My IQ has been increasing year by year.

Chapter 229 Gone

The television in the living room was on.

The volume was turned up two notches, and the evening news was playing on the screen. The announcer's voice seemed to echo faintly in the spacious room.

The coffee table was pushed aside, making room in the middle of the carpet.

Liu Xiuying squatted on the carpet, with a huge suitcase open in front of her.

There were six glass bottles at her feet.

They are the most common kind of canning jars. Some of them used to hold yellow peaches, and some used to hold candied oranges. Now the labels have all been torn off and the glass is sparkling clean.

The bottle was stuffed full.

Three bottles contained dark green pickled mustard greens, and the other three contained square-cut preserved mustard greens with braised pork belly.

Liu Xiuying reached for a plastic bag, pulled out a few thermal underwear pieces, spread them out, picked up a glass jar full of braised pork, placed it in the middle of the clothes, and then wrapped the jar tightly, layer by layer, like a bundle.

After wrapping one up, she forcefully stuffed it into the bottom of the suitcase, pressing it down with her hand to test its stability.

Chen Jianguo sat at one end of the sofa, holding a copy of today's Zeyang Evening News in his hand. He didn't turn the page for a long time. His gaze went over the edge of the newspaper and landed on Liu Xiuying's busy hands.

"Pour two fewer bottles."

Chen Jianguo brushed the cigarette ash off his trouser leg.

"He was traveling by train, carrying big bags and small bags, and if he accidentally broke something, the glass shards mixed with oil would ruin all the clothes in his bag."

Liu Xiuying didn't even look up.

"It won't break. I've padded it with clothes, and I've also stuffed newspapers into the gaps."

37

She picked up the second bottle and continued to wrap her thermal underwear around herself, her movements swift and efficient.

"The USTC cafeteria has everything, and he's not short of money, so why are you making such a heavy thing?"

Looking at the solid glass jars, Chen Jianguo couldn't help but offer another word of advice.

Liu Xiuying stopped what she was doing.

She turned her head and glanced at Chen Jianguo.

"Huizhou has it, but does America have it?"

Chen Jianguo was speechless after hearing this, and he raised the newspaper to cover his face again.

The bathroom door opened.

Chen Zhuo walked out, drying his hair. He was wearing pajamas and had a faint smell of soap on him.

He walked into the living room and glanced at the suitcase on the carpet.

The box, which was not very big to begin with, is now bulging with glass jars wrapped in thermal underwear.

Chen Zhuo draped a towel around his neck and squatted down next to Liu Xiuying.

He reached out and weighed the suitcase.

It's very heavy and feels heavy in your hand.

"mom."

Chen Zhuo's voice was gentle, but tinged with a hint of helplessness.

"The USTC cafeteria recently opened a new food stall, and the food is pretty good. Carrying so many glass bottles on the way here is really too heavy."

Liu Xiuying was holding the last piece of autumn clothing, wrapped around pickled mustard greens.

She didn't look at Chen Zhuo, only focusing on the work in her hands.

"If it's heavy, carry it. Don't boys even have that much strength?"

She shoved the last wrapped bottle into the gap in the suitcase, then grabbed both sides of the suitcase and squeezed it forcefully towards the middle.

The zipper was difficult to pull up, and Liu Xiuying slowly pulled it up little by little.

"This isn't just what you're eating now."

Liu Xiuying patted the suitcase that she had finally pulled up.

She stood up, wiped her hands on her apron, and looked down at her son squatting on the ground with a serious expression.

"This is an experiment."

Chen Zhuo looked up at her.

"You take him to Huizhou first. You know how crowded and bumpy the journey will be," Liu Xiuying said.

"When you get to school, open the bottle and check. If the glass isn't broken, the braised pork and pickled vegetables haven't spoiled after all these days..."

""

Liu Xiuying paused for a moment.

The only sound in the living room was the faint sound of the television.

"Mom heard from your sister Wang that you can check your luggage when you fly. When you go to the United States in the fall, Mom will pack and check your luggage according to today's standards, not a single bottle can be missing."

Chen Zhuo's hand, which was holding the towel, froze in mid-air.

He looked at his mother.

Liu Xiuying had a few faint gray hairs at her temples, and her finger joints were somewhat enlarged from years of housework. The edges of her nails were slightly red from pulling the zipper forcefully earlier.

She didn't understand what "across the ocean" meant, nor did she understand what customs consignment meant.

But she knew what her son liked to eat.

All the objective reasons Chen Zhuo had prepared in his mind regarding the excess baggage and the fact that he could buy anything at Chinese supermarkets vanished in an instant.

He put down the towel and gently ran his fingers across the surface of the suitcase.

"it is good."

Chen Zhuo stood up, his tone calm and reassuring.

"When I got to my dorm, I opened it to check if it was broken, and then I called home."

Liu Xiuying's tense face finally relaxed, revealing a satisfied smile.

"Alright, hurry back inside and dry your hair. Don't catch a cold in the middle of winter. Your train is at seven tomorrow morning, so don't oversleep."

Chen Zhuo nodded, bent down to pick up the heavy suitcase, and turned back to his room.

Chen Jianguo sat on the sofa, watched his son's back as he closed the bedroom door.

He put down the newspaper and sighed.

"You old woman, you're always worrying about nothing."

Liu Xiuying rolled her eyes at him and bent down to pick up the scraps of newspaper from the carpet.

"I'm worried about my son, what's it to you?"

Chen Jianguo didn't refute, but silently picked up the newspaper on the table.

Late at night.

The wind outside has stopped, and the neighborhood is quiet. Occasionally, you can hear the sound of cars driving over manhole covers on the road in the distance.

The lamp in Chen Zhuo's room was on.

He placed the clothes he would wear tomorrow on the bedside table, pulled out a chair, and sat down at his desk.

The desktop was clean, with nothing on it except for a few pens.

Very light footsteps came from outside the door.

Then, there was a light knock on the door twice.

"Go in," Chen Zhuo said.

The doorknob turned, and Zhang Qiang pushed the door open and walked in.

My hair was unusually neatly combed, not like a bird's nest as usual.

He walked in and closed the door behind him.

The room was very quiet.

Unlike before, Zhang Qiang didn't bark and pounce on Chen Zhuo's bed as soon as he entered the room.

He walked to the desk and stopped.

He was holding a few sheets of paper in his hand.

Zhang Qiang placed the papers on Chen Zhuo's desk very gently, even cautiously.

That was the "Special Breakthrough in Mechanics and Force Analysis" document that Chen Zhuo had left for him a few days ago.

The once flat A4 paper is now covered in wrinkles.

The edges were curled up, and in some places, the paper had become very thin from being repeatedly erased with an eraser, even allowing light to shine through.

The surface was covered with dense black carbon pen writing.

"The problems you assigned me."

Zhang Qiang stood by the table, his hands in his coat pockets.

"I've finished everything."

Chen Zhuo turned around and looked at Zhang Qiang, who was standing to the side.

Zhang Qiang's eyes were unusually bloodshot, and his eye circles were a bit dark.

Chen Zhuo didn't speak, his gaze returning to the exam paper on the table.

He reached out and took it, turning to the first page.

The handwriting was as scrawled as ever, but next to the shapes of sliders, ramps, and springs, every arrow representing force was drawn meticulously.

The red pen marks the force, the blue pen marks the friction, and the lines drawn with the ruler are all straight.

Chen Zhuo turned the pages one by one.

The only sound in the room was the rustling of papers turning over.

Zhang Qiang stood there, his eyes fixed on Chen Zhuo's profile. His Adam's apple bobbed, as if he wanted to say something, but in the end he kept his mouth shut.

He checked it three times himself.

For each problem, he re-analyzed the direction on the draft paper.

He knew he was stupid, and he also knew that Chen Zhuo was trying to help him by giving him these questions.

Chen Zhuo turned to the last page.

There are 30 questions, and the last one is the most complex inclined plane multi-slider linkage model.

The force analysis lines on the diagram are drawn like a spider web, but the direction of each line and the formulation of each equilibrium equation are all very orderly.

Chen Zhuo closed the paper and tapped it neatly on the table.

He looked up at Zhang Qiang.

Zhang Qiang was a little nervous, and his hands, which were in his pockets, unconsciously clenched into fists.

"Is there anything wrong with it?"

Zhang Qiang asked, his voice dry and hoarse.

Chen Zhuo leaned back in his chair.

Unlike before, he didn't nitpick at him or try to scare him with some electrical engineering "gift package".

Chen Zhuo's lips slowly curved upwards, revealing a very light and gentle smile.

"no."

Chen Zhuo looked at him and gave the most stable conclusion.

"None of the frictional forces were reversed."

Zhang Qiang's tense shoulders instantly relaxed, and he let out a long breath.

"It was done very well."

Chen Zhuo pushed the exam paper back to him.

"If we keep this line of thinking, there shouldn't be any problems with the high school section of the No. 1 Middle School."

Zhang Qiang's tense shoulders visibly relaxed. He let out a long breath, reached out and grabbed the few crumpled papers, rolling them haphazardly into a paper tube.

"I'm exhausted."

Zhang Qiang pulled over a chair next to the desk, plopped down, and yawned twice.

"I've been dreaming about drawing dotted lines and arrows every night for the past two nights. If I don't finish, I'm going to have a nervous breakdown."

Chen Zhuo picked up his water glass, took a sip of warm water, and looked at his childhood friend's relieved expression.

Zhang Qiang leaned back in his chair and tapped his thigh with the rolled-up test paper. The tension of handing in his homework vanished, and his usual carefree and nonchalant attitude returned to his face.

"Hey, since you've said that the No. 1 Middle School is fine, shouldn't we start settling our accounts in advance?"

Chen Zhuo put down his water glass.

"What bill?"

"Playing dumb, huh?"

Zhang Hai glared and pointed the paper tube at Chen Zhuo.

"Ballton! The real Kobe Ballton! When you go to the US, you better remember, don't think that because you're far away from the capital, I won't be able to urge you."

As Zhang Hai finished speaking, he raised his eyebrows, looking smug and confident.

"If you dare to forget, when you have summer vacation, for Zeyang, I and Yu will come to your house and knock on your door to freeload a meal, and we'll eat you out of house and home."

Looking at Zhang Hai's shameless behavior, a smile slowly crept onto Chen Zhuo's lips.

He leaned back in his chair, crossed his arms, and began to speak slowly and deliberately.

"I won't forget it. I'll ask around for you when I get there."

Just as Zhang Hai was about to grin, Chen Zhuo's next words floated over.

"However, the premise remains the same: look at your high school entrance exam admission notice. If you just missed getting into the top high school in the city..."

'

Chen Zhuo's smile remained gentle, but there was a hint of mischief in his eyes.

"I'll send you a copy of the all-English physics workbook for high school students from the US every month. Uncle Zhang will be very happy to have you sign for it."

Zhang Qiang's grin froze instantly.

He gasped, staring at Chen Zhuo as if he were a monster, and muttered something under his breath.

"You're ruthless. Even capitalists aren't as heartless as you."

Zhang Qiang stood up, stuffed the rolled-up exam paper into his coat pocket, and then opened his mouth to let out a big yawn, tears welling up in his eyes.

"I'm not going to keep talking nonsense with you, I'm so sleepy, I need to get back to sleep."

He turned and walked towards the door.

Reaching the doorway, Zhang Hai opened it, stepped out with one foot, then stopped and looked back at Chen Zhuo.

"Your train leaves at 7 a.m. tomorrow, right?"

"Um.

""

"Then I won't see you off."

Zhang Hai scratched his messy hair.

"Dad, I can't get up at seven o'clock no matter what. Be careful on your way to school, and don't forget to call me when you get there."

"Okay, go to sleep now."

Chen Zhuo nodded.

"I'm gone."

Zhang Hai waved his hand, stepped out the door, and closed it behind him.

The room fell silent.

Chen Zhuo turned his gaze to the pen on the table and tossed it into the pen holder.

His gaze fell on the clean tabletop, and Chen Zhuo's eyes gradually calmed down.

Zeyang's winter vacation is over.

Mingyu, it's time to go to Huizhou again, to get into those complicated topological networks and formulas.

He reached out and turned off the table lamp.

The second and early morning.

It was still dark in Zeyang City, and the air was filled with a biting, dry chill.

On the table were a few fried dough sticks, two bowls of steaming porridge, and a small dish of leftover pickled mustard greens from last night.

Chen Jianguo was drinking porridge when Liu Gongying brought out a plate of freshly boiled eggs from the kitchen.

Chen Zhuo took a bite of the oily porridge and picked up the bowl, just about to drink it.

My phone vibrated in my pocket.

Immediately afterwards, Nokia's ringtone sounded in the restaurant.

Chen Zhuo put down his chopsticks and took out his phone.

A string of numbers lit up on the screen.

It's the area code for Huizhou, and the landline number for Li Jianming's office.

The call came early this morning.

Chen Zhuo pressed the answer button and held the phone to his ear.

"Feed".

There was no immediate response from the other end of the phone.

Chen Zhuo could even hear the background noise of an empty room coming from the receiver, as well as the sound of papers being turned over.

About four or five seconds passed.

Li Jianming's voice came through.

Old Li's voice was much softer than usual, lacking the usual booming voice that used to shout at him to do his work.

It conveyed a sense of exhaustion from staying up half the night, along with a complex emotion that was hard to describe, as if one were seeing something unbelievable.

"Have you had enough of staying home?"

Old Li asked.

"That's enough," Chen Zhuo said.

"The household and the car in the morning."

There was another pause on the other end of the phone.

Chen Zhuo didn't urge him. He quietly held his phone, listening to Lao Li's somewhat heavy breathing.

At this moment, in Li Jianming's office.

The light from the incandescent bulb shone on the desk piled with books and drafts, and the air was filled with the mixed smell of paper and tea.

Li Jianming sat in that somewhat old leather chair.

There were a dozen or so pages of paper on his left.

The edges of the paper were stained with the distinctive black ink of a fax machine, and were densely covered with French text and various complex topological symbols.

That message came from the fax machine at the Institute for Advanced Study in Princeton late last night, having traveled halfway around the world.

To his right were several sheets of draft paper.

The paper was slightly yellowed, and the handwriting on it was neat and gentle. It was the part of the draft about discrete grids that Chen Zhuo had deduced before leaving for winter vacation.

Ji Jianming's gaze moved back and forth between the two piles of paper.

He looked at the French formulas on the fax paper, which abruptly severed the continuity, and then at the illogical Chinese derivations on the draft paper.

Old Li closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and let out a very soft sigh.

"Pierre's fax arrived last night."

Old Li spoke into the microphone.

"Um."

Chen Zhuo responded.

"He has completed the framework of the topology."

Old Li's voice echoed in the quiet basement, carrying a hint of unbelievable absurdity.

"They used... the old method from his 1999 paper."

Old Li opened his eyes and gently stroked the signature of Pierre on the fax paper.

"Xiao Zhuo."

Old Li's voice was very low.

"That kind of brute-force truncation of continuity...that kind of thinking that completely disregards everything and directly operates on the topological space."

"If it weren't written in French, if your handwriting weren't different..."

'

Old Li paused for a long time.

"I really think that his dozen or so faxes and these drafts you left on my desk before you left were written by the same person."

It covers half the globe.

They're almost fifty years apart.

A tyrant who has spent most of his life on the throne of Princeton looking down on the mathematics world, and a boy eating pickled mustard greens and porridge in a small town in China.

At that moment, their brainwaves overlapped perfectly.

Chen Zhuo listened to Old Li's trembling voice on the other end of the phone.

He wasn't surprised.

He glanced at the dish of pickled vegetables on the table and picked up a piece with his chopsticks.

"Pierre has pushed topology into a dead end."

Old Li's tone gradually returned to normal, but his speaking speed was a little slower than usual.

"He used that set of discretization tools to tear the net apart, leaving an algebraic singularity there."

Old Li turned the fax paper to the last page.

There was only one extremely complex algebraic equation on it, with an arrow drawn next to it.

There were no additional comments.

"The rest is your job," Old Li said.

Work handover.

This is the handover of work between two of the world's top mathematical geniuses.

There were no pleasantries, no probing questions.

You pave the road, I'll cross the bridge.

"Understood, Teacher Li."

He picked up the bowl in front of him, finished the last mouthful of porridge, and put the bowl down.

"My car is going to Huizhou this afternoon, and I'll go to the office to check faxes in the evening," Chen Zhuo said.

"Okay, I'll wait for you."

Old Li hung up the phone.

Chen Zhuo put his phone in his pocket.

He stood up and walked to the corner of the living room.

There was the suitcase that Liu Shangying had stuffed tightly in last night.

Chen Zhu bent down, grabbed the handle of the suitcase with one hand, and lifted it up forcefully.

It is indeed very heavy.

Chen Jianguo had already put on his coat, was twirling the Santana car keys in his hand, and was standing at the door changing his shoes.

"Finished eating? Let's go."

Chen Jianguo opened the security door.

The cold air from the hallway outside rushed in instantly.

Liu Shangying ran out of the kitchen, holding a plastic bag containing two freshly peeled hard-boiled eggs.

"Take this with you for the journey. The thermos contains hot water, so don't drink cold water."

Liu Gongying stuffed the plastic bag into Chen Zhuo's hand and straightened his coat collar.

"understood."

Chen Zhuo took the plastic bag.

He carried the suitcase that carried the weight of a transoceanic experiment and walked outside.

The door to Zhang Hai's house was tightly closed, and there was no sound at all.

Zhang Hai stayed up all night last night, and is probably fast asleep right now.

He looked over at his mother standing in the entryway and his father, who was already waiting for him at the elevator.

"mom."

Chen Zhuo called out softly.

"I'm leaving."

"Go ahead, call me when you get to school."

Liu Gongying waved her hand.

Chen Zhuo nodded and turned to walk towards the elevator.

The security door closed gently behind me with a click.

The suitcase swayed gently beside his legs with each step he took.

Winter break is over.

The outside light had fully illuminated the day, and the morning in Zeyang still carried a biting chill, but on the rooftops in the distance, traces of melting snow could already be seen.