My IQ has been increasing year by year.

Late August, Zeyang City.

In the last week before I left, a rolling suitcase appeared in the living room.

The box was specially purchased by Liu Xiuying from a department store in the city.

In 2005, when canvas bags and woven plastic bags were still all the rage, this hard-shell suitcase with a combination lock and smooth wheels stood out. Half-open, it sat between the TV cabinet and the coffee table, becoming an unavoidable object in the living room.

When Chen Jianguo got home from get off work, he first went to the balcony to look at the potted green ivy, then went back to the living room and stared at the box for a while.

"Not finished stuffing yet?" Chen Jianguo asked.

Liu Xiuying came out of the bathroom, holding several towels that had just dried.

"It's still early."

Liu Xiuying squatted down, folded the towel into a neat square, and stuffed it into the mesh bag of the box.

"I have to calculate it bit by bit; I have to make room for his clothes, towels, toothbrushes, and everything else."

Chen Jianguo walked to Yang's sliding door, opened it a crack, and looked downstairs.

"Xiuying, don't you think it's been unusually quiet outside these past two days?"

Chen Jianguo didn't turn around; his voice was somewhat muffled.

Liu Xiuying's hands didn't stop moving.

"Isn't it better to be quiet? It saves those big trucks from honking their horns and making a racket. Didn't you complain every day about how loud the horn of the scrap collector was? Now that they're not coming, you're not used to it." "No."

Chen Jianguo scratched his head.

"I mean, this is unusually quiet. Look at that road construction sign at the intersection, it's been there for a week and no one's been working on it, but those big trucks just don't drive here anymore." Chen Zhuo was sitting at the dining table, holding a plastic basin in his hand, which was half full of peeled garlic.

"Dad, it's probably because the city planning has changed."

Chen Zhuo responded softly, his tone gentle.

"It'll naturally get noisy once the road construction starts."

"Maybe."

Chen Jianguo looked away and closed the sliding door.

"Who cares? It's definitely better to have some peace and quiet. You'll be able to get a good night's sleep these next few days."

Chen Jianguo sat down on the sofa and picked up his teacup.

On the coffee table, there was a copy of the "Annals of Mathematics".

There were two drops of an unknown liquid on the cover, which Zhang Qiang accidentally spilled on when he was eating ice cream.

Liu Xiuying stood up, looked at the coffee table, and then at her suitcase.

"Xiao Zhuo, are you taking this big, thick book with you?"

Chen Zhuo looked up and glanced at it.

"Anything is fine."

Liu Xiuying walked over and reached out to weigh the book in her hand.

"This is heavy. Can't we buy these foreign books over there?"

"You should be able to buy it."

Chen Zhuo replied.

"Then let's keep it with us."

Liu Xiuying hugged it to her chest and walked to the suitcase.

"What if you can't buy it there, or the people there lie to you because you're young and refuse to sell it to you?"

She neatly placed the thick mathematics journal at the very bottom of her suitcase.

The hard back cover of the book neatly concealed the two protruding metal rods inside the suitcase.

"That's good."

Liu Xiuying muttered to herself.

"This book is very sturdy. I'll put those two vacuum-sealed bottles of beef sauce on it later, and they won't break no matter how much I bump them."

Chen Zhuo smiled as he watched the scene unfold.

Its current purpose is to protect the two bottles of beef sauce.

pretty good.

In the evening, there was a knock on the door.

The knocking was obvious; I knew without even guessing it was Zhang Qiang.

Chen Jianguo opened the door.

Zhang Qiang stood at the door, sweating profusely, pushing his old-fashioned bicycle.

"Uncle Chen, I'm going to pick up Brother Zhuo and take him out for a walk."

Zhang Qiang wore a red jersey with the Jordan logo, which was one of the rewards he received for getting into the top high school.

Although the clothes clung to his body after he was drenched in sweat and looked a bit comical, he clearly didn't care.

Chen Jianguo turned to the side.

"Come back soon, it's so late."

"Don't worry, it's just over in the old town."

Zhang Qiang shouted at the top of his lungs.

"Brother Zhuo! Let's go!"

Chen Zhuo put down the garlic bowl in his hand and went to the bathroom to wash his hands.

He changed into a pair of sneakers that his mother had washed until they were a little faded.

"Xiao Zhuo, bring a jacket."

Liu Xiuying called from inside the house.

"Mom, it's over 30 degrees Celsius."

"It's windy over there."

Liu Xiuying stubbornly handed over a thin coat.

Chen Zhuo took it, draped it over his arm, and didn't argue anymore.

The two went downstairs.

In Zeyang, the sky at dusk is a deep blue with a purplish-red hue.

The air was still stuffy, but occasionally a breeze would blow through.

Zhang Qiang straddled his bicycle, his feet touching the ground.

"Come on up, Brother Zhuo, I'll take you to a good place."

Chen Zhuo sat on the back of the bicycle.

The metal frame on the back seat was a bit worn, and it made a slight noise as the bicycle swayed.

Zhang Qiang rode with great effort, and the sound of the chain and gears rubbing together was particularly clear in the quiet neighborhood.

"Have you noticed? All the street vendors have disappeared these past two days."

Zhang Qiang spoke as he pedaled, panting heavily.

"They probably went to another street."

Chen Zhuo watched the shadows of the sycamore trees passing by on the roadside.

"No, I heard from my dad that the city is currently carrying out a campaign to build a civilized city, and all those non-compliant items have been cleared out."

Zhang Qiang chuckled twice.

"Even the owner of the record store who used to keep asking me if I wanted any CDs has closed down."

"It's nice, quiet."

The bicycle turned into the old street of Zeyang.

The area hasn't been demolished yet; the road is paved with bluestone slabs, and some parts are already cracked.

The houses on both sides of the road are old-style buildings with blue bricks and gray tiles, and thick moss grows at the base of the walls.

The smell of cooking oil began to permeate the air.

That's the unique flavor of the old street, a mixture of coal smoke, aged vinegar, and the aroma of snacks.

Zhang Qiang stopped in front of a fried food stall at a corner.

The stall was very simple.

A stove made from a tricycle, with a blackened oil can, and various kinds of skewers in a basin next to it.

The stall owner was a middle-aged man wearing an apron, who was stirring the oil in a wok with a large iron spatula.

"Uncle Wang, two starch sausages, and four yuan's worth of vegetarian chicken."

Zhang Qiang generously pulled out five yuan.

"Okay."

The stall owner didn't even look up, skillfully tossing the skewers into the boiling oil.

The oil sizzled and white smoke rose into the air.

Zhang Qiang pulled Chen Zhuo to sit on two small plastic stools behind the stall.

The bench was very low, and both of their legs were tucked in.

"Brother Zhuo, please have this."

Zhang Qiang took two fried starch sausages, charred black and covered in chili, from the stall owner and handed one to Chen Zhuo.

Chen Zhuo took it and looked at the cracks that had appeared on the sausage.

"It's a little burnt..."

"So what if it's burnt? Burnt food is the best!"

Zhang Qiang took a big bite first, and hissed as he was burned.

"Let me tell you, this is the soul of Zeyang. I heard from them that in the US, all they eat are hamburgers and pizzas, and even raw vegetables. What's the point of eating that stuff?" Zhang Qiang mumbled between chewing bites.

"When you go over there, you definitely won't be able to taste this gutter oil flavor. The oil there must be as clean as water, not as fragrant as ours. Eat more now, remember this taste, so you won't miss home when you get there." Chen Zhuo looked at Zhang Qiang's serious face and took a bite as well.

"It's quite delicious."

Chen Zhuo nodded, his tone gentle.

"Right!"

Zhang Qiang swung his leg triumphantly.

I knew you'd like it.

The two of them sat there, watching the pedestrians on the old street.

There was an old man shirtless carrying a birdcage, a worker riding a motorcycle after get off work, and a few children playing around with their schoolbags on their backs. Everyone was ordinary, busy with their own lives.

No one knew Chen Zhuo, nor did anyone know that this boy sitting on a plastic stool eating rice noodles was about to go to Princeton.

By the time we finished eating the fried skewers, it was completely dark.

The streetlights on the old street were dim, and some bulbs were broken, causing them to flicker.

Zhang Qiang pushed his bicycle, and Chen Zhuo walked beside him.

"I tried on the school uniform from No. 1 Middle School."

Zhang Qiang suddenly spoke, his voice much lower than before.

"Does it fit?"

"It's a bit big, but my mom says it's better if it's big, so I can wear it for three years."

Zhang Qiang looked down at his toes.

"Brother Zhuo, now that I've gotten into the top high school, who should I call if I can't solve a physics problem?"

"I've kept that notebook for you; it's all in there."

"That's different."

Zhang Qiang stopped in his tracks.

"The author won't scold me or mention Qiangzi to me, so I need to add an auxiliary line here."

Chen Zhuo looked at him.

"Zhang Qiang, you've already been admitted to No. 1 High School, which means you don't need my teaching to go far."

Forget it.

Zhang Qiang chuckled self-deprecatingly.

"I was just lucky. If it weren't for the coloring method you taught me during the Chinese New Year, I would have been completely stumped on the last big question."

The two walked out of the old street and came to the big intersection they had to pass through on their way home.

The traffic light is changing.

The green light reflected on the road surface, then jumped to red.

Zhang Qiang stopped and didn't move forward.

He stared at the red light and remained silent for a long time.

The wind rustled through the roadside trees.

"Brother Zhuo."

"Um."

Zhang Qiang kicked the bicycle stand down, making a crisp click.

He turned his head and looked at Chen Zhuo, the streetlights casting his shadow long and thin.

Zhang Qiang reached up and scratched the back of his head, his movements somewhat hesitant.

"Um... I've never been abroad either, but my dad told me that people there are all quite tall and strong."

He paused for a moment, as if organizing his thoughts.

"You're so young and look so refined. What if people over there bully you? What if they take advantage of your size and strength to prevent you from entering the library, or deliberately throw away your thesis? What will you do then?"

Chen Zhuo wanted to tell him that no one at Princeton would dare to do that, that Professor Pierre would take care of him, and that Princeton would likely treat him like a treasure. But he didn't say it.

Before he could answer, Zhang Qiang suddenly strode over and patted Chen Zhuo's shoulder heavily.

The force was so great that half of Chen Zhuo's body went numb.

"Brother Zhuo, remember this."

Zhang Qiang had a serious expression, with a stubborn look in his eyes.

"If you suffer any injustice or are bullied over there, you must give me a call. Although I'm not as educated as you and I can't go to America, I can still help you scold him." He waved his fist, his tone quite aggressive.

"I can curse people fiercely. I can curse them for three days and three nights in our Zeyang dialect without repeating myself. I can curse their ancestors for eighteen generations. Don't believe me? I'm famous for it in the junior high school section of No. 1 Middle School." Chen Zhuo looked at the boy in front of him.

Zhang Qiang's jersey collar was askew, and there were still sweat stains on his forehead from eating fried skewers.

But the truth he held in his eyes was without any impurities.

No logic, no formulas, and certainly no high-dimensional homology algebra is needed.

"it is good."

Chen Zhuo smiled, his eyes clear as jade.

"I've got it. If anyone bullies me, I'll call you."

"We absolutely have to fight!"

Zhang Qiang added another word of advice, still feeling uneasy.

"Don't bear it all alone; you're all alone out there."

"must."

The green light is on.

Zhang Qiang got back on the vehicle.

"Let's go! Uncle Chen will glare at me if I get back late."

The bicycle glided swiftly into the night.

The moths under the streetlights are still fluttering tirelessly.

When I got home, the living room light was still on.

Chen Jianguo is watching the evening news.

Liu Xiuying was still squatting next to the suitcase.

The box is almost full.

"Xiao Zhuo, come and take a look."

Liu Xiuying waved to him.

"Look at this jar of beef sauce. I used your book to place it underneath, and stuffed your thick sweater on both sides. I just shook it, and it didn't make a sound at all. It's perfectly stable." Chen Zhuo walked over.

He looked down at the suitcase.

At the very bottom is the "Annals of Mathematics".

Above are two bright red bottles filled with large chunks of homemade sauce.

Next to it were cold medicine, painkillers, and a Jay Chou CD that Zhang Qiang had given him.

"That's fine, Mom."

Chen Zhuo squatted down and helped Liu Xiuying zip up her jacket.

The sound of the zipper sliding down was long, carrying a sense of settled dust.

He stood up and walked to the sunny side.

The city of Zeyang outside remained quiet.

There were no truck horns, no vendors hawking their wares.

The breeze was indeed quite pleasant on this summer night.