"The Royal Swedish Academy of Sciences announced on the 2nd that this year's Nobel Prize in Physics has been awarded to Chinese scientist Chen Mo, in recognition of his extraordinary contributions to geomagnetic and spatial microphysics detection."
Chen Mo had won the Nobel Prize in Physics, and the news set the world abuzz.
Among the Nobel Prizes, the Physics award is the most prestigious. It holds the highest status among all recognitions in the field.
Since the release of the seismograph, there had been loud calls for Chen Mo to be awarded the Nobel Prize. But until now, there had been no official word. Today, the news finally came—and it was as expected.
In the past, some Chinese had won the Nobel Prize in Physics, but none of them were pure Huaxia nationals—some weren't even Chinese citizens.
Chen Mo was the first scientist born and raised in China to win it.
His integration of geomagnetic anomaly fluctuation detection with space physics monitoring created the seismograph—an instrument capable of earthquake warning. It was a technology that benefited all humanity.
Chen Mo's Nobel Prize was both deserved and long-awaited.
For countless Chinese people, this award was a psychological milestone. Now, Chen Mo had finally broken through that barrier and pushed open the door.
He had founded the March Ant Company, and although he had never previously received any international awards, his authority in fields like computing, materials, and optics was widely recognized.
Now, with the Nobel Prize under his belt, he had become a living legend in the eyes of the public.
"Congratulations on winning the Nobel Prize," Zhao Min said through a holographic projection in the lab. Liu Mei stood nearby, smiling—clearly in high spirits.
"Thank you," Chen Mo nodded calmly.
"Why do you still look so indifferent?"
Zhao Min felt slightly offended by his reaction. Chen Mo always maintained that calm, composed demeanor. Despite being younger than her, he seemed more self-possessed than anyone she knew.
"This is the highest award in scientific research. Shouldn't you be thrilled?" she asked.
"It's fine," Chen Mo said casually. "When the 'Chen Mo Award' becomes the highest honor in the global tech world, that will be worth celebrating."
...Huh?
Zhao Min touched her forehead helplessly. This guy was really playing it cool.
He was probably the first Nobel Prize winner to openly say he wanted to replace the Nobel with a 'Chen Mo Award.' You had to admit—he had ambition.
"Your arrogance knows no bounds. If you said that out loud in public, someone might actually beat you up."
"I'm just joking. Don't be so serious." Chen Mo smiled faintly. "It's just an award. It doesn't really change anything for me. I don't need titles to feel accomplished."
"Alright, alright—keep your normal heart," Zhao Min sighed.
To most scientists, the Nobel podium was a lifelong dream. But for Chen Mo, it was just another day. How many people could truly remain this calm?
"Come to think of it, I've never heard of you winning any other international awards," she said, curious.
"That's because I never submitted any research papers. I didn't attend international academic conferences either. All of my work was done in-house, developed directly for the company."
Chen Mo chuckled.
"When I was studying the seismograph, I wrote a feasibility paper on earthquake detection on a whim. It got mocked worldwide. Xiao Yu was furious at the time. Ironically, that little paper ended up winning me a Nobel Prize. Funny, isn't it?"
Most of his research—aside from what Mo Nu developed—was based on technology sourced from the Technology Library.
The tech inside the Library was too advanced. Some of it bordered on science fiction, so Chen Mo had stopped publishing anything externally. It was better to avoid accidental leaks.
Besides, he didn't need accolades or funding. He rarely published anything.
"If I wanted to chase awards," he added, "I'd just finish building [Star Ring] now. The technology in that project could win every Nobel Prize for the next five years."
"You really dare to say that, huh?" Zhao Min smiled, shaking her head—but she couldn't argue.
If anyone else had said that, she'd think they were delusional. But coming from Chen Mo, it was hard to refute.
Zhao Min knew that the [Star Ring] required constant-temperature superconducting materials and divertor-filtered liquid metal—both Nobel-worthy advancements. And there were likely more breakthroughs she wasn't even aware of.
For Chen Mo, winning a Nobel Prize didn't seem all that difficult.
"Oh, one more thing. Binhai University sent an invitation. They hope you'll give a lecture and inspire your juniors and professors."
"This Saturday afternoon should be fine." Chen Mo thought for a moment and nodded. "It'll be nice to visit."
"Great, I'll let them know. I'll leave you to it."
The call ended, and Chen Mo turned his attention to the Star Lab. Right now, his greatest dream was to complete [Star Ring], so he could begin controlled light nuclear fusion research.
As he arrived, the team—including Wan Yuanqi—congratulated him one after another. Everyone looked excited and respectful.
Chen Mo had won the Nobel Prize in the most prestigious scientific field—Physics. He was younger than most of them but had achieved what many could only dream of in a lifetime.
They were all postdocs, considered top minds among their peers. But compared to Chen Mo, they felt like ordinary people.
There was no shame in the comparison—it was both a privilege and a burden to live in the same era as a legend.
"Thank you, everyone," Chen Mo said. "Let's put the award aside for now. Our top priority is building the [Star Ring] as soon as possible. That's what really matters."
"Got it!" everyone responded enthusiastically.
In front of them stood the semi-finished [Star Ring] device. That was their mission now. The Nobel Prize was just a title. Chen Mo would officially receive it in two months—but that time could be used to make real progress.
"Next, we'll be installing the divertor," Chen Mo said. "Follow the steps shown in the holographic guide. Be especially careful during installation—this part is crucial."
The researchers quickly returned to their work, fully immersed in the construction of [Star Ring].
"Academician Chen," Wan Yuanqi said, rubbing his hands and putting on his best pleading face. "About the conductor material inside the 'Star Column'—could I just get a quick peek?"
"Not yet," Chen Mo replied with a shake of his head.
"Come on, just a little clue? What's so special about it?"
Wan Yuanqi was clearly dying of curiosity. As a lead on the project, it bugged him endlessly that Chen Mo kept it so tightly under wraps.
Still, he wasn't above using a little shamelessness to try and get an answer. After all, much of China's advanced technology had come from stubborn old pioneers—and he was just following tradition.
"You'll know in due time," Chen Mo said, smiling faintly. "Be patient. How's your progress on the theoretical work?"
"Not bad. With our experience in high-temperature plasma research, adapting to the new theory wasn't too hard. We've learned a lot already—just need more hands-on testing."
"Good," Chen Mo said with satisfaction.
They didn't plan on bringing in outside nuclear fusion experts just yet. The technology was too sensitive. For now, everything had to be handled internally—with trusted people like Wan Yuanqi leading the way.