My IQ has been increasing year by year.

Chapter 222 The Upcoming Interview

There were already more than a dozen sheets of draft paper on the table.

The top one is filled with a grid drawn with a black ballpoint pen, with the lines closely spaced and some nodes marked with heavy black dots.

Chen Zhuo twirled the pen in his hand, his gaze fixed on the upper left corner of the paper.

It's still about the boundary convergence problem of algebraic varieties.

In winter in Huizhou, the sky is always gray and the windows are tightly closed, but a faint chill still seeps through the edges of the glass.

There was a cup on the corner of the table; the water had stopped steaming.

Chen Zhuo put down his pen and paused for about half a minute.

Then I picked up the pen again and wrote a line of equations next to the black dot.

My pocket suddenly jolted.

Then came the Nokia ringtone.

The sound seemed somewhat abrupt in the quiet room.

Chen Zhuo put down his pen and reached for his phone.

A long string of numbers, preceded by an international dialing code, was flashing on the screen.

He pressed the answer button and held the phone to his ear.

"Feed".

There was a slight static sound on the other end of the phone; signals across the Pacific are always a bit unstable.

"Xiao Zhuo."

Pierre's voice came through, a little hoarse, along with the crisp sound of a glass hitting a saucer.

"Professor Pierre."

Chen Zhuo leaned back, shifting to a more comfortable position.

"It's snowing in Princeton."

Pierre said on the phone that he didn't exchange any pleasantries and went straight to the point.

"I re-engineered the discrete mesh model you sent me before last night."

Chen Zhuo didn't speak, but listened quietly.

"The grid itself is cleverly constructed, with no problems."

Pierre's voice, muffled by the electrical current, lacked subtlety and variation.

"However, problems arise when you apply this grid to high-dimensional algebraic varieties."

Pierre paused, seemingly flipping through the papers in his hand.

"At the border."

Pierre continued.

"Continuous mapping cannot be maintained; it tears near the singularity. I tried three smoothing methods, but none of them could make it converge."

Chen Zhuo looked at the draft paper on the table.

His gaze fell on the spot where he had just drawn a heavy black dot.

"It can't be contained."

Pierre drew his conclusion over there.

Chen Zhuo took the teacup and drank a sip of cold water.

"Professor Pierre."

Chen Zhuo spoke, his tone very calm.

Why should it be processed smoothly?

There was a two-second silence on the other end of the phone.

In topology, a continuous mapping is...

"No continuous mapping is required."

Chen Zhuo interrupted him, his voice not loud, but very clear.

He looked at the shredded grid lines on the paper.

"Let it tear if it's going to tear."

There was complete silence on the other end of the phone, except for the faint sound of breathing.

"Since it is going to break at the boundary, then don't try to forcibly repair its continuity."

Chen Zhuo tapped the table lightly with the cap of his pen.

"At the point of tearing, we directly abandon the geometrical mapping."

Chen Zhuo looked at the paper.

"Use algebraic invariants to force convergence directly at the boundary."

This is a very unreasonable solution.

It's like facing a tangled knot. The average person's idea is to untangle it little by little along the thread, but Chen Zhuo's suggestion is to cut off the knot with scissors and then forcibly twist both ends with wire.

Unreasonable.

But it works well.

There was a full half-minute of silence on the other end of the phone.

Then, Pierre's laughter came through the receiver.

First came a soft laugh, then the voice grew louder, carrying the helplessness of an elder watching a younger person act foolishly, yet having to admit the younger person was right.

Pierre stopped laughing.

"As expected of my student, good."

"I'll try it again following your approach."

Pierre said on the other end of the line.

"Waiting for your good news."

The phone hangs up.

Chen Zhuo tossed his phone back onto the table, picked up his pen again, and prepared to write down the ideas he had just shared with Pierre.

The doorknob clicked.

Li Jianming pushed open the door and walked in, holding two printed documents in his hand.

Li Jianming walked to the table and glanced at the densely packed draft papers on it and the Nokia phone lying next to it.

He didn't ask Chen Zhuo what he was calculating; he simply placed the document on the corner of the table.

"Did you just speak with Pierre on the phone?" Li Jianming asked.

"Um.

Chen Zhuo didn't even look up, his pen never stopping.

"He tried that grid, and it got stuck at the boundary."

Li Jianming nodded and pulled out a chair next to him to sit down.

"We can't hold out any longer with Principal Zhou."

Li Jianming looked at Chen Zhuo.

"The school has been under pressure for a month, and it has reached its limit."

Chen Zhuo put down his pen and turned his head.

"The people from CCTV-1 have arrived," Li Jianming said.

"I'll do an exclusive interview tomorrow afternoon."

The room fell silent.

Chen Zhuo glanced at the pen in his hand, then at the draft paper on the table.

There's still one node that hasn't been pushed to completion.

"Do you need me to prepare any manuscripts in advance?" Chen Zhuo asked.

"You don't need to carry anything," Li Jianming shook his head.

"Is there a question outline?"

"Yes, but I saw it."

Li Jianming spoke of it casually.

Chen Zhuo nodded.

"What about clothes? Formal attire or school uniform?"

"Just wear what you're wearing now."

Li Jianming pointed to Chen Zhuo's winter clothes.

"Tomorrow we're going to the old library. When we get there, if people ask you anything, just say what you think you can say. If you can't say something, Lao Fang and I will be there."

"it is good."

Chen Zhuo responded.

Li Jianming stood up and pushed the chair back to its original position.

"I won't keep you from doing your homework. I'll come to your dorm tomorrow at 2 PM."

"Take care, teacher."

The door closed.

Chen Zhuo turned his head, his gaze returning to the draft paper.

He stopped thinking about CCTV and how many people would be watching him tomorrow.

The pen tip landed on the paper, and I continued the derivation that had just been interrupted.

The streetlights on the USTC campus were dim at night, and the wind was stronger than in the afternoon.

Chen Zhuo wrapped his coat tighter around himself and pushed open the dormitory building door.

There was a smell in the hallway, a mixture of instant noodles and hot water.

When he reached the dormitory door, he took out his key and turned the lock.

The door was pushed open a crack, and sounds came from inside.

"Oh, you're back."

Chen Zhuo pushed open the door and went in.

Chu Ge was sitting on the table, holding a half-eaten apple in his hand, with one leg dangling in mid-air.

Wang Dayong stood by the sink washing his hands.

Chen Zhuo closed the door behind him and casually placed the books he had brought back on the table.

"CCTV-1."

Chu Ge took a bite of the apple and mumbled something indistinctly.

"Brother Zhuo, you're now completely famous. The whole country can see you."

Chen Zhuo ignored him, took off his thick coat, and hung it on the handle of the wardrobe.

"It's gone viral on the campus BBS."

Chu Ge jumped off the table and went over.

"I heard a big-name talk show host is coming this time, are you nervous?"

"good."

Chen Zhuo took a towel, preparing to wash his face.

Chu Ge turned around, holding a bottle of hairspray he didn't know where he got it from, and tossed it around in his hand.

"You're going to be on TV tomorrow. Look at your hair, how long has it been since you got a haircut?"

Chu Ge pointed to Chen Zhuo's forehead.

Chen Zhuo reached out and touched his hair; it was indeed a bit long.

"Hey bro, want to borrow some of this?"

Chu Ge handed over the hairspray.

"Tomorrow, when you're in front of the camera, get a slicked-back hairstyle with a side part. You can't lose in terms of presence. The reputation of our USTC Junior Class depends entirely on you."

Wang Dayong started making a fuss from the side.

"Yeah, get a slicked-back hairstyle, and lend me that suit. It's a little big, but at least it's formal wear."

Chen Zhuo draped the towel over the sink.

He looked at the hairspray in Chu Ge's hand, then at Wang Dayong.

He smiled.

"Professor Li said so."

Chen Zhuo turned on the tap, and the sound of running water filled the air.

"Just wear your usual clothes, no need to fuss over anything."

Chen Zhuo splashed hot water on his face, which made him feel much warmer.

He grabbed a towel, wiped the water droplets off, and turned to look at the two of them.

"Do you two have class tomorrow afternoon?" Chen Zhuo asked.

"I don't have any classes," Wang Dayong said.

"What, you want us to be your support group?"

Chen Zhuo hung up the towel.

"If you really want to be on TV."

Chen Zhuo walked to the table, pulled out a chair, and sat down.

He picked up the water glass from the table.

"I'll take a stroll outside the old library tomorrow afternoon."

Chen Zhuo looked at Chu Ge.

"Maybe the camera will pan over and show the back of your heads."

The dormitory was quiet for a moment.

"Depend on."

"Xiao Zhuo, you're going astray."

Chu Ge threw the hairspray back on the table and cursed with a laugh.

"I was even thinking of lending you my treasured equipment."

Chen Zhuo took a sip of water and opened the table.

"Thanks, but I don't need it."

"Hey, have you thought about what they'll ask you tomorrow?" Chu Ge asked.

"Answer whatever you are asked."

"What if they asked you if you have a girlfriend?"

"I'm only three months hungry."

Chen Zhuoyi turned a page.

"What's wrong with Ji San? With your IQ, you should find a partner early, otherwise the girls you like later will think you're too smart and put pressure on them."

Chu Ge said it in a very serious manner.

Wang Dayong burst out laughing.

Chen Zhuo finished what he was doing and looked up at Chu Ge.

"Chu Ge".

"what?"

"Have you finished the exercises in your advanced calculus textbook?"

Chu Ge's smile froze.

"without."

"Submit next Monday."

Chen Zhuo kindly reminded him.

Chu Ge let out a wail and turned to walk towards 216.

Wang Dayong shook his head and went to the balcony to collect the laundry.