My IQ has been increasing year by year.

Chapter 211 Next Year

A red Xiali car shuttles through the streets of Huizhou.

Li Jianming leaned back in his seat, looking out the window.

In 2004, Huizhou had not yet been completely swallowed up by reinforced concrete.

The utility poles along the roadside rushed past.

One, one.

Like rows of silent musical notes.

My phone vibrated in my pocket; the Nokia's signature vibration sent a tingling sensation through my thigh.

It was Zhou Qiping calling.

Li Jianming pressed the answer button.

"Old Li, have you gone back to school yet?"

Principal Zhou's voice was very polite, but Li Jianming could sense an underlying tension in it.

Like a fully drawn bowstring.

"Just got off the train, in a taxi."

"That's perfect, come straight to my office."

Principal Zhou spoke a few seconds faster.

"Professor Pierre from Princeton is here."

"He's been waiting for you for quite a while."

Li Jianming was looking at his phone.

What was bound to happen has finally happened.

The Xiali car was parked in front of the USTC administration building.

Li Jianming pushed open the car door, threw down a twenty-yuan note, and turned to leave without waiting for the driver to give him change.

The corridor in the administration building was quiet, and the motion-activated lights were not yet on.

The door to the vice principal's office was ajar, letting in a cold, white light.

Li Jianming stopped at the door.

He straightened the collar of his suit jacket.

Calm your breathing.

Push the door open.

The room smelled of tea.

It's the best Taiping Houkui tea.

Zhou Qiping sat on a single sofa, holding a purple clay teapot.

Opposite him sat an elderly foreign man in a light gray jacket, with gray hair but a very straight back.

Hearing the door open, the two turned around.

Li Jianming's gaze, however, did not fall on them.

He looked past the coffee table and stared at the whiteboard against the wall.

That's the whiteboard used for administrative meetings; it's usually used to record enrollment expansion plans or infrastructure budgets.

just now.

It was covered with black marker writing.

It was a dense array of formulas, like a jungle.

There are two types of handwriting.

A sense of vigor and discipline.

That belongs to Pierre.

Another style is more casual, with many cursive strokes.

It exudes an air of arrogance and disdain for everything.

That belongs to Chen Zhuo.

Li Jianming slowly walked over.

He stood in front of the whiteboard, the floor beneath his feet creaking slightly.

Dimensional reduction.

Homomorphism.

Singularity convergence.

Li Jianming's heart was pounding.

This was the dead end he had been trying to figure out in his office for the past two weeks.

The problem of boundary divergence in continuous topological spaces.

He once thought it was a wall of human thought.

But at this moment.

The wall collapsed.

It wasn't toppled, but rather perfectly stitched together by a higher-dimensional logic.

It did not bypass the obstacle.

It forcefully carved out a path.

A bloody path leading to the wasteland of truth, a path never before seen by anyone.

"Old Li."

Zhou Qiping put down his teacup, stood up, and spoke with a kind of bewildered excitement.

Li Jianming did not turn around.

He stared at the last solid cube, and the equals sign and zero that followed it.

"Did he fix it himself?"

Li Jianming spoke.

The voice was soft, hoarse from the long journey.

"I gave him a low-level mapping tool."

Pierre spoke up.

The English had a slight French accent.

The speech was not fast, but every word sounded like a judgment.

He walked the rest of the way by himself.

"It only took a few minutes."

Li Jianming turned around.

He met Pierre face to face for the first time.

It lacks the imposing, aloof quality often found in academic journal photographs.

The old man in front of me looked like an old traveler who had been traveling for a long time.

But those blue eyes were so bright that it was impossible to look directly at them.

"Old Li, have a seat."

Zhou Qiping pointed to the empty seat next to him.

Li Jianming sat down, placing his briefcase beside him.

It contained the few manuscripts he had prepared beforehand.

Now, those things seem as heavy as waste paper.

"Professor Pierre has been talking to me for more than half an hour."

"9

Zhou Qiping looked at Li Jianming.

"About Chen Zhuo."

Li Jianming picked up a cup of warm tea from the table.

He drank it all in one gulp.

The bitterness of the tea explodes on the tip of the tongue.

"You want to take him with you."

He looked directly at Pierre.

"Yes."

Pierre nodded, making no attempt to hide his agreement.

"To Princeton?"

"Come to my place."

Pierre emphasized the words "there".

He stood up and slowly paced around the office.

"At Princeton, he didn't need to go through any of the regular doctoral selection process."

"He will have absolute academic immunity."

"He doesn't need to be a junior teaching assistant for any professor."

"There's no need to wash test tubes in the lab for that damn research subsidy."

"There's no need to curry favor with those bureaucratic old men just to get a degree."

Pierre stopped and turned to look at Li Jianming.

"I will apply for a dedicated seat at the Institute for Advanced Study for him directly."

"An independent laboratory."

"Access to the research institute's computing resources at any time."

"All he had to do was sit behind that table."

"Keep writing those formulas that would amaze even God."

Zhou Qiping's breathing became heavier.

That was in 2004.

A thirteen-year-old boy from China.

Such treatment is simply unbelievable.

"Li, I know what you're worried about."

Pierre leaned forward slightly.

An oppressive atmosphere instantly filled the air.

"In your country, the internet speed is as slow as a snail."

"If you want to see last month's 'Annals of Mathematics,' you'll have to wait until the cruise ship crosses the Pacific."

"But I can make a promise."

"I will connect him to the IAS private terminal."

"He can see the data we ran in Princeton last night, anywhere, in the early morning."

"He will have the world's top information synchronization rate."

Li Jianming looked down at the cup.

He knew it, better than anyone else.

In this era when the internet had not yet reached every corner of the world.

Knowledge is subject to delays.

"And the economy."

Pierre reached out and pointed out the window.

"A detached house with a garden in the Princeton family quarters."

"If his parents are willing to accompany him, his visa and living expenses will be fully covered by my special fund."

"I will provide him with an aristocratic academic stipend."

"He will never have to worry about making a living again."

The office was quiet.

Only the crisp sound of Zhou Qiping's purple clay cup lid tapping against the rim of the cup.

This is not a privilege.

This is treating a child as a spark of human civilization, nurturing and protecting them.

Li Jianming remained silent.

He stared at the formula on the whiteboard, then glanced at Pierre.

"Professor Pierre."

Li Jianming spoke.

"I don't doubt your sincerity, but I have a question."

"Please speak."

"Why is it Chen Zhuo, instead of Cheng Pi, the Princeton genius?"

Pierre remained silent for a moment.

He turned around and looked at the twilight of the surgical garden through the floor-to-ceiling windows.

The setting sun was sinking below the horizon, casting long shadows across the vast blue earth.

"I've been Princetonized for thirty years."

"I've seen countless monsters whose eyes are blinded by ambition."

"They are indeed very perceptive, handling logic like a harvester."

"But they were too hasty."

"They did the math problems for that gold medal, for a year's worth of front-page coverage in The New York Times, and to outdo their competitors."

Pierre turned his head.

His eyes were extremely complex.

It was a serene, awe-inspiring tranquility that followed the discovery of an unparalleled treasure.

"But in Lan Chenzhuo, I saw a kind of extremely dignified logical intuition that is almost extinct in this era."

"He's not in a hurry."

"When Taran derived that most difficult convergence point, his hand was steady."

"The breathing is even."

"He wasn't doing a test."

"Tharan speaks with the truth."

"He's only thirteen years old," Li Jianming said.

"Gauss 19th pais gave the proof of the quadratic reciprocity law, and Galois 20th pais wrote group theory."

Pierre stared at him.

"Mathematics doesn't consider age."

"He discovered that the intuition in Lan's mind is the most precious treasure of mankind."

"To allow him to continue staying here in Lanzhou and studying those outdated textbooks is a crime against mathematics."

He is not a tool.

Li Jianming looked at him.

"He is a living, breathing person."

"Therefore, he needs to go to a place where people can understand him."

Pierre did not back down.

"Li, you are a good scholar."

"You were able to recognize the value of that tattered manuscript, which proves that your judgment is sound."

"But you can't teach him anymore."

"You've seen the formula on the whiteboard, you understand it."

Li Jianming leaned back on the blue sofa.

He looked at the ceiling, which was yellowish-white ash.

He really can't teach anymore.

He could understand the derivation on the whiteboard.

But if you ask him to write it, he can't.

That's not a matter of accumulation.

That's a difference in dimensions.

It is the distance between an ordinary person and a genius.

But he was not reconciled.

It's not for fame.

It's not about grabbing a genius to represent the company.

He was afraid.

"Professor Pierre."

Li Jianming sat up straight and placed his hands on his knees.

His expression was unusually serious, with the air of a protector.

"I know quite a bit about the academic politics at Princeton."

"The area is riddled with hills and rife with partisan infighting; it's far more brutal than outsiders imagine."

You are sixty-five years old this year.

"If Chen Zhuoxianlan goes with you, he will be directly labeled as a member of Pierre's faction."

"What if... I mean, what if."

"Something's wrong with your health, or your rivals at the Lan Research Institute are starting to make trouble."

"How could that child, only thirteen years old and speaking softly, possibly face those monsters who devour people without spitting out the bones?"

Li Jianming's gaze was like a knife fixed on Pierre.

"Here in Talan, I can do whatever I want every day."

"He was able to buy his favorite fermented soybean paste from the little restaurant near the entrance of Lan's house."

"If he gets tired, he can sit in the Lan Lao Library for an afternoon and watch the falling leaves."

"If all you give him is math and pressure."

"He will wither."

"If you can't protect his life outside of the truth."

"I cannot release them."

Pierre was stunned.

He didn't expect it.

This Chinese professor, who looked timid and wore an inexpensive suit.

At this moment, Lan displayed an almost roaring aggressiveness.

"plum."

Pierre shifted his posture, and his voice suddenly lowered.

I'm sixty-five years old.

Li Jianming was stunned for a moment.

"I have no shortage of papers or reputation. I'm not here to find a laborer for the research institute."

Pierre paused, emphasizing each word he spoke.

"I will never take on another apprentice in this lifetime. Chen Zhuo will be my last student."

"The last, the only one."

clack.

Zhou Qiping's hand trembled slightly, and a few drops of tea spilled from the purple clay cup, landing on the back of his hand.

He didn't wipe it.

The last disciple.

This is more than just an identity.

This is Pierre's way of giving all his academic legacy, status, and resources to this young man.

Li Jianming's fingers suddenly tightened on Lan's knee.

His original defenses were too weak, including training programs and administrative procedures.

The words "disciple of Lan Guanmen" are as thin as a sheet of paper in comparison.

This portion is too heavy.

This is not just a study abroad spot; it is the direct inheritance of almost half of an academic empire.

As long as Chen Zhuo nods, he can immediately stand at the very top of the world of mathematics.

No need to wait in line or accumulate seniority.

Pierre overturned the table.

A leading scholar staked his academic career on it.

What else can Li Jianming say?

Why stop Chen Zhuo from inheriting the throne?

"Professor Li."

Duan Qiping spoke up at the opportune moment.

"We have all seen Professor Pierre's sincerity. This is a great thing for Chen Zhuo and USTC. The joint training program is also something we have always advocated."

Li Jianming didn't look at Duan Qiping.

He stood up, walked to the water dispenser, and filled a cup halfway with hot water.

He walked back and placed the paper cup in front of Lampier.

Li Jianming sat down and threw out his last chip.

"The closed-door disciple... has a great reputation, but he is now too pure, so pure that he is almost fragile."

Li Jianming stared at Pierre.

"If he goes with you now, he'll only be your appendage. That's not fair to his future."

He looked at his father, Duan Qiping, and then at his father, Pierre.

"Let him finish his junior year here next year, and then he'll be a senior next fall."

"Take him away."

Pierre's brows furrowed.

"Li, Lan is wasting his prime years!"

"It's not a waste."

A hint of stubbornness flashed in Li Jianming's eyes.

"This year is the warm-up period."

"I want him to publish two papers in top-tier journals in Lanzhou, either as an independent author or as a co-author with whom you have equal standing, which is enough to prove himself."

"I want him to establish an unshakeable position in the international academic community."

"I want him to leave next year not as a child who has been taken away."

"Instead, I went to Princeton as an invited scholar."

"This extra year has been a year for reflection and consolidation within the country."

"Only in this way will no one dare to treat him as your appendage after he leaves."

Pierre stared at Li Jianming.

"What if I don't agree?"

"Then you should go and persuade him."

Li Jianming leaned back on the blue sofa, looking very relaxed.

"Chen Zhuo is a sentimental kid."

"Guess what would happen if you insisted on forcibly dragging him away?"

He will go with you.

"Or will you politely refuse me outright to avoid putting me, your teacher, in a difficult position?"

Pierre didn't answer; he was weighing his options.

"One year."

Pierre finally admitted it.

His tone carried a weariness born of compromise.

He looked at Li Jianming.

"Li, you're even more sensitive than his own father."

Li Jianming paused for a moment, then reached for the teacup on the table, but his hand trembled violently.

"I don't have a slight itch."

He stared at the cup of cold, leftover tea, his voice hoarse.

"I'm scared."

"I'm afraid the child will fly too high and no one will be able to catch him."

"He is my best student."

Li Jianming's voice trembled slightly.

The corridor of the administration building.

Li Jianming walked very slowly.

The leather shoes echoed hollowly as they stepped onto the blue floor.

He felt tired.

It wasn't the fatigue from staying up all night, but a kind of exhaustion after being tense.

He walked out of the administration building.

The sun has already set, leaving only a faint orange glow on the horizon.

The evening breeze grew cooler, and the streetlights lit up one by one, casting a dim yellow light on the trees along the roadside.

At the bottom of the steps stood a person wearing an ordinary coat and carrying a backpack.

It is Chen Zhuo.

He was carrying a paper bag.

Seeing Li Jianming come out, he walked over.

Li Jianming stood still in the same spot.

He looked at the approaching boy, his mind a jumble, unsure whether to talk about Pierre first or about going to America in his senior year.

Chen Zhuo walked up to him.

"Teacher Li."

The sound was very steady.

He handed over the paper bag he was holding.

"The barbecue place behind Ganglan is at the perfect temperature right now. You just got back, so you probably haven't had a chance to eat yet."

Li Jianming subconsciously took the paper bag.

He could feel the temperature of the roasted sweet potato through the brown paper.

very warm.

What are you doing here?

"I just came out of Duan Yachang's office not long ago, and I saw you come back."

Chen Zhuo spoke naturally.

"I'll wait here at Lan's for a while."

Li Jianming glanced down at the paper bag.

"Did you see that old foreign man at the library?"

His voice sounded a little dry.

"We met and exchanged a few words about formulas."

Chen Zhuo nodded.

"His name is Pierre."

Li Jianming stared into his eyes.

"Princeton, Fields Medal winner."

"Yes, I guessed it."

Chen Zhuo didn't have any particular reaction.

"The mapping tool he gave me is very powerful; it's not something an ordinary person could write."

Li Jianming took a deep breath.

He said he would no longer accept apprentices.

"You will be his last student."

Chen Zhuo listened quietly.

"Duan Ya has grown up."

Li Jianming looked at the streetlights in the distance.

"I agree."

Chen Zhuo remained silent.

"But I didn't let you leave now."

Li Jianming continued, as if explaining.

"I told them, 'You're only thirteen, I'm worried about you.'"

"I've fought for you for a year."

"You'll be a senior next fall, then you can go to Princeton."

He stared at Chen Zhuo's face, trying to find a hint of surprise, regret, or complaint.

But Chen Zhuo remained calm, his expression showing little change.

"it is good."

Chen Zhuo nodded.

Just one word.

Li Jianming was stunned.

"Aren't you going to ask why?"

"That's Princeton, Pierre's last student."

"You don't need to spend so much time on those endless basic courses back in Lanzhou."

"You can leave now, why wait a year?"

"Don't you feel like you're losing out?"

Chen Zhuo smiled and pulled up the shoulder straps of his backpack.

"It's a good deal."

He looked at Li Jianming, his tone gentle.

"Going early doesn't necessarily mean you'll walk fast."

"Besides, Zhang Qiang is taking the high school entrance exam next year."

"I just helped him get his thinking straight in physics, but now that Lan's gone, he's probably going to fail his exam again."

Li Jianming found it unbelievable.

The invitation from Princeton.

The mantle of a mathematical giant.

In Lan's eyes.

It's surprising that I actually put tutoring my childhood friend in physics on the same scale.

"Moreover, my decision to stay at Lanzhou University of Science and Technology is not solely for Zhang Qiang's sake."

Chen Zhuo continued.

Li Jianming looked at him.

"I hope to attend your lectures again this year."

Chen Zhuo said with a smile.

Li Jianming's hand holding the paper bag trembled slightly.

He looked at the boy.

His eyes were clear, without a trace of worldliness, nor the arrogant arrogance often found in geniuses.

Li Jianming suddenly felt a sour taste in his words.

They argued for so long in Talan's office.

They argued for that one-year deadline.

He was afraid that Chen Zhuo would blame him for meddling.

He was afraid Chen Zhuo would think he was blocking the way.

But now, Lan.

Chen Zhuo used only one sentence.

That put an end to all his concerns.

"Alright, Beilan is trying to sweet-talk me."

Li Jianming cleared his throat as if to cover up his embarrassment.

Switch the paper bag to your other hand.

"Principal Zhou just agreed."

"This year, you're exempt from all the normal-speed exams."

"You have the freedom to manage your time."

"That's good."

Chen Zhuo nodded.

"It saves us the trouble of taking those exams."

Don't be too happy yet.

"6

Li Jianming put on a stern face.

"I still need to read the books."

"You need to be clear about the direction Pierre gave you. Don't just focus on tutoring others and neglect your own business."

"I know."

Chen Zhuo responded.

The two walked slowly along the road, their shadows stretched long by the streetlights.

"Which store bought these sweet potatoes from behind Lanhou Gate?"

Li Jianming took a bite and asked casually.

"Old Li's place, he controlled the heat quite well today."

"It's a little too sweet."

"Then next time I'll have him pick one that's not so sweet."

"9

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