All the people in the tour group were busy taking photos. But Sophia didn't take out her phone or join in any of the group photos. She just quietly looked at the furnishings and information boards around.
Albert walked over to her, "Don't you like taking photos?"
"No, not really," Sophia said.
"Me neither."
The memory of the other Sophia struck him. He remembered that she didn't like to be in pictures, either. When they had tried to look for a picture of her for the centerpiece at her funeral, they could only find one Kevin had taken on his phone at her birthday when he had insisted she let him.
"By the way, I've meant to ask, what do you do?" Sophia was curious.
She wanted to know what Pearson would do now. He was no longer her assistant.
She had sensed that this young man was far too talented to be her assistant. She had even offered to help him get better jobs, but he had always turned down her help.
"I have a small business," Pearson said.
"Clothes?" Sophia asked.
Pearson smiled, "How do you know?"
"Well, I've seen your clothes. You're not particularly showy in the things you wear or particularly tied to one brand. But you knew that little detail of the Pearson Group's clothing. So, I thought you might be in the clothing business." Sophia said.
Pearson had a sly look in his eyes, "You're right. I'm in the clothing business."
He had no intention of revealing his identity, and since she had said it, he just agreed with her.
It was not the first time Pearson had been mistaken for someone else. He had accepted it then just as he did today.
***
Two years ago, he had been instructed to go to the Glinton University Institute to meet a professor named Sophia Green. Sophia was leading a new energy project. His father wanted him to talk to Sophia about making an investment.
In return for funding this project, Sophia would then sell the patent to Pearson once she had made a success of it.
It was undoubtedly a win-win cooperation project. Pearson had been sure it would not be difficult to get her agreement. It was a straightforward matter.
Pearson went early that day. It was not that he wanted to go early, but he couldn't sleep at night. Despite the sleeping pills he had taken, he had still woken early.
He had a secret: he had depression.
To the world, the young master of the Pearson family had both money and status. He didn't lack for anything, and so they assumed he must be very happy every day. It would surely be impossible for him to have anything to do with "depression."
But what no one knew was that Pearson's huge wealth brought him no happiness but an untold amount of endless pressure.
Pearson had been brought up to believe in perfection. He must deserve to be the heir of the Pearson family!
Thus, he had been studying hard and being strict with himself ever since childhood. He had not had a day of freedom, not a day of happiness.
As an adult, Pearson found it hard to be truly content. No matter what people, what things, it was difficult to get close to him or make him happy. Everything he wanted in the world was easy to get. He could gain no sense of accomplishment.
It was getting harder and harder for Pearson to fall asleep, and he was always restless. Eventually, he went to the doctor and was diagnosed with depression.
Pearson had smiled bitterly at the result: if the news had ever come out, he could just imagine the headlines. The prince of the richest family suffered from depression. Are you kidding me?
With dark rings under his eyes and a suit bought from the street, Pearson entered the laboratory.
The lab was quite early in the morning. Pearson saw a thin girl sitting in a wheelchair at the table, facing him quietly and beautifully.
She held a test tube in her hand and was watching it intently.
Hearing someone come in, the girl didn't look up. She just said, "Bring me the hydrochloric acid. Thank you!"
Pearson wondered who she was talking to. There was no one else in the room, was she speaking to him?
Pearson stepped forward, found the hydrochloric acid she wanted, and put it in her hand.
The girl squeezed up a drop of hydrochloric acid with the burette tube, diluted it, and dropped it into a tube. She observed it quietly for a while and sighed. Then she picked up the pen on the table and wrote on a piece of paper, "1367."
Pearson looked at the number and asked curiously, "What's this?"
"That means I've failed 1367 times. But it also means that I've got 1367 wrong methods, and so now I'm a step closer to success, right? "The girl laughed.
She looked up at Pearson, "Hello. I'm Sophia, and I'm in charge here. You must be the new assistant. Very good! What's your name?"
Her smile was as warm as the sun.
Pearson was stunned. Assistant? Knowing that she had mistaken him for someone else, he tried to explain, "I'm Albert Pearson. I…"
But Sophia had already started asking him to do things before he had finished talking, "Let's try sulfuric acid! It might work! Pearson…May I call you Pearson? Look for sulfuric acid!"
Pearson gave up his explanation and went to look for sulfuric acid for her immediately.
Pearson was instructed by Sophia to do things in the lab all morning. Towards noon, a boy of about fourteen or fifteen came in with a lunch box in his hand.
"Let's have lunch, sister!" Kevin walked into the office and saw a man there, "Who's this?"
"Oh, he's my assistant. You can call him Pearson. Let's eat together, Pearson! My brother is very good at cooking!"
Kevin smiled and said, "Yeah, can't deny it.. I'm pretty good! I knew my sister had applied to the principal of an assistant, but I didn't expect you to come so soon! Luckily, I brought a lot of food today. There's plenty for all of us!"