PROLOGUE(序言，開(kāi)場(chǎng)白)

a bit(一點(diǎn)）on the fence(報(bào)觀望態(tài)度）about this whole?grad(畢業(yè)生，研究生）school thing.

Not because she didn’t like science.(She did. She loved science. Science was her thing.) And not because of the truckload(一貨車(chē)的容量）of obvious red flags. She was well aware that committing to（投入，致力于）?years of unappreciated（無(wú)人賞識(shí)的，不被重視的），underpaid（所得報(bào)酬過(guò)低的）， eight-hour workweeks might not be good for her mental health. That night spent?toiling(長(zhǎng)時(shí)間或辛苦地工作） away in front of a Bunsen burner to discover（揭開(kāi)，揭發(fā)） a trivial（瑣碎的，無(wú)價(jià)值的） slice of knowledge might not be the key to happiness. That devoting her mind and body to academic pursuits(追求） with only infrequent（稀少的） breaks to steal（竊取） unattended bagels（硬面包圈） might not be a wise choice.

She was well aware，and yet none of it worried her. Or maybe it did，a tiny bit，but she could deal. It was something else that held her back from surrendering(投降，屈服） herself to the most notorious（臭名昭著的） and soul-sucking（吸食靈魂） circle of hell(i.e.，a Ph.D.program博士學(xué)位). Held her back，that is，until she was invited to interview for a spot in Stanford’s biology department，and came across The Guy.

The Guy whose name she never really got.

The Guy she met after stumbling(絆腳，踉蹌） blindly into the first bathroom she could find.

The Guy who asked her，“out of curiosity，is there a specific(明確的，獨(dú)特的）reason you’re crying in my restroom?”

Olive squeaked(短促地尖叫）. She tried to open her eyes through the tears and only barely managed to. Her entire field of view was blurry（模糊的）. All she could saw was a watery outline-someone tall，dark haired，dressed in black...yeah. That was it.

“I...is this the ladies’ restroom?”She stammered(結(jié)結(jié)巴巴地說(shuō)）.

A pause. Silence. And then:“Nope.”His voice was deep. So deep. Really deep. Dreamy(不切實(shí)際的) deep.

“Are you sure?”

“Yes.”

“Really？”

“Fairly， since this is my lab’s bathroom.”

Well. He had her there. “I’m so sorry. Do you need to...”She gestured（打手勢(shì)） toward the stall(小隔間），or where she thought the stalls were. Her eyes stung(刺痛），even closed，and she had to scrunch（擠壓，扭曲） them shut（關(guān)閉，合上） to dull（減輕，緩解） the burn. She tried to dry her cheeks with her sleeve(袖子），but the material of her wrap dress was cheap and flimsy（薄的，易損壞的）， not half as absorbent（能吸收的） as real cotton. Ah，the joys of being impoverished（貧窮的）.

“I just need to pour this reagent(反應(yīng)物，試劑） down the drain（下水道，排水管），”he said，but she didn’t hear him move. Maybe because she was blocking（堵塞，擋?。?the sink. Or maybe because he thought Olive was a weirdo（奇怪的人） and was contemplating（深思，細(xì)想） siccing the campus police on her. That would put a brutally（殘忍地，狠狠地） quick end to her Ph.D. dreams，wouldn’t it? “We don’t use this as a restroom，just to dispose（處理） of waste and wash equipment.”

“Oh，sorry，I thought...”P(pán)oorly. She’d thought poorly，as was her habit and curse（咒語(yǔ)，詛咒）.

“Are you okay? ”He must be very tall. His voice sounded like it came from ten feet above her.

“Sure. Why do you ask? ”

“Because you are crying. In my bathroom.”

“Oh，I’m not crying. Well，I sort of（有點(diǎn)） am，but it’s just tears，you know?”

“I do not.”

She signed，slumping（倚，靠） against the tiled wall（花磚墻）.“It’s my contacts（隱形眼鏡）. They expired some time ago，and they were never that great to begin with. They messed up my eyes. I’ve taken them off，but...”She shrugged（聳肩）. Hopefully in his direction. “It takes a while，before they got better.”

“You put in expired contacts?”He sounded personally offended(冒犯，不快）.

“Just a little expired.”

“What’s ‘a(chǎn) little’? ”

“I don’t know. A few years?”

“What?”His consonants(輔音） were sharp and precise（清晰的）. Crisp. Pleasant.

“Only just a couple. I think.”

“Just a couple of years?”

“It’s okay. Expiration dates are for the weak.”

A sharp sound-some kind of snort(用鼻子哼).“Expiration dates are so I don’t find you weeping（哭泣，落淚） in the corner of my bathroom.”

Unless this dude was Mr. Stanford himself，he really needed to stop calling this his bathroom.

“It’s fine.” She waved a hand. She’d have rolled her eyes，if they hadn’t been on fire. “The burning usually lasts only a few minutes.”

“You mean you’ve done this before?”

She frowned. “Done what?”

“Put in expired contacts.”

“Of course. Contacts are not cheap.”

“Neither are eyes.”

Humph. Good point. “Hey，have we met? Maybe last night，at the recruitment（招聘） dinner with prospective（未來(lái)的，預(yù)期的） Ph.D. students?”

“No.”

“You weren’t there?”

“Not really my scene.”

“But the free food?”

“Not worth the small talk.”

Maybe he was on a diet， because what kind of Ph.D. student said that? And Olive was sure that he was a Ph.D. student—the haughty（目中無(wú)人的）， condescending（傲慢的） tone was a dead giveaway. All Ph.D. students were like that: thinking they were better than everyone else just because they had the dubious（可疑的）privilege（特權(quán)，榮幸）of slaughtering（屠宰）fruit flies in the name of science for ninety cents an hour. In the grim（嚴(yán)厲的，陰冷的），dark hellscape（地獄般的地方）of academia（學(xué)術(shù)界），graduate students were the lowliest of creatures and therefore had to convince themselves that they were the best. Olive was no clinical（臨床的） psychologist（心理學(xué)家），but it seemed like a pretty textbook defense（防御）mechanism（機(jī)制）.

“Are you interviewing for a spot in the program?” he asked.

“Yup. For next year’s biology cohort（有共同特點(diǎn)（通常指年齡）的一群人）.” God， her eyes were burning. “What about you?” she asked， pressing her palms（手掌，手心） into them.

“Me?”

“How long have you been here?”

“Here?” A pause. “Six years. Give or take（或多或少，左右）.”

“Oh. Are you graduating soon，then?”

“I . . .”

She picked up on his hesitation and instantly（立即，馬上） felt guilty（內(nèi)疚的）.

“Wait，you don’t have to tell me. First rule of grad school— don’t ask about other grads’ dissertation（學(xué)位論文） timeline.”

A beat. And then another. “Right.”

“Sorry.” She wished she could see him. Social interactions were hard enough to begin with; the last thing（最不想要的事物） she needed was fewer cues to go by. “I didn’t mean to channel your parents at Thanksgiving.”

He laughed softly. “You could never.”

“Oh.” She smiled. “Annoying parents?”

“And even worse Thanksgivings.”

“That’s what you Americans get for leaving the?Commonwealth（英聯(lián)邦）.” She held out her hand in what she hoped was his general direction. “I’m Olive，by the way. Like the tree.” She was starting to wonder whether she’d just introduced herself to the drain disposal when she heard him step closer. The hand that closed around hers was dry，and warm，and so large it could have enveloped（包圍，包住，籠罩） her whole fist. Everything about him must be huge. Height，fingers，voice.

It was not entirely unpleasant.

“You’re not American?” he asked.

“Canadian. Listen，if you happen to talk with anyone who’s on the admissions committee（招生委員會(huì)），would you mind not mentioning my contacts mishap（災(zāi)禍；不幸事故）? It might make me seem like a less-than stellar（一流的） applicant（申請(qǐng)人）.”

“You think so?” he deadpanned（面無(wú)表情地表達(dá)、表演或行動(dòng)）.

She would have glared（瞪眼，怒視） at him if she could. Though maybe she was doing a decent（得體的，體面的） job of it anyway，because he laughed— just a huff，but Olive could tell. And she kind of（稍微，有點(diǎn)兒) liked it.

He let go of her，and she realized that she’d been gripping（緊握，抓牢） his hand. Oops.

“Are you planning to enroll?” he asked.

She shrugged（聳肩）. “I might not get an offer.” But she and the professor she’d interviewed with，Dr. Aslan，had really hit it off（合得來(lái)）. Olive had stuttered（結(jié)結(jié)巴巴地說(shuō)） and mumbled（咕噥） much less than usual.

Plus，her GRE scores and GPA were almost perfect. Not having a life came in handy， sometimes.

“Are you planning to enroll if you get an offer，then?”

She’d be stupid not to. This was Stanford，after all—one of the best biology programs. Or at least，that was what Olive had been telling herself to cover the petrifying（石化） truth.

Which was that，frankly，she was a bit on the fence about this whole grad school thing.

“I . . . maybe. I must say，the line between excellent career choice and critical life screwup（低級(jí)錯(cuò)誤） is getting a bit blurry.”

“Seems like you’re leaning toward screwup.” He sounded like he was smiling.

“No. Well . . . I just . . .”

“You just?”

She bit（咬） her lip. “What if I’m not good enough?” she blurted out（脫口而出），and why，God，why was she baring（露出，揭開(kāi)） the deepest fears of her secret little heart to this random bathroom guy? And what was the point，anyway? Every time she aired out her doubts to friends and acquaintances，they all automatically offered the same trite（老生常談的），meaningless encouragements. You’ll be fine. You can do it. I believe in you. This guy was surely going to do the same.

Coming up.

Any moment now.

Any second—

“Why do you want to do it?”Uh? “Do . . . what?”

“Get a Ph.D. What’s your reason?”

Olive cleared her throat. “I’ve always had an inquisitive（好奇的，好問(wèn)的）mind，and graduate school is the ideal environment to foster（培養(yǎng)，促進(jìn)）that. It’ll give me important transferable（可遷移的）skills—”

He snorted.

She frowned. “What?”

“Not the line you found in an interview prep book. Why do you want a Ph.D.?”

“It’s true，” she insisted，a bit weakly. “I want to sharpen my research abilities—”

“Is it because you don’t know what else to do?”

“No.”

“Because you didn’t get an industry position?”

“No—I didn’t even apply for industry.”

“Ah.” He moved，a large，blurry（臟污的）figure stepping next to her to pour something down the sink. Olive could smell a whiff（難聞的氣味） of eugenol（丁香酚），and laundry detergent（洗滌劑），and clean，male skin. An oddly nice combination.

“I need more freedom than industry can offer.”

“You won’t have much freedom in academia.” His voice was closer，like he hadn’t stepped back yet. “You’ll have to fund your work through ludicrously（荒唐地） competitive（有競(jìng)爭(zhēng)力的） research grants（基金）. You’d make better money in a nine-to-five job that actually allows you to entertain the concept（概念，觀念） of weekends.”

Olive scowled（怒視）. “Are you trying to get me to decline my offer? Is this some kind of anti–expired-contacts-wearers campaign?”

“Nah.”She could hear his smile.

“I’ll go ahead and trust that it was just a misstep（過(guò)失，失策）.”

“I wear them all the time，and they almost never—”

“In a long line of missteps，clearly.” He sighed. “Here’s the deal: I have no idea if you’re good enough，but that’s not what you should be asking yourself. Academia’s a lot of bucks for very little bang. What matters is whether your reason to be in academia is good enough. So，why the Ph.D.，Olive?”

She thought about it，and thought，and thought even more. And then she spoke carefully. “I have a question. A specific research question. Something that I want to find out.” There. Done. This was the answer. “Something I’m afraid no one else

will discover if I don’t.”

“A question?”

She felt the air shift and realized that he was now leaning against the sink.

“Yes.” Her mouth felt dry. “Something that’s important to me. And—I don’t trust anyone else to do it. Because they haven’t so far. Because . . .” Because something bad happened. Because I want to do my part so that it won’t happen again.

Heavy thoughts to have in the presence of a stranger，in the darkness of her closed eyelids. So she cracked them open; her vision was still blurry，but the burning was mostly gone. The Guy was looking at her. Fuzzy（不清楚的，模糊的） around the edge，perhaps，but so very there，waiting patiently for her to continue.

“It’s important to me，” she repeated. “The research that I want to do.” Olive was twenty-three and alone in the world. She didn’t want weekends，or a decent salary. She wanted to go back in time. She wanted to be less lonely. But since that

was impossible，she’d settle for fixing what she could. He nodded but said nothing as he straightened and took a few steps toward the door. Clearly leaving.

“Is mine a good enough reason to go to grad school?” she called after him，hating how eager（熱切地） for approval(贊成，認(rèn)可） she sounded. It was possible that she was in the midst of some sort of existential crisis.

He paused and looked back at her. “It’s the best one.”

He was smiling，she thought. Or something like it.

“Good luck on your interview，Olive.”

“Thanks.”

He was almost out the door already.

“Maybe I’ll see you next year，” she babbled（含糊不清地說(shuō)），flushing（臉紅） a little. “If I get in. And if you haven’t graduated.”

“Maybe，” she heard him say.

With that，The Guy was gone. And Olive never got his name. But a few weeks later，when the Stanford biology department extended her an offer，she accepted it. Without hesitating.