My IQ has been increasing year by year.

Chapter 322 That's it!

The Boston mornings are crisp and clear, with the unique coolness of late autumn.

Sunlight streamed into David's apartment through the huge floor-to-ceiling windows, turning the natural wood floor a golden hue.

If you ignored the strong, nauseating smell of black coffee in the air, it would have been an exceptionally beautiful morning.

Chen Zhuo pushed open the bedroom door.

The entire living room had been completely transformed into what resembled some kind of cult ritual.

Sam and Allen remained in the same positions as last night, sitting cross-legged on the carpet in front of the whiteboard, like two statues about to crumble.

Scattered around them were at least a dozen crumpled pizza wrappers, dozens of empty Red Bull cans, and torn pieces of draft paper.

Sam had styled his curly hair into some indescribable bird's nest, his eyes were fixed on his laptop screen, and he was muttering nervously like a schizophrenic.

Allen was lying sprawled on the carpet, holding a whiteboard eraser in his hand, staring blankly at the chandelier on the ceiling, as if trying to see something through the light bulb.

Chen Zhuo walked to the island counter in the open kitchen and poured himself a glass of water.

"morning."

Chen Zhuo took a sip of water and greeted him in a calm tone.

Upon hearing this greeting, which seemed to come from another dimension, the two zombies on the carpet turned their heads at the same time.

Two pairs of bloodshot eyes, filled with resentment, stared intently at Chen Zhuo without saying a word.

Chen Zhuo felt a little uneasy under their gazes, so he put down his water glass and turned to walk towards the coat rack by the door.

"Where are you going?!"

Sam raised his head like a vicious dog guarding its food.

"Just wander around the campuses of Harvard or MIT."

Chen Zhuo took off a coat, put it on, and opened the apartment door.

"If I remember, I'll bring you two pizzas when I come back this afternoon."

After saying that, Chen Zhuo walked out the door without hesitation, completely shutting out the two desperate cries from inside.

......

At 10:30 a.m., Cambridge was sunny and the temperature was pleasant.

With his hands in his pockets, Chen Zhuo strolled leisurely along the streets along the Charles River toward MIT.

Chen Zhuo enjoyed this quiet world.

He was in a state like a student who had just finished his final exam, exuding a sense of relaxation.

However, as he walked slowly along the street into MIT's famous open campus without walls, he suddenly sensed something was wrong.

Today is Saturday.

Logically, on weekends at American colleges, the campus should be filled with young men and women throwing frisbees on the lawns, or students sitting on the steps playing guitar and dating.

But today, the atmosphere on the entire MIT campus seems a little off.

Chen Zhuo stopped in his tracks and stood in front of the famous Stet Tower Centre, a building with a twisted shape and a deconstructivist style.

The open-air plaza outside the building was filled with people in twos and threes.

No one was throwing frisbees, and no one was dating.

Almost every student and researcher sitting on the lawn, bench, or steps was clutching a stack of printed A4 papers tightly in their hands.

Some of them were biting their pens, their brows furrowed in worry, while others huddled together in twos or threes, arguing fiercely over the formulas on the paper, occasionally letting out a curse.

Chen Zhuo squinted slightly. With his excellent eyesight, he could clearly see the familiar layout on the header of the printed paper, as well as the formulas that had been frantically circled in red pen.

Preprint of the paper.

Especially his essay "The Foundation of Algebra".

Chen Zhuo raised an eyebrow and continued walking into the building.

At the entrance to MIT’s famous Long Corridor, a professor from some unknown department actually had his teaching assistant drag a huge, three-meter-long movable blackboard from the classroom to the middle of the busy corridor.

Three elderly professors with gray hair stood in front of the huge blackboard, holding chalk in their hands, arguing heatedly like three male lions fighting for territory.

The blackboard was densely covered with various high-order calculus equations, topological mappings, and complex homology group derivations.

In the very center of the blackboard, three old professors drew a huge circle with chalk.

Constant C.

"This is absurd! It doesn't make any sense from a topological perspective!"

A bearded professor angrily banged the blackboard with chalk.

"C. Zhuo could not possibly have simply performed a scalar truncation here! There must exist an implicit smoothing mapping based on the Calabi-Yau manifold between these two discrete matrices! He just found the proof too cumbersome and omitted those dozens of pages of derivation!"

"Bullshit! Richard, all you have in your head is your outdated topological manifolds!"

Another old man wearing thick-rimmed glasses retorted without any politeness.

"This is clearly an algebraic geometry operation! It's using the singularity of the Riemann surface to forcibly devour redundant variables! We must reconstruct this transition bridge along the direction of the Riemann surface!"

"Stop arguing! You two old fogies are completely wrong!"

The third professor was so anxious he was jumping up and down.

"Those idiots in the engineering department are already using this operator to run closed-loop data! This means that the constant C is an absolutely real threshold with a physical meaning! We must use functional analysis to deduce its core idea!"

"Snapped!"

The bearded professor angrily slammed the half-piece of chalk in his hand onto the ground, shattering it into pieces.

"If we can't deduce it, are we going to tell the world at the joint seminar between the three universities in the second half of the month that we don't even understand a single constant in a preprint?! I'd rather jump into the Charles River right now!"

The three old men were once again engrossed in the painful derivation process, erasing and rewriting the formulas on the blackboard repeatedly.

A group of doctoral students and teaching assistants surrounded him, barely daring to breathe, all frantically taking notes.

Chen Zhuo put his hands in his pockets and carefully walked past the group of scholars.

He glanced at the complex, lengthy derivations on the blackboard that were trying to find a reasonable calculus explanation for him.

He sighed silently to himself.

I walked briskly out of the corridor and arrived at an open-air café on the edge of the campus.

The café was also packed with people, a significant portion of whom were students who had brought their laptops and draft paper to work on their papers.

Chen Zhuo ordered a thick-cut beef sandwich and an iced Americano from the order counter.

He carried his tray and scanned the outdoor area before finally finding an empty seat at a round table in the corner.

The round table was large, and the other half was occupied by three young people who looked haggard and as if they hadn't washed their hair in a week.

Two men and one woman sat on a table piled high with printed papers, an open laptop, and several empty cups of espresso.

"Do you mind if I sit here?"

Chen Zhuo pointed to the empty chair and asked politely.

The three young men looked up from a pile of draft papers and glanced at Chen Zhuo.

Seeing that he was only holding a sandwich and coffee, and not one of those hopeless papers, one of the white boys, whose hairline had receded significantly, nodded wearily.

"Sit down. You can sit anywhere as long as you don't discuss those damn higher-dimensional manifolds with us."

"Thanks."

Chen Zhuo pulled out a chair, sat down, tore open the sandwich wrapper, and took a big bite.

The juices of the beef and the crispy bread mingled in his mouth, and Chen Zhuo squinted his eyes contentedly.

"I swear, if I ever found out where this guy named C. Zhuo is, I'll shove my shoe up his nose!"

Just as Chen Zhuo swallowed the first bite of his sandwich, the boy next to him with a receding hairline grabbed his already thinning hair with both hands and let out a wailing sound of despair.

"Chris, calm down."

The girl next to him, wearing thick-rimmed black glasses, sighed and drew a huge cross on the paper in front of her with a red pen.

"This is the seventh functional model we have failed to derive today. We simply cannot find how it jumps from continuous space to discrete matrix."

"How can I stay calm?!"

Chris pointed to the conspicuous constant C on the printed paper, his fingers trembling.

"Janet, look at this derivation! This is utter academic sleight of hand! No proof, no boundary conditions, just directly setting C as the cutoff threshold! That's it?! Does he think he's writing some kind of fantasy novel?! That variables disappear with a single incantation?!"

Another Indian boy who hadn't spoken until now also looked up in despair, his dark circles under his eyes making him look like a panda.

"This is murder... This C. Zhuo is an absolutely emotionless antisocial personality machine."

Janet pushed up her glasses, her eyes revealing a complex mix of anger and awe.

"But you have to admit, Sam and Allen did make the project work."

"Arrogance! This is utterly despicable academic arrogance!"

Chris gritted his teeth and slammed his fist on the table.

"This guy who takes advantage of his talent to skip dozens of pages of derivation steps is a cancer in the mathematics world! Doesn't he realize how many innocent doctoral students around the world are losing their hair because of his laziness?!"

Chen Zhuo, who had been quietly eating a sandwich, paused slightly when he heard this impassioned accusation.

He glanced at the messy screenshot of the thesis on the table, then at Chris's receding hairline, a mixture of grief and indignation.

Then, Chen Zhuo picked up his iced Americano, took a sip, and swallowed the food in his mouth.

He turned to look at Chris and nodded with utmost sincerity.

"You're right, I also think this person has absolutely no academic ethics."

Chen Zhuo's voice wasn't loud, but his clear and resonant tone, full of strong conviction, instantly drew the attention of the three struggling doctoral students.

Chris paused for a moment, then turned to look at the Asian youth in the jacket, as if he had suddenly found a comrade in a vast sea of ​​suffering.

"You read this paper too?"

Chris asked tentatively.

"I've seen it."

Chen Zhuo remained expressionless, even displaying a perfectly measured hint of disdain, as he pointed with his finger at the paper on the table bearing the name C. Zhuo.

"This person writes so irresponsibly. Even if it's to save time, you can't skip steps so ridiculously. This is just torturing the reader."

"Right!!!"

Chris was so excited he almost jumped up, grabbed Chen Zhuo's arm, and tears were welling up in his eyes.

"Dude! I knew I wasn't alone! This is outrageous academic bullying! It's an extremely irresponsible and thuggish act!"

Janet nodded frantically, as if she had found a kindred spirit.

"This kind of skipping steps completely violates the spirit of rigorous mathematics! What was he thinking? Why hide the most important calculus bridge in the middle? Is it really to test the academic community?"

"test?"

Chen Zhu chuckled, took another bite of the sandwich, and began to rant and rave as he chewed.

"I think you're overestimating him. He doesn't have the time to test the North American academic community."

The three doctoral students were stunned at the same time, staring at Chen Zhuo in unison.

"Then...why is that?"

The Indian guy asked cautiously.

"I think he's just lazy."

Chen Zhuo shrugged, his tone revealing deep contempt.

"He must have found the remaining high-dimensional redundant variables too troublesome to calculate when he was deriving the paper, and he got stuck and frustrated. In order to finish work early and go eat or sleep, he just randomly picked a constant and cut it off perfunctorily."

Chen Zhuo picked up his iced Americano, took a sip, and delivered his final concluding remarks.

"This is a classic example of egregious personal laziness. As for whether those of you who clean up his mess and provide the necessary documentation will lose your hair, that guy probably hasn't even considered it."

The air on the round table seemed to freeze for a good number of seconds.

Chris, Janet, and the Indian boy looked at each other in bewilderment.

They were used to hearing professors talk about mysterious Eastern mathematical gods, supreme geniuses who looked down on mortals.

Now I suddenly hear people using words like "lazy," "wanting to eat early," and "selfish" to deconstruct the mythologized C. Zhuo...

Their minds were momentarily blank.

"brother......"

Chris swallowed hard, and the way he looked at Chen Zhuo changed.

"Your insight... is quite unique, but upon closer inspection, it's absolutely brilliant! If it's a forced cut-off to cut things off for laziness, then this kind of rogue behavior, devoid of any mathematical aesthetics, completely makes sense!"

Janet also looked enlightened, and she even took out a pen to write down what Chen Zhuo had just said on a draft paper.

"Yes, don't waste your energy."

Chen Zhuo, with good intentions, delivered the fatal blow.

"That place is definitely a fault line; anyone who tries to deduce it is a fool."

"That's brilliant!"

The Indian guy looked at Chen Zhuo with gleam in his eyes.

"Dude, which department are you in? Your thinking is spot on! Are you also a victim of your advisor forcing you to work overtime on weekends?"

Chen Zhu swallowed the last bite of his sandwich and tore off a tissue to wipe his hands.

"Well, I guess so."

Chen Zhuo stood up, picked up the half-finished iced Americano, and spoke calmly and humbly.

"I'm a pure mathematician, and I just happened to be passing by. Seeing how much you're suffering, I thought I'd chat for a bit."

"Pure mathematics? No wonder! Only those with a pure mathematics background could see through this absurd mathematical foundation so thoroughly!"

Chris was so moved that he even stood up to hug Chen Zhuo.

"Brother, thank you for waking us up! If it weren't for you, we might have really died this weekend searching for that non-existent calculus bridge!"

You're too kind.

Chen Zhuo naturally dodged Chris's hug and patted him on the shoulder.

"I hope you can escape this sea of ​​suffering soon. If you encounter an irresponsible author, just criticize them without holding it in."

"must!"

The three doctoral students clenched their fists, united in their hatred of the enemy.

Chen Zhuo nodded and didn't say anything more.

He casually tossed the leftover sandwich wrapper into the nearby trash can, turned around, and continued to stroll slowly along the street covered with fallen leaves.

In the open-air café behind them, the three doctoral students were still engaged in a heated discussion, but the topic had shifted from the search for truth to angrily criticizing C. Zhuo's thuggish behavior...

Chen Zhuo listened to the curses behind him and the corners of his mouth turned up slightly.