were no harsh commuting time restrictions, and no rigid indicators on how many papers must be published.
The only requirement was that for all technical patents developed using university equipment and funds, the commercial conversion rights would have priority ownership by enterprises under the Argyle Family, with the inventors enjoying a ten percent net profit dividend.
"This is simply the most generous exploitation in the world."
Henry signed his name without hesitation.
He knew very well in his heart that without those expensive equipment and funds, his theories were worthless.
A ten percent commercial dividend, if it were an invention capable of changing an industry, would be an astronomical figure.
Klaus also signed and then took a heavy bunch of brass keys from the clerk's hand.
"Take them, these are the keys to Biology Laboratory No. 3."
Professor Arthur patted Klaus on the shoulder.
"Four of the latest Carl Zeiss binocular microscopes are already equipped inside, along with a small constant-temperature culture room.
Go ahead and enjoy looking at your plant cell slices.
If you need any special reagents, just make a list and hand it over to the purchasing department; I suppose they will handle it, won't they?"
Henry and Klaus looked at each other, both seeing the eagerness in each other's eyes.
After leaving the liaison office, the two boarded a carriage once again and headed straight for the upstate university campus.
When they pushed open the door of their own independent laboratory with the key, the sense of shock was even stronger than in the auditorium last night.
The spacious operation counters, bright glass windows, neatly arranged test tube racks, and machines emitting a metallic luster.
All of this was quietly awaiting the arrival of its masters.
"Klaus."
Henry walked up to the operation counter, reached out to stroke its cold and smooth surface, his voice somewhat choked.
"I lived in a basement in Paris for three years, and couldn't even piece together a decent distillation apparatus.
But here, they gave me a castle outright."
Klaus spread his hands, walked over to the microscope, and deftly adjusted the focal length.
"Don't be like that, buddy, let's repay this castle with our research results.
Henry, bring out your aniline dye extraction formula.
We'll start the first set of control experiments today.
Let those old diehards in Europe see how fast we can run once we leave their seniority-based system."