My IQ has been increasing year by year.

The plane's landing gear slammed heavily onto the runway.

A violent tremor came from inside the cabin.

Immediately afterwards, the enormous roar of the engine's reverse thrust drowned out all other sounds.

The plane taxied at high speed on the runway, then its speed was forcibly reduced. The scenery outside the window gradually changed from blurry horizontal lines to clear views of lawns and taxiway indicator lights. An announcement came over the intercom that the flight attendant had landed safely at New York's John F. Kennedy International Airport, along with the local time and ground temperature. The plane slowly turned on the taxiway, heading towards its parking position at the terminal.

In first class, Miao Shi'an removed the blindfold from his face, pinched the bridge of his nose, and turned to look out the window.

The sunlight outside was blinding.

The afternoon in New York was sunny and clear.

The terminal's massive glass curtain wall gleamed in the sunlight, and in the distance, several passenger planes bearing the logos of different airlines were taking off and landing. Chen Zhuo also lifted the thin blanket covering his legs, folded it neatly, and placed it on the armrest of his seat.

In first class, a flight attendant pushed a cart over and collected the water cups and towels from the passengers' hands.

When the flight attendant reached Chen Zhuo and Miao Shi'an's seats, she stopped.

She smiled and handed over two cardboard cards with gold stripes printed on the edges.

"Mr. Miao, Mr. Chen, this is your fast-track clearance invitation card. After disembarking, you can use the first-class priority customs lane with this card." "Thank you."

Chen Zhuo reached out and took the card; it had the words "Fast Track" on it.

The plane came to a smooth stop at the jet bridge connection.

The roar of the engine subsided.

The seatbelt indicator light beeped and changed from red to green.

Chen Zhuo stood up and opened the overhead luggage compartment.

He took his bag off and slung it over one shoulder, while Miao Shi'an next to him also picked up his own shoulder bag.

The first-class cabin door opens first.

The two walked forward following the yellow priority lane signs overhead.

After walking for more than ten minutes, an empty downward escalator appeared ahead.

After descending the escalator, you'll reach the customs and arrival hall of JFK Airport.

A huge serpentine passageway was created in the center of the hall using yellow barriers.

By this time, a long queue had already formed inside the cordon.

Hundreds of passengers who had just disembarked from the plane crowded into the queue. Some were pushing their carry-on suitcases, while others were looking down at the documents in their hands. The voices of people of various skin colors and languages ​​mingled together, making the whole space noisy and crowded.

Chen Zhuo and Miao Shi'an did not walk into that crowd.

Holding the card given to them by the flight attendant, they followed the signs on the far right of the hall and headed directly to the priority lane with the fewest people.

This passageway is very empty.

There were only three or four other people ahead of me who also had fast pass cards.

Two or three minutes later, it was Chen Zhuo's turn.

"Next."

The customs officer inside the glass window called out.

Chen Zhuo stepped forward and handed over his passport, Form I-20, customs declaration form, and the fast-track pass.

The customs officer was a middle-aged white man with a shiny bald head that seemed to reflect light. He took the clearance card, then took the passport and opened it. He glanced at the photo in the passport, then looked up at Chen Zhuo.

"What is your purpose in coming to America?"

The official asked the question in a perfunctory manner.

"read."

Which school?

Princeton University.

The official glanced down at the school name on the I-20 form and confirmed it was correct.

He tapped a few keys on the computer keyboard.

His gaze then fell on the customs declaration form filled out by Chen Zhuo.

"You declared the food you were carrying with you."

The official raised his head and looked into Chen Zhuo's eyes.

"What's in your checked luggage?"

"Change of clothes."

Chen Zhuo did not pause.

"There are also two bottles of beef sauce that my mother made in her hometown."

The official looked at him for two seconds.

"Bang."

The entry stamp was firmly stamped on the visa page of the passport.

The official pushed the passport and I-20 form back together from the recess under the window.

Welcome to America.

"Thanks."

Chen Zhuo picked up his passport and carefully placed the documents into the inner pocket of his backpack.

He walked through the customs gate and stopped in an open area in front of him.

Less than half a minute later, Miao Shi'an also came over with his passport.

The two did not linger and followed the signs ahead, taking the descending escalator to the baggage claim hall.

Dozens of huge metal luggage carousels were lined up in the lobby.

Chen Zhuo looked up at the flight number on the electronic screen and walked to carousel number six.

He went to the nearby trolley storage area and pulled over a metal luggage cart.

There weren't many people around the baggage carousel yet; most of the passengers who had been queuing in the long customs line hadn't cleared customs yet.

I waited for more than a minute.

The number six turntable emitted a beeping alarm, and the warning light on top flashed.

The conveyor belt began to rotate slowly.

As first-class passengers, their checked baggage was among the first to be sent out.

Seven or eight pieces of luggage slid down the internal conveyor belt onto the external turntable.

Miao Shian's suitcase was among them, with a glaring fluorescent priority label hanging on its handle.

He stepped forward, reached out, lifted the box, and placed it on the ground.

A few seats away, a black suitcase was also turned out.

The same fluorescent priority label was also hanging on the handle.

Chen Zhuo stepped forward and grasped the handles on the side and top of the box with both hands.

Use your arm to exert force.

He lifted the heavy box, filled with clothes, two glass jars of beef sauce, and a copy of the *Annals of Mathematics* used as a base, and placed it steadily on the cart. "Let's go."

Chen Zhuo held onto the handles of the cart with both hands.

Miao Shi'an nodded and picked up his suitcase.

The two pushed their luggage toward the exit of the arrival hall.

The automatic glass doors open smoothly to both sides.

The sounds from outside suddenly rushed in.

The sounds of horns, voices, and the rolling of cart wheels mingled together.

This is the busiest arrival exit at JFK Airport.

A long metal railing surrounds the arrival gate.

The area behind the railing was crowded with people; some were holding up whiteboards with their names written in English, while others were peering into the passageway.

Chen Zhuo pushed the cart out.

His gaze swept across the crowd.

Miao Shi'an walked to his left, his gaze casually sweeping over the crowd outside the railing.

A few seconds later, Miao Shi'an's gaze stopped.

At the far right edge of the crowd waiting to greet people at the airport, near a concrete pillar, stood a person.

An elderly man with a full head of white hair.

He wore a brown casual jacket over a light-colored shirt, without a tie, and a pair of reading glasses perched on his nose.

The elderly man was not accompanied by any people, nor was he holding up any sign to welcome people from the airport.

He stood quietly outside the railing, his hands casually placed in front of him, his gaze gentle as he watched the flow of people pouring out of the exit. Miao Shi'an stopped in his tracks.

He recognized the old man.

As someone who was about to study international relations and technology strategy at MIT, he certainly knew Pierre Deligne.

Miao Shi'an was not surprised, nor did he show any intention of going up to greet him or strike up a conversation.

He loosened his grip on the suitcase and pulled the backpack on his shoulder up a bit.

"Your people have arrived."

Miao Shi'an turned his head and looked at Chen Zhuo, his tone as carefree as ever.

Chen Zhuo followed his gaze and saw Pierre standing next to the pillar.

Chen Zhuo nodded.

"The airline's shuttle bus is waiting for me outside."

Miao Shi'an took out his phone and glanced at it.

"I'm going to Manhattan to sleep, adjust to the time difference, and get back in touch."

He looked at Chen Zhuo and smiled.

"Don't forget the dinner you owe me."

"it is good."

Chen Zhuo responded gently.

"Be careful on the road."

Miao Shi'an did not stay any longer.

He turned around, pulled his suitcase, and walked towards the VIP shuttle passage outside the arrival hall.

A black limousine was parked there.

The driver, dressed in a black suit, saw him, immediately walked over, took the suitcase from his hand, and opened the back door of the car.

Miao Shi'an lowered his head and sat down inside.

The car door closed, and the sedan smoothly drove away from the terminal.

Chen Zhuo withdrew his gaze.

He pushed the metal luggage cart with both hands, dodging the scattered handbags on the ground and the hurried travelers, and walked straight towards the old man standing next to the pillar. He reached the gap in the railing.

Pierre also saw Chen Zhuo.

The old man lowered his clasped hands, took off his reading glasses from the bridge of his nose, and put them into his jacket pocket.

Chen Zhuo stopped pushing the cart.

"teacher."

Chen Zhuo greeted him softly, with his usual gentle tone.

Pierre looked at the fourteen-year-old Eastern boy in front of him.

He had grown taller, and the calmness in his eyes was exactly the same as when I first met him more than a year ago in the old library of USTC.

Pierre smiled.

There was no exaggerated embrace, as is common in Western academic circles, nor any lengthy welcome speech.

Pierre stepped forward, extended his right hand, and gently patted Chen Zhuo's arm twice.

"You must be tired from the journey, child."

Pierre looked him in the eyes, his tone like that of an ordinary grandfather waiting for his grandson to come home.

Welcome to America.

"Thank you, teacher."

Chen Zhuo nodded politely.

"The flight went smoothly."

"Let's go, the car is parked outside."

Pierre turned around and walked ahead.

Chen Zhuo followed behind, pushing a luggage cart.

The two walked through the terminal building's main entrance and out of the air-conditioned room.

In early September, the air in New York still carried the sweltering heat of late summer.

The driveway outside the airport was packed with cars, horns blaring, and traffic police were directing traffic at the intersection.

They crossed two pedestrian crossings and entered the airport's open-air parking lot.

The parking lot was large, and the sun shone brightly on the road without any shade, making it somewhat dazzling.

Pierre stopped in front of an older Volvo.

The car is dark gray, the style is a bit old, and the body is not very shiny, but it is very clean.

Pierre took his car keys out of his pocket and pressed a button.

The car lights flashed twice, and the lock was unlocked.

Pierre walked to the back of the car and opened the trunk.

Chen Zhuo pushed the luggage cart to the back of the car.

He didn't let Pierre do it; instead, he bent down, grabbed the top and bottom handles of the suitcase with both hands, and with a strong effort, lifted the heavy suitcase. He then placed the suitcase into the flat trunk.

"Get in the car."

Pierre opened the driver's seat door and got in.

Chen Zhuo walked around to the other side, opened the passenger door, and got into the car.

There was a faint fragrance in the carriage, and the seats were made of fabric, giving them a slightly vintage feel.

Pierre inserted the key into the ignition, turned it, and casually turned on the car's air conditioning. Cold air blew out of the vents, dispelling the slight heat he had picked up while walking outside. Pierre shifted into gear and released the handbrake.

The Volvo slowly pulled out of the parking space and drove out along the exit lane of the parking lot.

After paying the parking fee at the toll booth, the car merged into the main road leading away from the airport.

The carriage was very quiet.

The sound insulation is quite good; it blocks out most of the noise from outside loudspeakers.

"Does the air conditioning make you feel cold?"

Pierre glanced at the road ahead, gripped the steering wheel with both hands, and casually remarked something.

"No, that's perfect," Chen Zhuo replied.

The Volvo drove onto the highway.

This is the main road connecting New York and New Jersey.

There were so many cars on the road that the speed was slow, and the road kept stopping and starting.

Chen Zhuo sat in the passenger seat, looking out the window.

The view is typical of the suburbs of New York City.

Huge viaducts crisscross the landscape, beneath which lie dilapidated red-brick factories and graffiti walls.

In the distance, the towering skyscrapers of Manhattan resemble a gray steel jungle piercing the clouds.

Huge "GG" signs lined both sides of the road, rushing past at breakneck speed.

Pierre drove very steadily, without sudden braking or honking to urge the car in front to move.

There was no music playing in the car.

More than half an hour later.

The car drove out of the congested streets of New York City and onto the interstate highway heading towards New Jersey.

The car gradually picked up speed.

The scenery outside the car window began to change noticeably.

Those dense, oppressive steel buildings have disappeared. In their place are vast expanses of green forests lining both sides of the roads. New Jersey is known as the Garden State because of its exceptionally high vegetation cover.

Sunlight filtered through the leaves, casting dappled shadows on the road, occasionally revealing distant lawns and white-roofed wooden houses. The view opened up, and the air seemed less crowded.

Pierre would occasionally glance in the rearview mirror, but he didn't initiate any conversation.

He didn't ask Chen Zhuo about his future academic plans, nor did he ask how he spent that summer in China.

He simply drove quietly, taking the boy who had come from afar back to Princeton.

The more than one-hour drive passed in silence and the sound of tires turning.

The sign ahead displayed the name Princeton.

Pierre turned on the turn signal, and the Volvo drove off the interstate and down a ramp.

The car entered the town of Princeton.

The streets here are not wide, but they are very clean.

Tall oak trees line both sides of the road, their canopies meeting above the street to form a natural green tunnel.

The street is lined with rows of old-fashioned red brick buildings, some of which are covered with green ivy.

There weren't many pedestrians on the road.

Occasionally, students with backpacks ride by on bicycles, or someone walks a dog on the sidewalk.

The whole town exudes a peaceful and tranquil atmosphere.

The Volvo drove through the town's streets, making two turns.

Finally, the car entered a quieter residential street.

Pierre braked in front of a detached villa with a garden.

The villa is a two-and-a-half-story structure with light gray wooden planks on the exterior walls and dark tiles on the roof.

The yard is surrounded by a low white wooden fence, and the lawn is neatly trimmed without a single weed.

There were two rattan chairs under the porch, and a white wooden mailbox next to them.

It's so quiet here that the only sound is the rustling of leaves in the breeze.

Pierre parked the car steadily in the driveway outside the yard.

Chen Zhuo unbuckled his seatbelt, pushed open the door, and got out of the car.

He stood beside the car and glanced at the villa surrounded by green trees.

Pierre walked to the back of the car and opened the trunk with the key.

Chen Zhuo walked over, picked up the suitcase with both hands, and put it on the ground.

Pierre closed the trunk.

"Let's go."