My IQ has been increasing year by year.

Eight o'clock in the morning.

The corridors of Van En Building were quiet.

Chen Zhuo pushed open the door to Pierre's office. Pierre was sitting behind his desk, holding a cup of black tea.

"Good morning," Chen Zhuo greeted.

Pierre put down his teacup and pointed to the blackboard on the wall.

"Last night I looked through the last two lines you wrote yesterday, and something didn't seem right."

Chen Zhuo put the backpack he brought on the sofa and walked to the blackboard.

The blackboard was covered with matrices.

"Where?" Chen Zhuo asked.

Pierre stood up, walked to the blackboard, and tapped a corner of a matrix with his finger.

"You forcibly truncated this parameter, but it still has a tiny perturbation on the complex plane. If it is not restricted, the next step of mapping will have problems." Chen Zhuo stared at that parameter for a while.

He went through the logic of what happened before and after in his mind.

"really."

Chen Zhuo nodded.

He picked up the blackboard eraser next to him and erased the second half of the matrix.

Chen Zhuo picked up a piece of white chalk and wrote down a new line of equations.

He added an algebraic constraint.

Pierre stood beside him and watched him finish writing.

"That will do," Pierre said.

He turned and walked back to his desk, picking up his teacup again.

Chen Zhuo did not leave the blackboard.

He looked at the line of equation he had just added and continued writing, following his train of thought.

This job is very boring.

There was no exhilarating feeling of sudden enlightenment, only the alignment of data line by line and the derivation of matrix by matrix.

Enclosing the singularities of the analysis with a discrete grid is like building an impenetrable wall brick by brick.

There must be no gaps.

Chen Zhuo wrote very slowly.

After writing each matrix, he would stop and look at it for a while to make sure there were no problems before continuing to write the next one.

Time passed little by little.

The only sounds in the office were the chalk scratching against the blackboard and Pierre occasionally turning the pages of a paper.

Sunlight streamed in through the window, casting shadows on the floor as they shifted slowly.

Chen Zhuo finished writing on half of the blackboard.

He stopped, put down the chalk, and took two steps back.

Pierre raised his head.

"Is it stuck?" Pierre asked.

"No," Chen Zhuo said.

"I'm just thinking about which coordinate system would be more suitable for the next step of dimensionality reduction mapping."

Pierre put down what he was holding and walked to the blackboard.

He glanced at the half of the blackboard that Chen Zhuo had just written on.

"The brickwork on the ground floor is fairly neat."

Pierre commented.

He picked up the piece of chalk that Chen Zhuo had just put down.

"If we use conventional homology algebra, the mappings here would become very bloated."

Pierre drew a circle in the blank space on the blackboard.

"You can try isolating this variable directly. Since you've already decided to forcibly truncate it, there's no need to keep it." Pierre wrote a few letters next to the circle.

Chen Zhuo looked at the letters Pierre had written.

"Forced dismantling?" Chen Zhuo asked.

"right."

Pierre threw the chalk back onto the table.

"Since you've already become a butcher, don't worry about how good your knife skills are; as long as you can get the bones out, that's enough."

Chen Zhuo smiled.

"Okay, I'll give it a try."

He picked up the chalk again and began to deduce the solution following Pierre's line of thought.

Pierre didn't return to his desk; he just stood there watching.

An old man and a young boy stood in front of the blackboard.

One writes, the other reads.

We exchange a few words occasionally.

There were no heated arguments, no lengthy explanations, just a few simple words or pointing out a spot on the blackboard. The work progressed slowly but steadily.

I don't know how much time passed.

Footsteps came from outside the door.

The footsteps stopped outside the door, followed by two knocks.

"Go in," Pierre said.

The door was pushed open, and Woolley walked in, carrying several folders and a roll of newspaper.

"Good morning, Professor Pierre; good morning, Mr. Chen."

Woolley greeted him in a steady voice.

Good morning, Woolley.

Pierre didn't even turn his head.

Chen Zhuo stopped writing with the chalk and turned around.

Good morning, Mr. Woolley.

Woolley walked to the desk and put down what he was holding.

He moved quickly and efficiently, arranging the folders into categories.

"Professor Pierre, these are the minutes of this week's administrative meeting. They need your signature. Also, the equipment maintenance request for the lab has been approved; workers will be going over in the next day or two," Woolley said. "Okay, leave it there. I'll look at it later," Pierre said.

Wu Li turned to Chen Zhuo.

"Mr. Chen, your allowance account has been processed, and this month's allowance has been deposited into your card. Here is the detailed statement." Wu Li took out an envelope and handed it to Chen Zhuo.

Chen Zhuo walked over and took it.

"Thanks."

"And today's newspaper and a few periodicals."

Woolley pointed to a stack of newspapers on the side of the table.

Chen Zhuo nodded.

Woolley tidied the table and prepared to leave.

Chen Zhuo walked back to his desk, picked up his water glass, and took a sip.

His gaze casually fell on the table.

On top of that stack of newspapers was a sports newspaper from that day.

Page facing up.

It had a large color photograph printed on it.

A Black player wearing a purple and gold jersey.

The number is 8.

Chen Zhuo paused for a moment, holding the water glass.

He looked at the photo.

Yellow jersey with purple trim.

A scene flashed through Chen Zhuo's mind.

Zeyang City.

No. 1 Middle School of the city.

Zhang Qiang was lying on the table, scratching his head and doing physics problems with a bitter face.

And those words before he left.

"You said it, getting into the top high school, and getting an authentic Kobe jersey."

Chen Zhuo put down his water glass and slapped his head.

Since arriving at Princeton, my mind has been filled with discrete matrices and intermediate Jacobian varieties, and I almost forgot about this.

"Mr. Woolley."

Chen Zhuo spoke up, calling out to Wu Li, who was about to leave.

Woolley stopped and turned around.

"Mr. Chen, is there anything else?"

Chen Zhuo pointed to the newspaper on the table.

"Could you do me a small personal favor?"

Chen Zhuo asked, his tone very gentle.

Woolley glanced at the newspaper, then at Chen Zhuo.

"Of course, please go ahead."

Chen Zhuo walked to the table and pointed to the photo in the newspaper.

"I want to buy one of these jerseys, just like the one in the picture, an authentic one."

Woolley pushed up his glasses.

He glanced at the photo of Kobe Bryant.

"Lakers' number 8 jersey."

Woolley confirmed.

"Yes," Chen Zhuo said.

Woolley pulled a notepad and a black fountain pen from his pocket.

Remove the pen cap.

"What size do you need?" Woolley asked.

Chen Zhuo recalled Zhang Qiang's height.

"XXL size, I guess," Chen Zhuo said.

"He's still growing, it's okay if he gets a little older."

Woolley wrote it down in his notepad.

"Okay, do you need it mailed?"

"I need to send it back to China to give to a friend of mine."

Woolley nodded.

Please give me your address.

Chen Zhuo extended his hand to Wu Li.

Woolley handed him the notepad and pen.

Chen Zhuo took a pen and wrote down an address consisting of a combination of English words and pinyin on a piece of paper.

Jinxiu Garden, Zeyang City.

It also includes Zhang Qiang's name and home phone number.

After finishing writing, Chen Zhuo returned the notepad and pen to Wu Li.

"Can the cost of buying the jersey and shipping be deducted directly from my account?" Chen Zhuo asked.

Woolley took the notepad and glanced at the address on it.

The handwriting is very clear.

"Yes, Mr. Chen, I will keep good records and submit them to you at the end of the month along with other details."

Woolley carefully put the notepad into his pocket, his movements still meticulous.

"Thank you for your help."

Chen Zhuo smiled, his voice casual.

"I would have almost forgotten about this if you hadn't delivered these newspapers."

Woolley put the pen back in his breast pocket.

"This is my job, Mr. Chen. I'll give you the tracking number this afternoon."

"Okay, thank you," Chen Zhuo said.

Woolley bowed slightly and turned to look at the person in front of the blackboard.

"Professor Pierre, I'll head out now."

Pierre waved his hand without turning around.

Woolley walked to the door, opened it, went out, and gently closed the door behind him.

The corridor returned to silence.

Chen Zhuo picked up the water glass on the table and drank the remaining half glass of water.

He put the cup back where it was.

My gaze shifted from the sports newspaper back to the huge blackboard.

The blackboard was covered with white equations.

Chen Zhuo walked to the blackboard and picked up a piece of chalk again.

I took a look at the matrix that I had only partially derived earlier.

A new line of algebraic constraints appeared next to the singularity.

Pierre turned his head and looked at the line of formula that Chen Zhuoxin had written.

"This constraint was added rather abruptly."

Pierre pointed to the blackboard.

Chen Zhuo put down his pen.

"fine."

Chen Zhuo looked at the formula on the blackboard.

"All we need to do is frame it; we don't need to consider whether it looks good in a continuous state."

Pierre took two steps closer.

He stared at the line of equations for a while.

"If we continue along this path, the next homology group mapping will become extremely large," Pierre said.

"How do you plan to deal with those extra redundant items?"

Chen Zhuo remained silent.

He took the chalk and found a blank space on the other side of the blackboard.

The chalk scribbled across the blackboard.

He wrote down two new matrices.

Then connect them with an arrow.

"It cancels out directly," Chen Zhuo said.

Pierre looked at the two new matrices.

"This is a very dangerous practice."

Pierre's tone became serious.

"If these two matrices are not perfectly symmetric under certain parameters, you will lose some information, and the whole proof will be ruined." "They are symmetric." Chen Zhuo's tone was very calm.

How can you guarantee that?

Chen Zhuo turned around and looked at Pierre.

"Because when we cut it, we already removed the asymmetrical parts."

Chen Zhuo used chalk to make a dot on the square he had just drawn.

"What remains in the frame must be symmetrical in terms of algebraic structure."

Pierre did not immediately refute this.

He quickly verified Chen Zhuo's statement in his mind.

A few minutes later.

Pierre let out a breath.

"It makes sense in theory."

Pierre nodded.

"But you have to write out the proof that this process must be symmetrical, which is a considerable amount of work."

"I know."

Chen Zhuo turned around and faced the blackboard.

From morning to noon.

The lighting in the office gradually changed.

When Chen Zhuo got tired of writing, he stopped to drink some water.

Pierre sat behind his desk, looking at a journal, occasionally glancing up at the blackboard.

There was little communication between the two.

They are all short sentences.

"A negative sign is missing here."

"Yes, I saw it."

"That matrix can be reduced to one dimension."

"Dimensional reduction can easily lead to the loss of boundary information, so let's keep it for now."

These dry, uninspired conversations could be heard from time to time in the office.

It was 12:30 in the afternoon.

There was another knock on the door.

This time it wasn't Woolley.

She is a staff member at the Fan En Lou restaurant.

He pushed a small food cart and stopped outside the door.

"Professor Pierre, Mr. Chen, your lunch has arrived," the staff member said.

Pierre closed the journal in his hand.

"Put it on the table," Pierre said.

The staff took the two trays to the desk and then pushed the food cart away.

Chen Zhuo stopped writing with the chalk.

He glanced at the blackboard; two-thirds of it was already filled with writing.

He walked to the sink and washed his hands.

After drying his hands, he walked to his desk.

The plate contained grilled chicken breast, salad, and a few slices of bread.

It's a very simple dish.

Chen Zhuo pulled out a chair and sat down, while Pierre had already picked up a fork.

"Rest for a while after you finish eating."

Pierre said as he cut the chicken.

"You don't need to stay in front of the blackboard all afternoon. It's easy to make mistakes if your mind is too tense."

"it is good."

Chen Zhuo picked up a piece of bread and took a bite.

The two ate their lunch quietly.

The only sounds in the office were the clinking of knives and forks against plates.

After finishing his meal, Chen Zhuo tidied up the plates and placed them in the hallway outside the door.

He returned to his office and sat down on the sofa.

The sofa is very soft.

Chen Zhuo leaned back in his chair and closed his eyes.

The dense matrix in my mind slowly faded away.

He didn't think about the next steps of the derivation.

Pierre is right, being too tense is not good.

Chen Zhuo sat quietly on the sofa for half an hour.

1:30 PM.

He opened his eyes.

Pierre was dozing behind his desk.

Chen Zhuo did not wake him.

He stood up, walked to his desk, and picked up his water glass.

The sports newspaper was still sitting on the edge of the table.

Kobe was still making that same pose in the newspaper.

Chen Zhuo picked up the newspaper and glanced at the English report.

The report focused on the Lakers' roster changes for the new season, as well as Kobe's personal condition.

Chen Zhuo casually flipped through two pages.

He wasn't very interested in basketball.

I agreed to give Zhang Qiang the jersey simply because Zhang Qiang liked it.

Chen Zhuo put down the newspaper and walked back to the blackboard, picking up the chalk.

The afternoon work continued.

He continued with the derivation from the morning and began writing the proof that required symmetry.

This part of the derivation is more complicated than the one in the morning, requiring the use of a large number of algebraic and geometric tools.

Chen Zhuo wrote very slowly.

It was a little after 3 p.m.

Pierre woke up.

He rubbed his eyes, picked up the now-cold black tea on the table, and took a sip.

He looked at the blackboard.

Chen Zhuo was standing on the far right of the blackboard, writing down the last few lines of equations.

Pierre stood up and walked to the blackboard.

He read through the entire proof that Chen Zhuo had written that afternoon.

I watched it for a full ten minutes.

Chen Zhuo finished writing the last character and put down his pen.

He took two steps back and stood side by side with Pierre.

"How is it?" Chen Zhuo asked.

Pierre looked at the formula on the blackboard.

"Very meticulous."

Pierre nodded.

"There are no loopholes; the two matrices are indeed symmetrical."

"That's fine then."

Chen Zhu threw the chalk back onto the table.

"But this is only the first singularity."

Pierre turned to look at Chen Zhuo.

"There are countless such singularities throughout the entire intermediate Jacobi cluster."

"One at a time," Chen Zhuo said.

His tone remained calm.

Pierre looked at him.

"You're really not in a hurry at all," Pierre said.

"There's no use in rushing."

Chen Zhuo turned around and walked to the table to pour water.

"Bricks can only be laid one at a time."

Pierre smiled, walked back to his desk, and sat down.

4:30 PM.

Footsteps echoed in the corridor.

Wu Li knocked on the door and came in. He walked up to Chen Zhuo.

"Mr. Chen, the task you assigned has been completed."

Woolley said in a calm voice.

He took a slip of paper out of his pocket and handed it to Chen Zhuo.

"This is the international express tracking number. The jersey has been shipped and is expected to arrive in China in about a week."

Chen Zhuo took the slip of paper and glanced at the order number on it.

"Thank you for your hard work, Mr. Woolley," Chen Zhuo said.

"My job." Woolley bowed slightly.

He turned to look at Pierre.

"Professor Pierre, there are no other administrative arrangements today."

"understood."

Pierre waved his hand.

Woolley turned and walked out of the office.

Chen Zhuo put the note into his pocket.

He glanced out the window.

The sun was already setting in the west, and the sky had turned a pale orange-red.

That's all for today.

Pierre closed the book on the table.

Chen Zhuo nodded.