My IQ has been increasing year by year.

Chen Zhuo sat in the seat furthest to the side.

There was half a hamburger and a Coke in front of him.

He ate slowly, listening to Liu Kai and the others brag in a half-hearted manner.

It's noisy inside KFC.

Besides these students from out of town who were wearing the same school uniform and were somewhat conspicuous, there were also quite a few students from the provincial capital.

Most of them were in small groups of two or three, wearing Nike or Adidas, chatting about new sneakers or online games.

Chen Zhuo chewed on a straw, his gaze wandering aimlessly around the restaurant.

Then he stopped.

My gaze fell on the corner, right next to the floor-to-ceiling window.

There was a girl sitting there.

He looked to be about the same age as them, wearing a loose light blue short-sleeved shirt with a few small words embroidered on the collar.

Provincial Experimental High School.

In Wang Yang's eyes, this outfit now has its own halo.

But the current state of this illustrious figure is truly perplexing.

In this KFC, where the volume exceeds 80 decibels and children scream and plates clatter everywhere.

She lay face down on the table.

go to bed.

The table was spotless; there was no family bucket or fries.

There was only a glass of Coke that had long since cooled down. Water droplets dripped down the inside of the glass, forming a small puddle on the table, almost soaking her sleeves.

Her schoolbag was carelessly tossed at her feet, the zipper undone and wide open.

Half a corner of a book was sticking out of the schoolbag.

And that blue book that Wang Yang and his friends envied so much.

But at this moment, she used it as a pad under her elbow to prevent slipping.

The corners of the book were all curled up, and it might even have some oil stains from the table.

She was sleeping soundly.

Her face was buried in her arms, revealing only a section of her fair nape and slightly messy short hair. Her shoulders rose and fell slightly with her breathing.

He has a reckless and unruly attitude that clashes with the fast-paced, greasy atmosphere around him.

It's like a cat that's exhausted, finding a warm place to curl up and ignoring everything else.

Chen Zhuo raised an eyebrow.

The provincial competition starts tomorrow.

Even while eating fried chicken, Wang Yang, representing the No. 1 Middle School team, was still glancing at a piece of formula paper he had pulled out of his pocket.

The other teams from the provincial experimental team, though they looked relaxed, were also gathered together to discuss the problem, and some were even drawing diagrams on napkins.

Only this one.

I'm catching up on sleep here.

And it looks like he's been asleep for a while, his hair is all frizzy.

"Team leader, what are you looking at?"

Zhao Chen, with a French fry dangling from his mouth, followed Chen Zhuo's gaze.

"Oh, from the provincial laboratory."

Zhao Chen lowered his voice, his tone tinged with surprise, but he no longer seemed as awe-inspiring as before.

"This girl is so carefree, she can fall asleep like this? Is she too tired from studying?"

"Maybe."

Chen Zhuo looked away and took a sip of cola.

At that moment, the girl in the corner stirred.

It seems she's had enough sleep.

Or perhaps they were woken up by a scream from a child nearby.

She slowly straightened up.

Chen Zhuo saw her profile; there was a red mark on her face from being pressed down by her sleeve, and a tuft of hair stuck up like a cowlick.

She looked a little dazed and a little embarrassed.

His eyes were unfocused and glazed over.

She raised her hand and wiped the corner of her mouth, as if to check if she was drooling.

Then, she glanced at the digital watch on her wrist.

The movement suddenly stopped.

It seems I misread the time, or I'm about to be late.

She jumped up suddenly, grabbed her schoolbag from the table, and slung it haphazardly over her shoulder.

The blue book flew out, and she hurriedly stuffed it back in, even folding the cover.

She grabbed her schoolbag and ran.

As I ran, the strap of my backpack snagged on a chair, making a loud clatter.

She didn't turn around, but just staggered out.

Like a dazed fool who had just woken up, she walked through the noisy crowd, pushed open the glass door, and disappeared into the night of the provincial capital.

He was just a passerby from beginning to end.

A sleepy, somewhat disheveled, and even a bit reckless passerby.

"A strange person."

Zhao Chen muttered something and turned to grab the last chicken wing.

"Never mind, let's get this chicken!"

Chen Zhuo looked at the swaying reflection on the glass door and finished the last sip of his cola.

He didn't speak.

I just think this state of being is pretty good.

To be able to sleep so soundly on the eve of such a tense competition is a skill in itself.

The books are all crushed; it seems this person doesn't take good care of books.

Good.

......

8:30 p.m.

The Provincial Education Commission Guesthouse, at the end of the corridor on the third floor.

Room 306.

This is a standard double room.

Two wooden single beds painted with clear varnish, with a veneer bedside table sandwiched between them.

The carpet was dark red and a bit old, feeling stuffy underfoot. A faint, distinctive guesthouse smell, a mixture of stale tobacco and disinfectant, filled the air.

The curtains were drawn tightly, blocking out the bustling neon lights and traffic noise of the provincial capital.

Only one table lamp was on in the room.

Under the dim yellow light, Wang Yang was sitting cross-legged on the bed.

He didn't take off his shoes; his Feiyue sneakers were still hanging on his feet. He looked like an old monk in deep meditation, but his body was swaying uncontrollably.

"Splash... splash..."

That's the sound of pages turning.

"Do do do..."

That's the sound of heels hitting the edge of the bed.

Wang Yang gripped the book "Classic Exam Questions" tightly in his hand, staring at the pages, muttering to himself at a speed that sounded like a spell.

"The converse of Ptolemy's theorem... a cyclic quadrilateral... no, what if they are concyclic..."

He's been in this state for half an hour now.

The more I looked at it, the more panicked I became; the more I memorized it, the more I felt like my mind was empty.

The happiness he felt while eating at KFC had now turned into stomach acid called pre-exam anxiety, making him feel unwell.

Chen Zhuo lay on the bed by the window, his hands behind his head.

He held a copy of "Science Fiction World" that he had bought from the newsstand downstairs, but he didn't read a single word of it.

The commotion on the other side was really too big.

That's not just noise; it's a contagious feeling of anxiety.

Wang Yang is like a computer whose CPU is about to burn out; the fan is spinning wildly, but the screen is full of blue screen gibberish.

Chen Zhuo sighed.

He sat up, rolled up the magazine, and tossed it aside.

As someone who's been through it all, he understands this situation all too well.

If you tell him to "relax" or "don't be nervous" at this point, that's just easy for someone who's not in his shoes to say it.

For these teenagers who value competition more than life itself, if you let them sleep now, they can stay awake until dawn.

We need to find him something to do.

Find something that doesn't require deep thinking but still demands full concentration, and loosen that string that's about to snap.

Chen Zhuo got out of bed and stepped barefoot onto the carpet.

He walked up to his backpack, unzipped the outermost zipper, and pulled out a rectangular cardboard box.

A deck of cards.

I bought this on a whim when I bought water at the convenience store this afternoon. The back is printed with the Ten Scenes of West Lake. It costs two yuan a set, and the paper is a bit rough.

"Brother Yang."

Chen Zhuo called out.

There was no response; Wang Yang was still there, inscribed in a quadrilateral.

"Wang Yang!"

Chen Zhuo raised his voice and slammed the deck of cards onto the bedside table with a loud thud.

Wang Yang shuddered suddenly, as if he had been electrocuted, and looked up blankly.

His gaze was fixed, and it took him several seconds to make out Chen Zhuo's face.

"Huh? What...what's wrong? Old Zhao's here?"

He instinctively reached out to stuff the book under his pillow.

"Old Zhao didn't come."

Chen Zhuo said as he unwrapped the playing cards.

"Stop memorizing. Your brain is already overloaded. If you keep memorizing, it's like pouring water into a full glass and spilling it all."

"No, that won't work..."

Wang Yang frowned and scratched his already messy hair.

"I think I've forgotten Menelaus' theorem; that diagram just won't come to mind..."

"If you forget, you forget. It's not even going to be on the exam tomorrow."

Chen Zhuo skillfully shuffled the cards, the clattering sound particularly crisp in the quiet room.

"Get down."

"What are you doing?"

"To do great things."