My IQ has been increasing year by year.

South of Zeyang City.

Half of the snow on the roadside had melted, mixed with rotten vegetable leaves and red firecracker paper left over from the morning market.

Zhang Qiang walked ahead, his hands tightly tucked into his down jacket pockets, his neck hunched.

He led Chen Zhu through a maze of turns, into an old alleyway in a residential compound, and stopped in front of a semi-basement shop without even a sign. Above the door hung only a small, peeling wooden sign with the words "Feiyu Computer Typing and Copying" crookedly written in red paint.

"This place is incredibly well hidden; it took me several days to find it."

Zhang Qiang lowered his voice and skillfully lifted the heavy curtain at the doorway.

As soon as the curtain was lifted, a strong smell of smoke, instant noodles, and hair oil mingled together, and the heat hit my face.

The basement was dimly lit, and one of the fluorescent light tubes on the ceiling was broken, flickering every now and then.

Dozens of bulky monitors were arranged in four rows, their screen light shining on young and excited faces.

The passageway was narrow, and the ground was littered with flattened cigarette boxes and sunflower seed shells.

The sounds of keyboard clicks and mouse clicks blended together, while the speakers occasionally emitted the screams of characters being hit in "Legend of Mir" or the classic "Fire in the hole" from Counter-Strike. At the very back, there were actually just two old school desks pushed together.

The boss was a bald man in his thirties, wearing an old military overcoat, with half a cigarette dangling from his mouth. He was staring intently at a blockbuster movie on the screen in front of him, a roll of paper lying beside him. "Boss, turn on two machines, one next to the other."

Zhang Qiang leaned over, pulled a crumpled wad of banknotes from his pocket, and slapped it onto the table along with a handful of one-cent steel cakes.

The boss glanced at Zhang Qiang, then looked at Chen Zhuo standing behind him, whose face was mostly hidden in his scarf.

The boss didn't touch the money on the table, but exhaled a smoke ring.

"You don't have an ID card, do you?"

"without."

Zhang Qiang answered confidently and pushed the money on the table forward.

"I'll book three hours, and you can have two bottles of Coke in glass bottles with the remaining money."

The boss was too lazy to waste words; he'd seen plenty of kids like this running around during the holidays.

He pulled a screwdriver from the drawer, pried open two bottles of Coke, and casually pushed them over.

"There are no more adjacent seats. There are two more near the toilet, separated by an aisle, numbers 14 and 16. I won't give you any slips; just turn it on from the main unit. It will automatically lock when the time is up." The boss said, tapping the keyboard twice and swiping the change on the table into the drawer.

Zhang Qiang picked up two bottles of Coke that were still emitting cold air and handed one to Chen Zhuo.

"Let's go, it's quieter over there at the restroom."

Chen Zhuo took the cola and followed Zhang Qiang inside, turning sideways to avoid the legs sticking out of the aisle.

Machines 14 and 16 are indeed in the very corner, right next to the restroom, and to be honest, they smell a bit.

Chen Zhuo pulled out the chair for computer number 16. Two holes were burned into the seat, revealing yellowed foam inside, but he didn't pay them any mind and sat down. The monitor screen was covered in dust and fingerprints. The white Double Swallow mouse on the desk was worn smooth, its scroll wheel clogged with ancient grime. Chen Zhuo placed the cola on the corner of the desk and pressed the power button on the computer case.

The computer case emitted a strained humming sound from the fan.

He didn't come to the internet cafe to play games.

Before the holiday, their makeshift team took on a job optimizing the underlying search database for a photo website in the south. Chu Ge was responsible for writing the core code, while Chen Zhuo was responsible for building the macro-architecture. They could have finished before the holiday, but Chu Ge insisted on rewriting a module the night before he left, causing delays. The two agreed to communicate via email during the holiday to proofread the last few lines of code, and then send it to Su Wei, who was also staying on campus, for review. Once that was done, they would get paid. The screen lit up, and Chen Zhuo opened the Internet Explorer browser on his desktop.

The internet speed was very slow; the funnel next to the mouse pointer spun for ages before the webpage finally loaded, albeit with stutters.

Zhang Qiang had already logged into "Legend," where he played a warrior, wielding a Shura Axe and hacking wildly in the zombie cave.

"The drop rate is way too low."

Zhang Qiang frantically clicked the mouse while complaining.

"I've been hacking away all morning, and I haven't even seen a single skill book."

"Try walking towards the coordinates (342, 215)."

Chen Zhuo looked at his screen and casually said something.

Zhang Qiang was taken aback.

How did you know?

"Just a guess. The refresh rate for that corner is usually written in a fixed loop in the underlying code, and many private servers are too lazy to change it." Chen Zhuo typed in the URL of the USTC internal email.

Zhang Qiang, half-believing and half-doubting, manipulated the game character to run over, and less than two minutes later, he suddenly slapped his thigh.

"Holy crap! A zombie king actually spawned! Brother Zhuo is amazing!"

Chen Zhuo smiled and ignored him.

The email page has finally loaded.

Chen Zhuo entered his student ID and password and pressed Enter.

Two unread emails lay quietly in my inbox.

The first message was a holiday safety notice sent by the Academic Affairs Office. Chen Zhuo glanced at it and skipped it.

He looked at the second letter.

The sender is not Chugo.

The sender's name was a string of English letters: Adrian.

The email address ends with @ias.edu.

Chen Zhuo was taken aback for a moment; of course he knew what the suffix meant.

The Institute for Advanced Study in Princeton. He opened the email.

The internet cafe was dimly lit. Chen Zhuo leaned back in his chair, staring at long, densely packed English letters on the screen. The letter was very long, written in an extremely formal tone, with a slightly exaggerated enthusiasm characteristic of Western scholars.

Chen Zhuo quickly translated the contents of the letter in his mind.

"Dear Professor Zhuo Chen:

Spread the letter good.

"I am Derian from the Institute for Advanced Study in Princeton. First, please allow me, on behalf of my team, to extend our sincerest respect to you regarding the PDF file on discrete algebraic mappings that you sent us. We have carefully derived it."

When Chen Zhuo saw the word "professor," the corners of his mouth curved slightly.

He glanced down at his slightly frayed dark blue shirt, then at the face reflected on the screen. He continued watching.

"That was an incredible answer."

We were plagued by the divergence problem for six whole months. We tried various renormalization methods to smooth out those meaningless infinityes, but the results were always unsatisfactory. The discrete mesh model you provided is like opening a window directly on the side of this dead end.

This mathematical intuition, which transcends the thinking of a continuum, is crisp, beautiful, and without a trace of redundancy. David (my assistant) even cheered in the office. In the middle of the letter, Derian devoted considerable space to discussing in detail several derivation steps in Chen Zhuo's matrix and raising some extended questions at a purely mathematical level. Chen Zhuo read it very carefully.

The letter takes a turn in the second half.

"Professor Chen, scientific communication requires face-to-face interaction."

If your schedule allows, I would like to formally invite you, on behalf of the Institute for Advanced Study, to Princeton for a few months of academic visits. All travel and accommodation expenses will be covered by us. We can not only discuss the improvement of this discrete model, but more importantly, I am very eager to hear your views on the physics of this model.” Chen Zhuo paused here.

At the end of the letter, Derian posed a truly central question.

"The beauty of mathematics is always captivating, but physics needs a practical foundation. What do you think is the physical meaning of manifold boundaries after dealing with singularities using discrete algebra? Does it imply that spacetime itself is discontinuous at the Planck scale?"

After reading the last question mark, Chen Zhuo removed his hand from the mouse and placed his fingers interlaced on his lap.

Zhang Qiang was shouting and yelling from the side.

"Quick, quick! Grab the loot! A Silver Serpent dropped!"

Chen Zhuo looked at the screen and sighed softly.

A visit to Princeton?

The proposal sounded very tempting; if any ordinary professor in China received this letter, they would probably be so excited they wouldn't be able to sleep tonight. But Chen Zhuo only felt a little helpless.

Apply for a passport? Apply for a visa? At only eleven years old, he's going to New Jersey all by himself?

When Chen Jianguo and Liu Xiuying find out, they'll probably tie him to the radiator overnight.

As for the physics question that Derian asked in his letter...

Chen Zhuo shook his head slightly.

He did indeed solve the divergent redundancy using discrete algebra, relying on some minor mathematical intuition.

But that only stays at the level of mathematical logic.

Mathematics can be about autonomy and elegance; as long as the formula can be derived without contradictions, it is valid.

But not physics.

Physics must correspond to the real world.

Derian asked him about the "physical meaning of manifold boundaries" and whether "spacetime is discontinuous," which was tantamount to asking him to define the underlying structure of the entire universe. Chen Zhuo was well aware of his own limitations.

He has never conducted high-energy particle collision experiments, nor has he seen astrophysical observation data. On what basis does he dare to make arbitrary judgments about the truth of physics based on a mathematical formula? In science, especially in fundamental physics, the worst thing is to see everything as a nail when you have a hammer.

Chen Zhuo put his hands back on the keyboard. The keyboard was very oily, and the typing experience was terrible.

He created a new reply email.

Without carefully choosing his words or drafting a reply, he began typing in English at a steady pace, as if he were replying to a classmate's note about borrowing a book. "Dear Professor Derian:

Thank you for your letter and your praise. I am glad that the discrete model can be helpful to your research.

I am very honored by your invitation, but I regret to inform you that due to personal circumstances and my current urgent academic schedule, I am unable to travel to the United States for an academic visit in the near future. I hope you understand. After typing this, Chen Zhuo paused. Not wanting the other party to feel that he was putting on airs, he added a blunt statement:

"This is not an excuse; it's simply that objective conditions don't allow it."

He then left a blank line and began to reply to Derian's question about physical boundaries.

Regarding the extended physics question you mentioned at the end of your letter.

I must be honest, I cannot give you the answer you are looking for.

The matrix I sent you was merely a shortcut I attempted to find from a purely mathematical perspective while working with your preprint. It was just a tool to bypass those annoying infinities. Whether this tool hides a physical truth about the discontinuity of spacetime is completely beyond my current derivation and understanding. Mathematics can sometimes be deceptive; it can construct a perfect eleven-dimensional space, but the real universe may not accept it. Without rigorous physical proof and experimental data to support it, I do not recommend that you treat this mathematical conclusion directly as physical reality.

The academic journey is long; I wish you all the best at Princeton.

ZhuoChen.

Chen Zhuo checked the spelling over.

There were no flowery words, no pretentious hints; the entire piece was written in plain language, exuding a frank and honest disclosure of the situation. He simply didn't understand, and he couldn't do it.

Just as he was about to click send, Zhang Qiang suddenly leaned over.

"Brother Zhuo, what are you doing? You've been staring at the screen for ages."

Zhang Qiang peeked at the screen and saw it filled with dense English letters.

"What are you typing? Is it gibberish? Or are you downloading cheat codes for some foreign game?"

Chen Zhuo's hand trembled, and he almost pressed the wrong key.

He moved the mouse over the send button.

"Um."

Chen Zhuo answered without changing his expression.

"CS infinite health cheat codes, sharing my experience with an American netizen."

"Holy crap, you even have American netizens?"

Zhang Qiang's eyes widened.

"Unlimited health? Then make a copy for me, I'll use it next time I'm playing LAN with those bastards from No. 2 Middle School."

"You can't use it casually, it's easy to get your account banned."

Chen Zhuo clicked the mouse, and a progress bar appeared on the screen.

Two seconds later, the page redirected.

The message indicates that the email has been successfully sent.

"Alright, stop looking."

Chen Zhuo casually closed the webpage and cleared his browser history.

"How much longer do you have? That's enough, my mom should have the stewed ribs ready soon."

"I still have two yuan in this card, it's not worth returning it."

Zhang Qiang looked at the soldiers on the screen with lingering reluctance.

"Wait for me a little longer, I'll leave after I finish this injection."

Chen Zhuo didn't stop him. He leaned back in his chair and stared blankly at the fluorescent light on the ceiling of the internet cafe, which was malfunctioning.

He didn't care at all what Princeton would think when they received the letter.

Just make things clear.

His primary task now is to wait for Chu Ge to send over the code so he can earn some extra money.

"Hey, Brother Zhuo."

Zhang Qiang asked casually while slaying monsters.

"What exactly do you learn in your gifted youth program? Do you just do those incredibly difficult tests that are harder than gibberish every day?"

"no."

Chen Zhuo looked at the game screen.

"In our first class, our homeroom teacher asked us to write down the formula that we thought was the most beautiful."

Zhang Qiang curled his lip.

"Isn't this still just doing practice problems? What's the point? Brother Zhuo, do you think I can still get into the top high school in the city with these grades?" Chen Zhuo turned to look at Zhang Qiang.

"Yes," Chen Zhuo said.

"Really?"

Zhang Qiang's eyes lit up, and his hands slowed down.

"Save the money you would have spent on game points and buy two more sets of Huanggang Secret Exam Papers."

Chen Zhuo spoke in a flat tone, as if he were saying something that was taken for granted.

Zhang Qiang's face fell.

"It's the Lunar New Year, can you please not talk about studying? It's giving me a headache."

"Even if you have a headache, you still need to see a doctor."

Zhang Qiang muttered something under his breath, but he was clearly in a much better mood.

Just then, the webpage in front of Chen Zhuo paused for a moment and then slowly refreshed.

A red "(1)" popped up in the parentheses of the inbox.

From: Chu Ge.

Chen Zhuo sat up straight; this was the real reason he had come here today despite the cold wind.

When I opened the email, Chu Ge hadn't even added a single punctuation mark; the body of the email contained only one line of text.

"I've stayed up for two nights in a row, but the third-level retrieval logic still times out and crashes. SOS, SOS."

Below is an attachment.

Chen Zhuo clicked download and opened it directly with Notepad, which came with the internet cafe's computer.

Lines of code scrolled across the dimly lit screen.

While waiting to kill monsters, Zhang Qiang glanced at the screen and was made dizzy by the sight of so many English letters and parentheses.

"What's this now? Your cheat code for unlimited health is so long?"

"It's not a cheat code."

Chen Zhuo stared at the screen, his right hand sliding the mouse.

"I took on a side job, fixing things for people to earn some pocket money."

"You can fix computers?"

Zhang Qiang's eyes widened.

Chen Zhuo didn't answer. His gaze quickly swept over the nested loops. The screen refresh rate of this old computer was very low; looking at it for too long made his eyes sore. Two minutes later, the mouse cursor stopped in the middle of a large block of code.

found it.

When Chu Ge was retrieving the underlying data of the image, he used an extremely cumbersome old algorithm, which caused a deadlock as soon as the data volume increased. Chen Zhuo placed his hands on the keyboard.

A few crisp taps rang out, and without hesitation, he deleted the redundant lines of conditional statements and retyped four extremely concise lines of logic. He saved the document.

Return to the email page, add the attachment, and click Reply.

"Resolved."

Click send.

The progress bar just reached 100%, and the page displayed that the message was sent successfully.

With a click.

The screen in front of Chen Zhuo suddenly went black, followed by a blue-on-white billing system lock screen interface, and the balance became zero.

The timing was perfect.

"Depend on!"

At the same time, Zhang Qiang's lock screen also popped up. He was attacking a low-health wild boar and angrily pulled off his headphones.

The two walked out of the internet cafe one after the other.

It was already getting dark outside. A cold wind blew, and Chen Zhuo shivered, turning up the collar of his down jacket.

The streetlights came on, their dim yellow glow somewhat blurred in the chill. A bright red lantern hung outside a nearby general store, and festive New Year's songs played from a radio. "Hey bro, wanna buy some firecrackers?"

Zhang Qiang rubbed his hands together and pointed to the convenience store in front of him.

"The kind that makes a loud noise, it's really satisfying to throw it down the drain."

Chen Zhuo thought for a moment and nodded.

"Okay, it's on me."

The two walked side by side on the somewhat bumpy sidewalk in Zeyang City. The roadside was covered with slushy, dirty snow that crunched underfoot. Chen Zhuo was standing next to a manhole cover, watching Zhang Qiang light a firecracker.

"Get out of the way! It's going to explode!"

Zhang Qiang covered his ears and ran backward.

Chen Zhuo quickly moved two steps to the side.

"Bang!"

With a muffled thud, a plume of white smoke rose from the sewer.

"Cool!"

Zhang Qiang laughed heartily.

Chen Zhuo smelled the faint smell of gunpowder in the air and turned to look in the direction of the family compound.

"Let's go," Chen Zhuo said.

"I can smell braised pork ribs."