My IQ has been increasing year by year.

Chapter 298 - A Report

David stood by the elevator, glanced at his watch, removed his finger from the open button, and casually pressed the button for the first floor.

Inside the elevator, Sam leaned most of his weight on the handrail, one hand pressed tightly against his lower back, and his mouth twitched every time the elevator swayed downwards.

"David, if your suit was just ironed and picked up from a high-end dry cleaner, I suggest you stay away from me. I'm staring at you, and even the reflection in your tie makes me dizzy. Plus, I'm starving. If I don't get some high-calorie meat to eat, I might chew up your leather seat cushion tonight."

David glanced at him in the elevator mirror and straightened his neatly tied tie.

"Forget about the leather seats, but the steak sandwich my assistant ordered this evening is still warm in the car, enough to keep you occupied. Allen, aren't you going to fix your buttons?"

Allen stood in the corner with his head down, his eyes somewhat glazed over.

Upon hearing David's words, he looked down somewhat bewildered, only then realizing that the top button and the bottom button of his shirt were completely twisted out of place.

He sighed, placed his fingers on his shirt, and slowly unbuttoned the wrongly buttoned buttons one by one.

His fingers were still a little stiff from holding the chalk for too long last night. He started from the bottom one, realigned it, and slowly and deliberately picked up the chalk one by one.

"I must have received a divine revelation at that time."

Allen fastened the last button on his collar, his voice dry and flat.

"When I erased that line of graviton parameters last night, I even felt it was a divine revelation. Now that I think about it, if it weren't for Chen's line..."

Chen Zhuo stood at the front. He moved his right leg, and his knee was still a little sore. He frowned slightly, then relaxed his grip and reached into his pocket.

The Montblanc pen that Su Wei had given him two months ago was now lying quietly in his pocket.

Ding.

The elevator came to a stop on the first floor, and the elevator doors slid open to both sides.

David casually tossed the slightly deformed empty paper cup of his iced Americano into the trash can next to the elevator. The cup flew in an arc and landed precisely in the trash can.

"Let's go, the car's outside, it's making more noise than you think."

David led three people, with his height of 1.85 meters walking at the front.

The lobby was lit with dim, yellowish lights.

Outside the floor-to-ceiling windows, the city lights were already twinkling in the evening.

The heavy rain that had been falling all day in early autumn had just stopped, and the air was filled with the damp, cold smell of earth.

The streets along the Charles River were glistening with a layer of water, and the taillights of passing cars intertwined with the streetlights, casting long, dark red streaks of reflection on the road.

Four people walked side by side across the lobby on the marble floor.

The previously noisy sofa area suddenly fell eerily silent the moment the four people's footsteps sounded.

Several physics PhD students wearing Harvard badge hoodies were huddled together, whispering about the details of the Poincaré conjecture presentation earlier that day, when their voices were abruptly cut off by an invisible pair of scissors.

They were still holding several blurry photos that they had just torn from the fax machine during the day, with the outlines of the Chow group and the boundary constant C clearly visible.

The haughtiness of the ivy dissipated completely in the lobby.

Those young scholars who usually looked at people with their chins slightly raised were now sitting motionless on the sofa, their eyes fixed on Chen Zhuo, who was walking in the middle, like nails.

Fourteen years old, of Chinese descent, from the Chow group.

These three keywords, which had been repeatedly examined throughout the day at Harvard and MIT, now transformed into a chilling sense of dread and scrutiny.

Chen Zhuo seemed oblivious to the stares, and even turned around and smiled gently at the Harvard volunteer who was in a daze as he passed the reception desk.

David's expression turned cold. He took a half-step forward and used his shoulder to block the gazes coming from the side.

Pushing open the door of the guesthouse, a cold wind mixed with rain rushed towards me.

Chen Zhuo shrank his neck, reached out and grabbed the zipper, pulling it up tightly to the very top of his throat.

He sniffed, then casually pulled his hat up and covered his head, hiding his slightly unruly hair.

David pressed the car key in the darkness.

On the designated parking space, the headlights of a brand-new black Cadillac swayed, and a layer of fine water droplets clung to the glossy black paint.

Sam yanked open the car door, his 200-plus-pound weight slamming straight into the leather passenger seat, causing the entire car to sag.

"Oh God, that feels so much better."

Sam tightened the seatbelt around his stomach.

Chen Zhuo and Alan sat in the back row.

The moment the car door closed, the sounds of the cold, damp wind and rain outside were immediately shut out.

The car's constant-temperature air conditioning started blowing hot air out, which felt hot on my face and gradually dispersed the layer of moisture that had just covered the car windows.

David pulled out two thick packages, tightly wrapped in aluminum foil and still noticeably warm, from the insulated box in the middle and tossed them behind him.

"My assistant made the reservation at that restaurant at the intersection this evening. It's still hot. Sam, if you dare to smear oil stains on my leather cushion, I'll have you blow all the computer case fans in the MIT lab clean with your mouth tomorrow."

Sam tore open the aluminum foil, revealing a thick-cut steak still steaming hot. He opened his mouth wide and took a big bite, hissing as he was burned, but still grunted contentedly.

Allen took the other one, pinched off a small piece of bread with his fingertips and put it in his mouth, then handed a cup of coffee to Chen Zhuo.

The car started.

David skillfully steered the Cadillac into the night, smoothly driving along the road by the Charles River.

Chen Zhuo held a hot paper cup, sipped his coffee slowly, and watched the shadow of a red oak tree flash by outside the window. The shadow was refracted under the neon lights and appeared as a dark mass.

"David, what's the situation outside?"

Chen Zhuo's voice was somewhat gentle, and it sounded very soft amidst the low hum of the engine.

David stared at the road ahead, his right hand resting on the gearshift.

"It's crazy outside. At 8:30 in the morning, that old man Smith, without even tying his tie properly, slammed the fax from last night's blackboard onto Professor Pierre's coffee table. Several professors at Harvard and MIT, who were leading groups during the day, didn't even attend the Poincaré lecture; they were locked in their offices working on calculations all day."

David glanced at Chen Zhuo in the rearview mirror.

"They stared at the algebraic truncation and Chow group in the photo for three hours before they could believe that you had used the tools of the Hodge conjecture as axioms to smash the boundaries of physics in the bar last night. Now, half of the mathematicians from various countries who were originally gathered at Harvard to listen to Zhu Xiping and his team's report are asking which room you are staying in."

Sam swallowed the steak sandwich in his mouth and grabbed a tissue to wipe the grease from his mouth.

"David, did you give them directions?"

"Do you think I'm bored?"

David gave a cold laugh.

"I had my assistant turn off my phone. Several administrative calls from Harvard and Princeton filled my voicemail inbox during the day."

"Chen, your teacher Pierre stayed in his apartment upstairs all day today and didn't go anywhere. Smith was dismissed by him in two minutes after he delivered the documents this morning."

The only sound in the carriage for a moment was Sam chewing.

Allen sat in the back seat, his hand resting on the red manuscript in his pocket.

Although he had already closed the loop of the dimensional reduction logic of the eleventh chapter of the eleven-dimensional string membrane with Chen Zhuo in the tavern last night, his palms still couldn't help but sweat when he heard the vibrations that had been fermenting outside all day.

He glanced at Chen Zhuo beside him.

Chen Zhuo tilted his head, carefully rewrapped the remaining half of the steak sandwich in aluminum foil, and casually placed it on the small compartment in the car door.

Just like the tsunami that struck outside during the day because of his name, it had nothing to do with him.

David stepped on the brakes, and the car gradually slowed down, finally coming to a steady stop in front of a somewhat classical-looking red brick apartment building.

A huge red oak tree grows next to the side entrance of the building. Its broad leaves rustle against the windows in the cold night wind.

David unbuckled his seatbelt and turned to look at the back seat.

"Chen, Professor Pierre has been waiting for you to wake up. Go upstairs and talk to him first."

Chen Zhuo nodded and reached out to open one of the car doors.

"Okay, Allen, you and Sam go with David first. I'll explain the math part to the teacher and then I'll talk to you guys."

Allen put down the cup and looked at him.

"The foundation is in your hands, Chen. Sam and I won't sleep tonight; we'll finish the outline. We'll wait for you to bring the blueprints."

Chen Zhuo smiled at them, opened the car door, and stepped out.