My IQ has been increasing year by year.

Chapter 304 made a splash

Chen Zhuo pushed open the apartment door and walked out.

On a Boston morning in October, the wind brushed against my face, carrying the cool scent of the Charles River.

The streetlights were still on, and there weren't many cars on the road. Occasionally, an early-morning van would drive by, its tires crunching over the road and kicking up fallen autumn leaves.

Chen Zhuo put his hands in his coat pockets, walked down the steps, and walked along the sidewalk towards the intersection ahead.

His right knee was a little sore and swollen from sitting all night, so he walked slowly and steadily.

After standing at the intersection for a short while, a yellow taxi, a common sight on the streets of Boston, drove up from a distance.

Chen Zhuo raised his hand and waved it.

The taxi turned on its right turn signal and pulled over. Chen Zhuo opened the back door and got in.

"Where to?"

The white driver in front was a slightly overweight middle-aged man who glanced at him in the rearview mirror.

"Harvard Science Center"

Chen Zhuo leaned back in his chair.

The driver nodded, reached out and pressed the meter, turned the steering wheel, and the car rejoined the main road.

The heater was on in the carriage, and the temperature was set quite high. The air was filled with a mixture of car air freshener and a faint smell of tobacco, making it feel somewhat stuffy.

The car radio was on, not very loud, broadcasting the morning sports news. The presenter spoke quickly, seemingly discussing a Red Sox baseball game from the previous night, with cheers from fans mixed in the background.

Chen Zhuo sat in the back seat, turned his head, and looked at the street scene rushing past the car window.

The convenience store on the street corner had just lit up its sign, and the coffee shop on the roadside was having staff wiping the glass; everything was slowly waking up in the morning light.

Even if you have plenty of energy, after staying up all night, you'll still feel a slight emptiness in your mind.

In this narrow, warm carriage, which even swayed slightly with the road conditions, Chen Zhuo didn't think about the fifteen pages of manuscript he had written the night before, nor did he try to guess what Princeton's reaction would be.

All those massive algebraic formulas, matrix arrangements, and constant walls were all paused by him at this moment.

He sat there quietly, listening to the somewhat muffled English broadcasts on the radio, watching the sky outside slowly brighten.

This ten-odd minute drive became a pure period of relaxation.

The car slowed down at an intersection, turned onto a relatively quiet street, and finally stopped at the edge of a plaza near the science center.

"arrive."

The driver stepped on the brake and glanced at the meter.

Chen Zhuo took out a few coins from his pocket and handed them over.

As soon as I stepped out of the train carriage, a cool breeze of the October morning blew over me.

The wind was cold, carrying the desolation unique to autumn. It pierced right through my coat, blowing away the stuffiness and drowsiness I had picked up in the carriage.

Chen Zhuo took a deep breath and felt his mind become completely clear.

He casually zipped his jacket all the way up, put his hands back into his pockets, and walked along the sidewalk.

The road surface here is covered with fallen red oak leaves. It seems there was a light rain last night. The leaves are half-dry and cling to the red bricks, making a slight sound when you step on them.

More and more pedestrians appeared on the road.

Most of them were students carrying backpacks, hurrying to various teaching buildings. There were also some scholars wearing jackets or trench coats, carrying document bags, walking in the same direction.

After crossing half the square, you'll find a tree-lined path leading to the science center.

A handcart selling breakfast coffee was parked at the intersection.

Hot water was boiling in a large stainless steel tank on the vehicle, emitting white steam. Next to it was an old semi-automatic coffee machine, and the vendor was turning on the steam valve to froth milk, making a hissing sound.

The air was filled with the rich, slightly burnt aroma of freshly ground coffee beans, along with the fragrance of freshly baked buttered croissants.

There were three or four people lined up in front of the handcart.

As Chen Zhuo walked over, the person at the very front of the line had just finished paying. The person reached out and took the paper cup handed to him by the owner, then turned around.

He held a coffee cup in one hand and a thick stack of lecture notes tucked under his other arm; the edges of the papers were curled from being turned over.

Shing-Tung Yau.

Old Qiu turned around and came face to face with Chen Zhuo, who was walking over.

The old man paused for a moment, his gaze lingering on Chen Zhuo for two seconds as he looked him over.

"Professor Qiu."

Chen Zhuo stopped, took his hand out of his pocket, and greeted him with a slight smile.

Old Qiu held his coffee cup and looked at Chen Zhuo, who, although in relatively good spirits, showed undeniable signs of staying up late in his eyes. He gave Chen Zhuo a friendly smile.

"Up so early?"

Professor Qiu's voice lacked the airs of an academic giant. He took a step forward, leaving the line for coffee, his tone carrying a familiar warmth like that of an elder.

"Judging by your condition, you stayed up all night?"

Chen Zhuo smiled and stood beside Qiu Lao, the two of them side by side on the roadside.

"I slept too much during the day," Chen Zhuo said.

"I happened to have some ideas in the evening, so I just sorted them out."

A morning breeze blew by, swirling a few fallen leaves around their feet.

Old Qiu reached out and gathered the lecture notes tucked under his arm, then lowered his head and took a small sip of the black coffee in his hand, the steam blurring his glasses.

"It's a bit chilly in Boston at the end of October."

Looking at the bare tree branches on both sides of the street, Old Qiu turned his head and chatted casually with Chen Zhuo.

"It's much colder than back home at this time of year, isn't it?"

Chen Zhuo nodded as he watched the white steam rising from the coffee cart.

"It's a bit cold. The wind isn't this chilly back home at this time of year, so it's a little more comfortable."

"Judging by the time, you've been in the United States for almost two months now."

Old Qiu held his cup, his eyes showing concern.

"Are you adjusting to the climate and food here?"

"It's alright." Chen Zhuo smiled.

"My teacher's wife specially learned some Chinese cooking for me before I came, and I can also eat Western food, so it was fine."

"It's good that you can adapt." Old Qiu nodded.

"We Chinese people have strong stomachs and bones. We need to take our time to adjust here. If you can't get used to Western food, try to find Chinese restaurants and make yourself some hot soup noodles. Don't take your youth for granted. You'll suffer later when it rains."

"I know, thank you, Professor Qiu," Chen Zhuo said.

The two did not linger by the roadside, but slowly walked along the tree-lined path toward the science center building.

Old Qiu walked slowly, sipping his coffee as he went. Chen Zhuo followed the old man's pace, walking at a leisurely pace as well.

After walking a short distance, Old Qiu looked at the road ahead and changed the subject.

"Yesterday afternoon, Pierre ran into me in the hallway and told me that I had created some kind of constant wall that aligned the boundaries between discrete and continuous systems."

Old Qiu turned his head and looked at Chen Zhuo's profile, his tone filled with undisguised admiration and a hint of a smile.

"When I heard that, I was a little skeptical. That's a dead end between continuous differential geometry and algebraic closed chains. How could it be so easy to align them?"

Old Qiu slowed his pace and switched the coffee cup in his hand to the other.

"As a result, news spread at Harvard and MIT early this morning that someone had run a model on a supercomputer using this theory overnight, which even alarmed that old guy Smith."

Old Qiu laughed out loud, looking at Chen Zhuo.

Chen Zhuo listened to Qiu Lao's words, but just looked at the road ahead with a gentle smile on his lips.

"The draft was finished last night."

Chen Zhuo spoke in a very ordinary tone, as if he were talking about a trivial matter.

"I sent the pure algebraic proof to Dean Cyril using the apartment's fax machine before leaving this morning."

Upon hearing this, Old Qiu stopped in his tracks.

He stood by the roadside, looking at the indifferent-looking boy with his hands in his pockets.

After a long while, Old Qiu sighed deeply, his eyes filled with a sense of relief.

"Good lad."

Old Qiu shook his head, a slight upturn at the corners of his mouth.

"Cyril got that fax this morning, and he probably won't even be in the mood for coffee anymore. Those old men at Princeton won't be getting a good night's sleep this month."

Old Qiu started walking again, his tone tinged with pride.

"We Chinese really made a splash in Boston this October."

"It's just a shortcut."

Chen Zhuo followed beside him, his voice gentle.

"If a continuous path is blocked, I can only put a shell around the discrete grid points and get around it."

There are no shortcuts in mathematics; the ability lies in finding a way that works.

After finishing the last sip of his coffee, Professor Qiu looked at the science center building in the distance.

"Now that you've paved your own way, relax and be a listener today. Poincaré is too tough a nut to crack. Zhu Xiping and Cao Huaidong have been getting only a few hours of sleep a night lately."

There was a hint of weariness in Old Qiu's voice.

"They're teaching the most crucial lemma of Ricci flow today, and everyone's struggling to stay awake. You promised Lao Zhu the day before yesterday that you'd sit in the front row, so don't skip class again today."

"I see."

Chen Zhuo nodded and readily accepted his elder's instructions.

"Today I'll just be a good listener."

The two continued walking forward.

Sunlight filtered through the leaves, dappling the road; the science center was now in sight.

The small square in front of the building was bustling with people.

A tense and serious academic atmosphere permeated the air.

Old Qiu walked to the trash can by the roadside, threw the empty paper cup in, and then tidied up the lecture notes under his arm.

"Let's go in," said Old Qiu.

Chen Zhuo nodded.

The two walked side by side toward the entrance of the science center.

As we passed the small square, many people recognized Shing-Tung Yau. Some young scholars stopped and respectfully greeted him.

Old Qiu smiled and nodded in response.

After exchanging greetings, the gazes of those who had finished naturally fell upon Chen Zhuo, who was walking beside Elder Qiu.

Chen Zhuo's name had already spread throughout this circle.

That algebraic genius who cut through the scratch part of the Hodge conjecture made a few appearances at the conference a few days ago, but I heard he wasn't interested in partial differential equations and hasn't been coming around much since.

Seeing him reappear with Elder Qiu looking relaxed, many people's eyes flashed with surprise and curiosity.

Chen Zhuo didn't care about the stares from those around him.

He followed Professor Qiu up the steps, through the gate, and into the lobby of the Harvard Science Center.

Groups of mathematicians gathered together, almost each holding a thick stack of printed papers.

"That metric is completely discontinuous here! How could the boundary conditions of the surgical procedure be directly bypassed?"

On the left, next to a coffee shop, an elderly man with gray hair was tapping heavily on a piece of paper on the table with a red pen, shouting loudly to his companion across from him.

"But according to Perelman's paper, as long as the curvature is bounded, this region can be smoothed out!"

The middle-aged man opposite him also raised his voice and slammed his hand on the table.

The air was thick with the tension of academic debate, and the restlessness caused by prolonged sleep deprivation; almost everyone's eyes were bloodshot.

Chen Zhuo stood at the edge of the hall, watching this scene.

Old Qiu was already used to this kind of scene.

He looked around and saw Pierre and Professor Arthur standing not far away at the entrance of the corridor.

"Pierre is over there, let's go."

Old Qiu turned his head and said something to Chen Zhuo.

Chen Zhuo nodded.

He took his hands out of his pockets and followed Old Qiu, walking steadily through the arguing crowd towards the depths of the corridor.