My IQ has been increasing year by year.

Chapter 317 Visit

With two brake screechs almost simultaneously, two black Ford vans bearing access passes to the MIT Computer Science Lab and two sedans with Harvard University logos on their doors came to a stop in the driveway outside the apartment building.

The car door was pushed open from the inside.

Richard stepped out of the back seat of the Ford minivan.

His suit jacket, wrinkled from his journey, was still unbuttoned, and he clutched a stack of papers tightly in his hand. They were copies of Chen Zhuo's fifteen-page algebra manuscript and Sam's preprint paper filled with pseudocode.

Almost at the same second, the door of the Haval sedan next to it was also pushed open.

Professor Kane, dressed in a meticulously tailored dark gray tweed coat and wearing gold-rimmed glasses, walked down the steps, carrying a stack of printed papers covered in red annotations.

The two groups of people bumped into each other at the bottom of the steps outside the apartment building.

A cold Boston wind blew between the two of them.

Richard stopped in his tracks.

Kane also stopped in his tracks.

Behind them, seven or eight core engineers from the MIT algorithm group, and five or six top scholars from Harvard's high-dimensional physics model team, all emerged from the car behind.

At the very back of the crowd, Sam and Allen looked at each other with complicated expressions.

There were no vulgar insults or physical altercations.

As longtime acquaintances who saw each other all the time in Boston's academic circles, Richard and Kane both displayed the composure befitting top academics, but the undercurrents in the air were more intense than any argument.

Richard's gaze swept over the stack of papers in Kane's hand, taking in the densely packed physical field equations.

Good morning, Kane.

Richard twitched the corner of his mouth, revealing a cold, emotionless smile.

"I thought your Harvard physics department would be frantically calculating the law of conservation of energy at this hour, how come you have time to come out onto this street and stand in the cold wind? What are string theory physicists doing in this apartment building?"

Kane reached out a hand and straightened the collar of his coat.

"Richard, keep an eye on your engineering students who can only fix computers and write infinite loops."

Kane's voice wasn't loud, but his enunciation was clear.

"The underlying structure of this trinity is the topological essence of our universe, the holy grail of theoretical physics. Mr. Chen Zhuo proved the closure of the eleven-dimensional universe with algebraic operators. This is the realm of God, and it is not up to you engineers who only know about computing power to dabble in it."

Kane paused, his gaze falling on Richard's somewhat pale face. His tone was calm, yet it was like a heavy hammer blow.

"Furthermore, I heard that the underlying patent that MIT originally planned for handling tens of millions of concurrent users has been completely stripped of its contents?"

Richard's facial muscles twitched suddenly.

The fact that his patents were locked up by an offshore trust in the Cayman Islands was the biggest humiliation he suffered this morning.

Kane's words struck Richard's most sensitive nerve.

But Richard did not fly into a rage as he had in the computer room.

He took a deep breath and forcefully suppressed his anger.

Richard and Kane exchanged a glance.

In that one second of eye contact, the two giants, each standing at the pinnacle of their respective fields, simultaneously saw a complex emotion in each other's eyes.

It was a mixture of fear and longing.

They all knew very well that standing here today, they were no longer the high and mighty heads of prestigious schools, nor the mentors who held the power of life and death.

They came to ask for help.

That fourteen-year-old boy who could write quotient space mapping and discrete truncation operators, that monster who could slice through the two mountains of physics and computer science with a single stroke, is the true master of today's meeting.

Richard did not retaliate.

He merely snorted coldly, gripped the manuscript paper in his hand, strode up the steps, and walked straight into the apartment lobby.

Kane, not to be outdone, followed closely behind with his Harvard scholars.

In the spacious lobby of the apartment building, only the mechanical sound of the elevator running could be heard.

The two groups of people walked to the large passenger elevator, neither willing to give way to the other.

"bite."

The elevator doors opened.

Richard and Kane stepped inside at the same time.

The two core teams behind them also silently followed, filling the large elevator, which was originally large enough to accommodate twenty people, to the brim.

The elevator doors slowly closed, shutting out the light from the lobby.

The elevator car began to ascend.

In this small, enclosed space that smelled faintly of metal, the atmosphere was eerily quiet.

No one spoke; even their breathing was deliberately suppressed.

Richard stood on the far left of the elevator, his thumb unconsciously rubbing the edge of the stack of photocopies in his hand.

His palms were already covered in a fine layer of sweat.

As a Turing Award-winning scholar, Richard has seen countless geniuses in his life, but he has never been as nervous as he is now.

He frantically rehearsed in his mind what would happen after the door opened:

What should I say as my first sentence?

What attitude should we take when facing that fourteen-year-old boy?

MIT's computer labs have tens of millions of dollars in independent research funding each year, top-tier computing power al__cpLocation, and even specially appointed faculty positions that bypass all conventional reviews...

How should these bargaining chips, enough to drive all computer scientists in the world crazy, be presented to that boy in a tactful, elegant, and irresistible way?

On the far right side of the elevator, Professor Kane was staring at the red floor numbers that kept flashing on the elevator door.

With each number that jumped, Kane felt his heart beat a little heavier.

The stack of physics papers annotated in red pen that he was clutching in his hand felt as heavy as a ton of bricks at that moment.

That is the weight of truth.

Kane's mind kept replaying the perfectly self-consistent eleven-dimensional topological manifold that Allen had deduced on the blackboard in the conference room.

That boy named Chen Zhuo not only understands mathematics, but also possesses a higher-dimensional intuition that is more terrifying than that of all theoretical physicists!

Harvard's physics department absolutely needs him!

Even if it means cutting the entire budget of the geometry analysis group, even if it means begging the president to use the board's special reserves, we must keep this monster in Harvard's laboratory!

"bite--"

A crisp notification sound rang out.

We've reached the floor.

The elevator car shook slightly and then stopped.

The tightly closed metal door slowly slid open to both sides, revealing a corridor covered with a thick carpet.

Just when the hallway outside was so quiet you could hear a pin drop.

Inside the living room of the apartment, separated by just one door.

The atmosphere, however, presented a relaxed yet eerily tranquil scene, completely opposite to that outside the door.

Hearing David announce their arrival from the window, the people in the living room did not show any signs of panic.

David turned away from the window.

He walked steadily to a walnut sideboard on the side of the living room and picked up his briefcase.

David pulled out a thick legal document bearing the seal of the Cayman Islands Trust, along with several blank confidentiality agreements.

He neatly stacked the documents on the other side of the central island, smoothing out the tiny wrinkles on the edges of the papers.

David then reached up and straightened his dark gray silk tie, rolled up his shirt cuffs that he had rolled up while doing housework, and fastened his cufflinks.

On a single sofa.

Pierre, observing David's tense, legal demeanor, casually shifted his posture, crossing one leg over the other.

He reached out and gently patted Arthur, who was still questioning his existence on the sofa next to him.

"Cheer up, Arthur."

Pierre's voice carried an undisguised French humor and a protectiveness of his own.

"People from Harvard and MIT are already at our doorstep. If you keep putting on this doomsday expression, they'll think Princeton has already surrendered."

"No matter how badly Cyril loses in business, at least in terms of academic legitimacy, Chen Zhuo is still one of us at Princeton."

Upon hearing this, a glimmer of light finally rekindled in Arthur's dull, bloodshot eyes.

He straightened up abruptly and took a deep breath.

Yes, although Princeton did not make any money from the Cayman Islands, Chen Zhuo's academic records, his full scholarship, and his status as a researcher endorsed by Cyril and Pierre are all in black and white and irrefutable!

Arthur straightened his disheveled trench coat, smoothed out the collar, pressed his hands heavily on his knees, and slightly raised his chin.

And at the very center of the storm.

While all the bigwigs, academics, and legal professionals were adjusting their breathing and fully armed for his sake.

Chen Zhuo turned around.

He casually placed the empty glass of milk in his hand into the sink next to him.

He turned on the tap, and a thin stream of water washed away the remaining liquid on the cup.

Chen Zhu shook the water off his hands and pulled a dry towel from the hook next to him to wipe his hands.

He did not go to see David, who was on high alert, nor to see Arthur, who had regained his dignity.

He simply looked up at the clock on the wall.

The second hand ticked away.

Boston time, 11:40 a.m.

Chen Zhuo hung the towel back in its place, his gaze sweeping across the messy living room before finally settling on Pierre and Arthur sitting on the sofa.

It's almost noon.

Chen Zhuo's tone was very natural, just like an ordinary young man asking an elder who came to visit his home on a weekend noon.

"There was only one carton of milk left in the fridge, David. Should we order some takeout?"

Chen Zhuo stood with his hands in his pockets, looking at Pierre and Arthur.

"Professor Pierre, Professor Arthur, what would you like to eat for lunch? There's a pretty good Italian pizza place nearby, or how about we order a few Chinese food blind boxes?"

David looked at Chen Zhuo, and the corner of his mouth twitched violently involuntarily.

His carefully constructed legal demeanor was almost completely shattered by that one sentence.

Pierre paused for half a second, then burst into laughter.

"Let's have Chinese food, Chen. I was very impressed with the Kung Pao Chicken when I went to China last time."

"OK."

Chen Zhuo nodded.

Just as Chen Zhuo was about to turn around and look for a takeout flyer...

"Ding-dong~"

"Ding-dong, ding-dong~"

The doorbell rang urgently outside the apartment building.

The people outside the door were clearly impatient.

The four people in the apartment stopped what they were doing at the same time.

David took a deep breath, turned around, and walked steadily toward the entrance.

David's hand gripped the cold metal doorknob.

In the corridor outside the door.

Richard and Kane stood side by side, their chests rising and falling slightly.

In those few seconds after pressing the doorbell, their brains, like computers, were finalizing the recruitment conditions they were about to present.

The door was slowly pulled open from the inside.

Richard and Kane instinctively straightened their backs, their expressions instantly shifting to a perfect state that was both academically dignified and eager to recruit talent.

Good morning.

David Collin stood inside the doorway, his face bearing that flawless, smug smile, blocking the entrance.

Richard and Kane were taken aback. Of course they recognized this person; even if they hadn't before, they had met him this morning.

"David".

Richard's tone was urgent; he didn't even bother with the patent issue and stepped forward directly.

"We're not here to see you! Where's Chen Zhuo?! Make him come out and see us!"

Kane also took a step forward, attempting to bypass David and enter the apartment.

David did not back down.

He stood still, extended his right hand, and made an elegant yet unusually firm stop gesture.

"Professors, please calm down."

David's voice wasn't loud, but it was incredibly penetrating in the quiet corridor.

"First of all, this is private property, so please be mindful of your manners. Secondly, as Mr. Chen Zhuo's chief legal representative, I must kindly remind you both."

David pushed up his glasses, and a cold glint flashed across the lenses.

"Regarding the underlying algorithms and physical models of that trinity architecture, commercial cross-licensing has been completely locked. If you are here today for any purpose involving the theft of secrets or forced requisition at the commercial application level..."

A cold smile curled at the corners of David's mouth.

"The Colin family's legal team will not hesitate to sue you into bankruptcy and subject your labs to endless federal investigations."

Get off the horse.

Richard's face instantly turned bright red; when had he ever been treated like this at MIT?

"Get out of the way, David!"

Richard shoved David's outstretched hand away, his voice low with anger.

"I told you, we're not here to steal patents! We're here to discuss academic matters! Get out of my way, I want to see the person who wrote the algebraic truncation operator!"

Kane also walked right past David without any hesitation.

"Harvard has the right to engage in purely theoretical exchanges with any scholar; you have no right to obstruct the progress of physics!"

David was pushed aside, but he was neither angry nor did he try to stop them.

He simply turned to the side, made a gesture of invitation, and the smile on his lips became somewhat playful.

"Well then, the apartment is a bit messy, everyone, please come in."

Richard and Kane, leading their men, strode into the apartment with an imposing air.

They were prepared to throw top-of-the-line checks and the most outrageous teaching offers right in the face of that fourteen-year-old prodigy.

They stepped through the entrance hall.

I walked into the brightly lit living room.

The moment they stepped into the living room, they saw the huge whiteboard covered with equations.

Their gaze then swept toward the rest area behind the whiteboard.

Richard's prepared statement, "The position of director of the independent lab at MIT is yours," stuck in his throat.

Kane swallowed back the phrase he had prepared: a tenured professorship at Harvard.

The two academic tyrants who had been so arrogant outside the door were completely stunned when they saw who was sitting on the sofa. They froze on the spot as if struck by lightning.

On the sofa directly in front of them.

Pierre was holding a cup of black tea that he had somehow found, slowly blowing on the steam, watching them with a theatrical gaze.

On the single sofa next to him, Arthur sat with his hands crossed on his knees, staring intently at the intruders with a gloomy, possessive, and extremely contemptuous gaze.

Richard's pupils contracted sharply.

Kane's breathing stopped.

"Pierre?!"

"Arthur?!"

Richard, as if he had seen a ghost, couldn't help but let out a startled gasp.

"What are you doing here?!"

In this historic battle for talent, the Harvard and MIT alliance initially thought they were the fastest.

But they never dreamed that when they broke down the door and rushed into the treasure vault, the two ancient behemoths of Princeton were already sitting steadily next to the treasure, like left and right guardians!

Pierre put down his teacup.

The ceramic pieces clinked together, producing a crisp, clear sound that was particularly loud in the quiet living room.

He leaned back on the sofa, looking at the dumbfounded Richard and Kane, adopting an ultimate Versailles-style French posture.

"That's a really stupid question, Richard."

Pierre spread his hands, his tone carrying an air of self-righteousness that made one's teeth itch.

"Chen Zhuo is my student and a registered research fellow at Princeton. As his mentor, it's only natural that I should come to check on him on this beautiful weekend morning to see if he slept well last night."

Pierre's gaze swept over the engineers and scholars behind them, and his tone gradually turned cold.

"But you, the director of MIT and the professor of Harvard, barged into a private apartment with so many people in such a menacing manner."

Pierre raised his chin slightly, his eyes sharpening.

"Are you trying to intimidate our Princeton darling here?"