Chapter 187: Funding Tilted Against Miriam

Prof. Miriam Caldwell had just received the notice from the finance department. This year's graduate research funding allocation was finalized. Prof. Lenora Voss's team took seventy percent, leaving the remaining thirty to be divided among other research groups.

She quickly calculated. After deducting equipment maintenance and basic expenses, less than twenty percent would actually be available for experiments.

Five years without significant publications. Their funding shrank annually. Students left one by one, leaving only a few familiar faces still holding on.

The lab lights cast shadows on Miriam's exhausted face. She massaged her temples.

"Professor Caldwell, what a coincidence."

Lenora approached in clicking heels, waving the newly approved funding application.

"I heard your team is replicating decade-old experiments? Funding that tight?" She feigned surprise, eyebrows arched.

Miriam silently organized her files.

"Some research should've been retired years ago." Lenora shook her documents. "Unlike us—we just secured another national key project."

"Research isn't about who has more money." Miriam finally spoke. "Ten years ago, we achieved double the results with one-tenth your budget."

Lenora's smile faltered. "Ancient history. Today's game is output efficiency. Dragging things out harms both the department and students."

"Every student I mentor gains real expertise." Miriam met her gaze calmly. "Unlike some who treat them as cheap labor."

"You—!" Lenora's face darkened. "Just wait until next semester's review. Let's see if your lab survives!"

Miriam shook her head slightly and walked away. Some would never understand—true scholarship couldn't be bought with funding.

* * *

April sunlight streamed through the window onto the desk.

Clara Whitmore closed her laptop and stretched. The graduate admission letter hung on her wall, but she couldn't relax yet.

Library. Apartment. Grocery store. Her routine was simple yet fulfilling. Occasionally cooking a proper meal became her greatest pleasure.

Once, she invited Elias Mercer to try a new recipe when he stopped by for clothes. But he only took two hurried bites before rushing back to the lab.

These days were uncomplicated yet grounding. No more cooking anxiously for someone else's approval. No more waiting with bated breath. Daily video calls with her parents in the neighboring city became her new ritual.

On screen, Daniel Whitmore proudly displayed freshly picked tomatoes: "See? Organic!"

"Your father's turned into a full-time retiree farmer." Helen didn't look up from her sketchpad. "Yesterday he wanted chickens."

"Reconnecting with nature!" Daniel's voice carried from the yard.

Helen was drafting new work, though her publisher had rejected another proposal. Hearing her mother secretly rereading early novels at night made Clara's heart ache.

Ending the call, Clara watched the sunset. Life brought losses and gains. What mattered was—she'd finally rediscovered herself.