My IQ has been increasing year by year.

Chapter 299 Arrangement

Chen Zhuo pushed open the door.

The sound of wind and rain outside suddenly subsided, leaving only the windows vibrating slightly in the cold autumn wind.

He walked up the stairs slowly and deliberately, his steps light on the steps.

His right knee was still a little sore, so he tilted his head and rubbed it.

Reaching the door, Chen Zhuo took his right hand out of his pocket and knocked twice on the door, neither too fast nor too slow.

Boom, boom.

"Enter."

Chen Zhuo pushed open the door and went in.

Pierre was leaning back on the sofa, still wearing that gray knit sweater.

He wore reading glasses on the bridge of his nose, and on the coffee table in front of him were the fax papers that Smith had brought during the day. Because they were printed in black and white, the chalk marks on them had all turned into noise of varying shades.

Hearing the door open, Pierre took off his reading glasses and threw them on the coffee table, then turned to look at the boy who had entered.

Chen Zhuo took off his hat, revealing his short hair that was a little messy and sticking up because he had slept for more than ten hours.

He walked over and naturally sat down in the armchair opposite Pierre, placing his hands flat on his knees.

Pierre glanced at his messy short hair, then at the slightly wrinkled gray sweatshirt he was wearing.

"Smith came to me this morning with his tie undone and said that last night some Chinese guy in a bar zeroed out his graviton tensor as if it were trash."

Pierre pulled a cigarette case from his pocket, took out a cigarette, twirled it between his fingers, but didn't light it, just looked at Chen Zhuo:

"I told him that the kid is having the deepest dream in America right now in the guesthouse, and nobody should disturb him. What, you've been lying in the guesthouse for fourteen hours, are you also preparing to develop in the direction of that guy in St. Petersburg? You're not even going to comb your hair."

Chen Zhuo laughed, the slight redness in his eyes from just waking up hadn't completely faded, and his laugh looked quite harmless.

"St. Petersburg is too cold, teacher, that's why I came to find you as soon as I woke up."

Pierre casually tossed the cigarette back onto the coffee table, leaned back against the sofa, looked Chen Zhuo up and down, then suddenly laughed and shook his head.

"Cyril had just changed into his new suit at Princeton this morning when he saw the fax Smith sent him. His hand slipped, and he spilled a whole cup of hot coffee all over the sleeve of his new suit."

Chen Zhuo turned to look at the swaying shadows of the trees outside the window, walked to the coffee table, picked up the kettle, poured a little less than half a cup of slightly cooled water into an empty cup, and sat down.

"I hope Dean Cyril will be magnanimous and not make me pay for his suit when I get back."

"How come Cyril is such a stingy person in your mind?"

Pierre laughed.

"He kept pressing me on the phone about who I'd been hanging out with in Boston lately. He said I'd just cut through continuous differential geometry using homological algebra two months ago, so why was I suddenly thinking about building an algebraic geometry framework on discrete lattice points last night?"

Chen Zhuo took a sip of water to moisten his throat, said nothing, and reached out to straighten the slightly wrinkled stack of fax papers on the table.

"Smith complained to me about it this morning too."

Pierre stared at the ceiling.

"The two guys who were with you yesterday, they put three tables together with rust, and one of the fat guys almost got into a fight over ownership of half a blackboard. One of the kids even signed a $20,000 check on the spot and forcibly packed up the table and blackboard and took them away."

Chen Zhuo put down his cup.

"If David doesn't buy that blackboard, and if the tavern owner wipes it clean this morning, Sam and his gang might tear it up."

"You seem to have a lot of free time."

Pierre shook his head.

"Cyril didn't sound like that on the phone. He said that your spatial equivalence forcibly closed the probe of the intermediate Jacobian cluster at the singularity. What were his exact words?"

"Oh right, Chen took a wrench that could be used to disassemble the core components of the Hodge Conjecture and used it as a hammer for two young men in the tavern."

"Just doing it on a whim."

Chen Zhuo put the cup back in its original place.

"Last night, Sam got stuck on the third loop of the Monte Carlo algorithm, and Allen's continuous gravitational field diverged when approaching the singularity. The continuous approach didn't work, so I could only try to put a shell on the discrete lattice using a high-dimensional loop."

"After we erected that constant wall, the singularity boundary of the normal function was aligned perfectly, and the algebraic chain transformation that we hadn't finished calculating before was closed by chance last night."

Pierre took a deep breath, turned his head, and stared intently at Chen Zhuo. After a long while, he gave a self-deprecating twitch at the corner of his mouth.

"happen."

"If Cyril heard those two words, he'd probably throw that coffee-stained suit right into the trash tonight. Your stroke of the pen has essentially pushed the proof of the high-dimensional cyclic singularity of intermediate Jacobian varieties in discrete states forward by a huge step."

"When Qiu ran into me in the hallway at the science center this afternoon, the shock on his face hadn't completely faded yet."

Chen Zhuo was slightly taken aback and looked up.

"Professor Qiu?"

"He originally came to support and endorse Zhu and Cao's Poincaré."

Pierre picked up the papers from the coffee table and shook them.

"As a result, all day today, those young scholars from Harvard and MIT didn't even attend their partial differential equations class during the day. They all hid downstairs copying the few lines of Chow you left in that lousy bar last night."

"Qiu was very happy. He said that we Chinese were going to make a big splash in Boston this October. Zhu and Cao were deriving the Ricci flow extremum domain loophole on the stage, while the audience below was secretly discussing your constant wall."

Chen Zhuo smiled helplessly and rubbed his knee.

"When I had dinner with Professor Zhu the day before yesterday, I promised him that I would sit in the front row and listen to his Ricci flow report for the next two days. Last night I just went out with David to relax. Who knew that Sam's array would collapse at that grid point."

Pierre's lips twitched, a slight smile appearing on his face, as he reached out and pushed the few sheets of fax paper covered in noise forward.

"Back to the main topic, the folding of quotient spaces, that's good. You haven't used algebraic truncation like this in a long time."

Chen Zhuo glanced down at the lines on the paper.

"The situation was a bit rushed at the time."

Chen Zhuo raised his head.

"Sam's array was about to overflow, Allen's gravitational field was about to collapse, and those Ivy League elites almost came to blows in the pub. If we don't build a constant wall here, none of us will be able to go back to our rooms to sleep last night."

Pierre leaned back on the sofa, placing his hands, folded, on his stomach.

"If those old guys in continuous differential geometry saw you using this kind of discrete algebraic loop to frame an eleven-dimensional string membrane, they'd probably argue with Princeton for half a month at the Annals of Mathematics review meeting."

"So I came here tonight to talk to the teacher."

Chen Zhuo straightened his back and looked at Pierre.

"I don't intend to combine physics and Sam's code into mathematics to make three dishes out of one."

Pierre raised an eyebrow, said nothing, and simply listened quietly.

"I stripped away all the physical operators and engineering code from the pure mathematical foundation."

Chen Zhuo spoke slowly, and his voice was quite clear in the quiet living room.

"I will use pure algebraic logic to prove that under a specific structure, this algebraic loop is self-consistently truncated. I will be able to finish the draft tonight and hand it over to Editor-in-Chief Cyril."

The room fell silent.

The leaves of a red oak tree outside the window rustled against the glass in the wind, making a series of dull sounds.

Pierre stared at Chen Zhuo for two seconds, then suddenly burst out laughing.

"Are you planning to smash this pristine foundation of algebra onto Cyril's desk, and then let all those old men in America who play with continuous manifolds guess how to fill in the remaining twenty pages of physics?"

Chen Zhuo smiled as well.

"Alan is writing about physics. In his derivation of the vacuum state of a two-dimensional string membrane, the first line directly quotes the conclusion I wrote tonight, treating it as an axiom that doesn't need to be questioned. This article just fits the four-page limit of PRL."

"Sam's code was submitted to a top computer science conference, and its core logic is also based on my mathematical foundation."

Chen Zhuo put his hands into the pockets of his sweatshirt.

"In this way, the three papers were published simultaneously in the three top journals of mathematics, physics, and computer science, and were cited by each other as anchor points."

Pierre leaned back on the sofa, tapping his fingers lightly on the armrest.

He was known for his unorthodox thinking in European academic circles when he was young, so he naturally understood the significance behind Chen Zhuo's plan.

This is no longer a simple matter of publishing an article; it's forcing reviewers from three different fields to sit at the same table and compromise with each other.

"I've already accepted Cyril's call during the day."

Pierre turned his gaze back and pointed to a stack of forms at the very edge of the coffee table.

"Although the deadline for this issue's layout has passed, he deliberately left a few pages blank for Princeton. If you dare to smash this base over there, Cyril will have those old men who play with continuous manifolds check the printed sample copy all night."

"Here's the form. It's a joint filing memorandum from Harvard and Princeton. Smith signed it this morning."

Chen Zhuo reached out and took the stack of forms, glanced at the flamboyant English signature at the bottom, folded them twice, and casually stuffed them into the large pocket of his sweatshirt.

"Thank you, teacher."

"No need to thank me. That old man Smith is even more anxious than I am right now. His professors, who are in charge of their groups, heard that someone is going to run discrete approximation on a supercomputer, and they're already keeping an eye on things in the computer room. But where did David take them?"

"David's private apartment outside Boston."

Chen Zhuo stood up and loosened the zipper slightly.

"David had the code's feasibility verified during the day. He rented a high-end apartment there; it's quiet. Allen and Sam have already gone there. They're not sleeping tonight; they're going to finish those two peripheral outlines and physics derivations on the computer."

Pierre looked at Chen Zhuo and took off his reading glasses:

"We'll leave the foundation to them. As for whether Allen's physics and Sam's code can hold up, that's their problem, right?"

Chen Zhuo walked to the door, held the handle, turned around and smiled at Pierre.

"If they can't hold their ground, then it's a problem for the physics and computer science communities."