Who would study psychology unless they had some issues?!

When she got to this part, the senior sister’s expression turned wistful: "This was the first time I’ve ever seen a teacher who just stamps forms blow up like that..."

"She cursed out that student who came with the form for stamping so badly it was miserable, her voice could be heard all over the floor... that’s how the story spread."

"And it was from then on that our project approval process became a hassle, all kinds of stamping procedures suddenly multiplied..."

Nan Zhubin expressed his condolences to the project-group secretaries whose workload would surge, but in a sense it wasn’t all bad.

Then he, too, showed a pensive expression: "That teacher—the one who ran off to the Port District—what happened to his students after that? With all this commotion, didn’t they end up with no advisor?"

The gossip crowd turned admiring eyes toward Nan Zhubin’s underlying Humanist streak.

Another senior sister picked up the thread: "They definitely had to reassign advisors. The college can’t just ignore that kind of issue."

Someone nearby nodded in agreement: "Even though the college... usually isn’t very reliable, this has to do with graduation, and it’s their own mess, so they’ll definitely handle the students properly."

Their description of how things would unfold was very optimistic, in sharp contrast to Jie Nianzhou.

Nan Zhubin asked, "So in the end which professors took them in?"

The gossip crowd didn’t think there was anything off about Nan Zhubin pressing for details like this; they were even delighted he was asking so many questions.

Back when they first heard this bit of gossip, a few of them had also enjoyed digging this deep.

It was still that same senior sister who’d jumped in at the start.

Now she seemed to be edging toward the center of attention, her body unconsciously leaning toward Nan Zhubin, unfortunately blocked by the overly familiar senior brother.

"Back then all the information about their advisor changes was recorded by me!"

Feeling everyone’s eyes on her, she couldn’t help but lift her chin a little: "For the master’s students, because there were more of them, we scattered them. A few advisors, each group stuffed one in, just about managed to absorb them."

"For the doctoral students, there were fewer, so they were taken in by Teacher Bi, who does Developmental Psychology. She had just become a doctoral advisor, and happened to barely have anyone under her."

Hearing this answer, the master’s students in the break room couldn’t help but show envy on their faces.

"Teacher Bi? I’ve heard she’s really amazing, apparently she’s only in her thirties, that’s impressive!"

"Yeah, I heard she came back from overseas, became a doctoral advisor in her thirties!"

"Back then I wanted to join Teacher Bi’s project group too, but there were no slots..."

"Do we have any of Teacher Bi’s students in our cohort?"

Everyone glanced around, clearly extremely curious about this Teacher Bi’s project group. Unfortunately, none of the people present were her disciples.

"Being able to join Teacher Bi’s group kind of counts as a blessing in disguise, right? Young advisors are always the most proactive when reviewing projects, and it’s easier to get papers out."

"Yeah, I’m actually really interested in Teacher Bi’s research field too, and she’s really nice in class, speaks in a soft, gentle voice."

"Not just that, Teacher Bi is pretty trendy—she even runs an Official Account and gives guidance on choosing advisors for postgrad entrance, and she’s written several books!"

For a while, all that reached Nan Zhubin’s ears were words of praise.

Nan Zhubin couldn’t help raising an eyebrow. An advisor who publishes books, in her thirties—is she really that impressive?

He couldn’t help turning his gaze to the overly familiar senior brother.

"I know about this," the senior brother volunteered. "I wanted to join Teacher Bi’s group too. Because she’s the advisor with the widest information channels, and the resources she controls are extremely rich."

Nan Zhubin nodded thoughtfully: "What kinds of books has she written?"

"It’s a series of popular books," the senior brother reeled it off like a list: "Happy Master, Happy Doctor, Happy Academic."

Nan Zhubin blinked.

"Have you read them?" Nan Zhubin asked.

The senior brother shook his head.

It was still that same senior sister who spoke up: "I’ve read them, they’re really well written! Very funny and humorous!"

"It was after I read her books that I started thinking grad school might be fun... it’s a pity I couldn’t get into her group, Teacher Bi is really strict!"

The girls started chattering away.

From the sound of it, this Teacher Bi was really popular.

Nan Zhubin looked at the senior brother: "Have you ever chatted with students from Teacher Bi’s group? What’s life like for the students in her group day to day?"

That question actually stumped the senior brother.

"Hiss... thinking about it carefully, I really haven’t talked much with students from Teacher Bi’s group. I think she doesn’t take many students to begin with?"

All right, if he wanted to understand that part, he might have to ask someone else.

-----------------

"The college’s faculty? I’ve got them all mapped out."

Mo Kai stated it as a matter of course.

The light in the private room was a warm yellow, its beam caught by the bone china plates and turned into a gentle halo around the rims.

Mo Kai and Nan Zhubin were sitting on opposite sides of the dining table, in front of them steamed bass, blanched choy sum, braised sea cucumber with scallions, roast duck.

The aroma was almost visible as drifting smoke, but neither of them was paying any attention to the food.

After driving Nan Zhubin to work during the day, Mo Kai had also asked him out to dinner in the evening—he was way too curious about what Nan Zhubin’s day in the hospital had been like.

And Nan Zhubin happened to have something he wanted to ask Mo Kai, this native who’d been at Beidu Normal University since undergrad, so the two hit it off immediately.

With his own consulting assistant, confidentiality rules could be loosened a bit. After getting the rough outline of Jie Nianzhou’s situation, Mo Kai’s expression scrunched up.

"When I was picking an advisor through guaranteed admission, I basically had meals with senior students from every project group."

Mo Kai spoke as if it were obvious: "Grad school isn’t just doing research; your everyday life matters too. Some groups spend almost the entire year on research, and even if there’s no project going on, they still force you to sit at your workstation; some groups are complete free-range, and if you want to do a project you even have to go find funding yourself."

"There are even groups that look strong on paper, and attract those students who want to push themselves, who want to get a PhD. But it might be that the advisor only signs off on things and dumps all the work on the students—that happens too."

"You can’t get this stuff from the internet; nobody’s going to spell it out that bluntly, and even if they did, it wouldn’t necessarily get seen. If you choose wrong, your next three years are basically spent in a pit, so you have to sit down and talk in detail with seniors."

Nan Zhubin nodded in strong agreement.

Compared with the overly familiar senior brother and those master’s interns, Mo Kai’s understanding of each advisor was much more detailed and grounded in daily life.

"I know Teacher Bi. She’s pretty popular inside the college. She’s quite gentle in class, her lectures are lively, and she also does social media; you could say she’s the best at online social networking among all our faculty."

"Maybe because she’s young," Mo Kai said, "so it’s easy for her to blend in with the students, and she’s good at saying nice things."

Nan Zhubin nodded: "I heard she’s written three books?"

Mo Kai nodded: "Yeah, a trilogy."

"Have you read them?"

"Of course not, they’re not academic monographs." Mo Kai said it as if it were obvious. "And those three books—apparently the first drafts were all compiled by her students, and she just did the polishing."

"When I had dinner with a senior from her group, I roughly asked about them. They’re basically internet-style inspirational essays, with the occasional humorous bit, teaching people how to get through academic life ’without pain.’ If you really want to pin down the target audience—mainly people who aren’t actually in grad school, I’d say."

Mo Kai shrugged.

In Nan Zhubin’s mind, the image of Teacher Bi was gradually coming into focus.

Nan Zhubin nodded: "So what’s life really like in her project group? What did the senior you had dinner with say?"

Mo Kai paused, as if replaying that face in his mind.

"If I had to sum it up—"

Mo Kai smacked his lips: "Pain, it hurts so damn much."