Chapter 140 - 57: The Last Lesson

Chapter 140: Chapter 57: The Last Lesson

"When you gaze into the abyss, the abyss gazes also into you. Nietzsche’s quote has been cited countless times, but only when you truly stand at the edge of the abyss and feel that chill emanating from the depths of the darkness..."

Professor Ning’s voice echoed in the dead-silent classroom.

"...will you understand that there are some things we shouldn’t touch, and some boundaries we cannot cross.

"But!" He suddenly raised his voice. "If we don’t touch them, if we don’t cross them, how will we know if we are living in a massive lie?

"Even if we are torn to pieces, even if our reputations are utterly ruined, even if we are misunderstood and spat upon by the world... as scientists, we must reveal the truth—even if it is just a corner of it—to the world!"

At this point, Professor Ning abruptly stopped. He seemed to have thought of something. Looking at the sparse number of students in the audience, he opened his mouth but did not continue.

"Children," he said, his voice softening. The impassioned grief and indignation gradually faded, replaced by a complex mix of compassion, kindness, and helplessness. "I know you might not understand what I’m saying right now. Perhaps you think I’m making excuses for myself, or just talking nonsense."

He smiled, a smile full of bitterness and exhaustion. "It’s fine. It’s best if you don’t understand. Some things are simply not meant for you to bear at your age."

He walked to the side of the podium and picked up the thermos that had accompanied him for years, gently rubbing the chipped paint. Looking up at the rainy night outside the window and then back at the students, his voice grew heavy with affectionate earnestness, as if he were looking at his own children.

"In my life, I’ve taught many students. Some became great scientists, some switched fields to finance or the internet, and some... don’t even want to mention they majored in physics anymore.

"But no matter where you go or what you do in the future, I hope you remember one sentence: Never stop thinking. Never stop doubting. Even if the whole world tells you that this is the truth, that this is reality, you must leave a place in your heart for the word ’if’.

"Just like Socrates, who was sentenced to death for questioning the authority of Athens; Galileo, who was placed under house arrest for life by the Curia for insisting on heliocentrism; Darwin, who challenged creationism and the immutability of species; and Einstein, who overthrew Newton’s concept of absolute space and time...

"Science is an ’art of doubt.’ Because the essence of science is not acceptance, but questioning; not obedience, but rebellion.

"If one day, you find that this world is no longer real, if you find that all paths are blocked, please do not be afraid, and do not give up. Because at that seemingly hopeless dead end, there must be another path hidden.

"You must explore, you must question, until... you see the ultimate answer."

Several uniformed campus security guards rushed in, clutching walkie-talkies. "Professor Ning, please come with us."

The leader, his face grim, charged straight to the podium and interrupted Professor Ning. "The college just received a report. There are a lot of reporters outside right now. For your safety, and for the reputation of the university, please cooperate."

Professor Ning’s words came to a grinding halt. He didn’t resist, nor did he offer any more explanations.

He simply took off his reading glasses slowly, folded them carefully, and placed them in his breast pocket. Then he picked up that thermos with the chipped paint, as if gathering up the last shred of his dignity.

He took one last look at the five large characters written on the blackboard, and then at the sparse number of students in the audience. In his eyes, there seemed to be reluctance and regret, but mostly a profound sorrow.

He bowed deeply toward the classroom. That stooped figure looked exceptionally small in the vast lecture hall.

"Class dismissed," he said softly.

Under the watchful eyes of Yu Xian and the remaining students, this old man—who had spent his entire life teaching and doing research—was surrounded by the security guards. With a hunched back, he walked out of the classroom step by step.

His receding figure disappeared at the end of the corridor, like the curtain falling on an era.