My IQ has been increasing year by year.

Summers in Beijing are dry and humid.

The leaves of a few locust trees were curled up, and there were no cicadas chirping in the trees, only the occasional sound of car tires rubbing against the road.

The bus was parked on the auxiliary road a few dozen meters away.

The car door wasn't open yet, and the driver was smoking in the shadows in front of the car.

"I'm going to wash my hands."

Chen Zhuo stopped and said something to the people behind him.

He pointed to a small door on the side of the training center, above which hung a blue sign with white lettering indicating the restroom.

Zhou Kai nodded: "We'll wait for you over by the car."

Lin Yi waved his hand and walked straight into the shade of the tree.

Wang, who spoke little, fanned himself with a towel and followed behind Lin Yi.

Chen Zhuo turned around and walked towards the side door.

Pushing open the glass door reveals a slightly dimly lit corridor.

The corridor floor was covered with white tiles, and some areas were stained with water.

The walls were painted with a light green lacquer.

There was a faint smell in the air, a mixture of disinfectant and damp mop.

The heavy walls blocked out most of the outside noise, making the corridor very quiet.

Chen Zhuo walked to the sink.

Turn on the leftmost faucet.

The tap water gushed out, the flow was a bit rapid, splashing into the white ceramic basin and creating tiny droplets.

Chen Zhuo put his hand under the flowing water.

The back of my hand, under my fingernails, was covered in pencil dust, dust from the multimeter pen, and debris from disassembling the metal box base. A bar of soap sat on the sink.

Chen Zhuo picked up the soap and rubbed it in his hands a few times.

Put down the soap, cross your hands, and rub vigorously.

The white foam quickly turned grayish-black.

He scrubbed very carefully, washing away the stubborn dirt little by little between his fingers.

Then rinse your hands under the running water again.

The grayish-black water flowed down the sewer.

Footsteps echoed down the corridor.

The sound of a very steady, hard leather heel striking the floor tiles.

Hey.

Hey.

Hey.

The footsteps stopped two meters away from the sink.

Chen Zhuo did not look up.

He continued to scrub a black mark on his left wrist.

There was a person standing next to him.

The mirror reflected half of the person's body.

He was a man in his sixties, with some gray hair that was cut very short.

He was wearing a faded dark blue jacket, the zipper undone, revealing a plain striped shirt underneath.

He was holding a transparent plastic document bag.

He looked like an ordinary faculty member you'd bump into on any tree-lined path on a university campus.

The old man didn't speak, he just watched Chen Zhuo wash his hands.

Chen Zhuo finished washing his wrists.

Turn off the tap.

The sound of flowing water stopped abruptly.

The corridor returned to silence.

Chen Zhuo shook the water off his hands.

Water droplets fell on the tiled floor, splashing out several dark dots.

The old man took two steps forward.

Walk to the sink.

He opened the transparent file bag in his hand and pulled out a piece of paper.

Place it on a dry, unwater-free surface on the edge of the sink.

The paper is very flat.

At the very top is a line of red text.

The font size is small, but it is very eye-catching.

Pre-admission intention form for the Junior Class of Huaguo University of Science and Technology.

No exam required.

The old man spoke, his voice not loud, with a slight northern accent, in a very calm, declarative tone.

"Combined Bachelor's and Master's degree programs with full scholarships; choose any major from across the university in your third year."

(Note: At that time, the USTC Junior Class did not have a major in the first two years, but students could choose any major in their third year.)

He pointed to the bottom right corner of the paper, where there was a blank signature area.

"The paperwork is done. We can start the internal process for transferring my student file in the next few days. I don't need to go back to junior high to study anymore."

Chen Zhuo turned around.

He didn't look at the paper on the table.

I didn't even look at the form with the red lettering.

He reached into the tissue box next to the sink and pulled out a paper towel to dry his hands.

Chen Zhuo folded it in half, pressed it against the back of his hand, and slowly dried the water off his hand.

"She went to the gifted youth program."

Chen Zhuo looked at the tissue in his hand, his tone calm, as if he were asking what the cafeteria would serve tonight.

"Do we still have to do roll call and morning exercises at 6:30 every day?"

(P.S. This is just a personal preference. I absolutely hate running calisthenics. I can accept running on my own initiative, but I can't stand being forced to run calisthenics.)

The old man was stunned for a moment.

He narrowed his eyes slightly as he looked at the ten-year-old boy in front of him.

He prepared many sets of talking points.

He had a way of suppressing arrogant geniuses.

He had a caring approach to dealing with timid child prodigies.

He has a way of negotiating with shrewd parents.

But he was not prepared to deal with this one problem.

"The gifted youth program only admits minors."

The old man quickly composed himself and answered in a businesslike tone.

"The semi-military management and standardized schedule are to ensure your physical health during your developmental period; this is a school rule."

Chen Zhuo changed the paper towel.

Start wiping between the fingers of your right hand.

"If I feel the professor is speaking too slowly in class."

Chen Zhuo held the tissue he had used to wipe his right hand in his hand, raised his head, and looked honestly into the old man's eyes.

"I can learn faster by going to the library to read books. Can I skip classroom attendance and just take a test at the end of the semester to get credits?" The old man frowned.

"Universities have their own curriculum."

The old man's tone became more serious, carrying the solemnity of someone who had been working within the system and following the rules for many years.

"Professors teach not only to impart knowledge, but also to cultivate scientific literacy. We have seen many geniuses. Every year, which of the students admitted is not one of the top talents in the region?"

Once you're at school, rules are rules, and no one is exempt. You can't disrupt the entire class's teaching order just because of one person. Occasionally, one or two out-of-province students would pass by in the corridor.

They watched as an old man and a young man stood in front of the sink talking, but no one stopped.

The noise was loud, but it quickly disappeared at the end of the corridor.

Chen Zhuo threw the wad of soaking wet paper towel in his hand into the plastic trash can next to him.

He wiped the remaining water from his hands onto his pants and turned around.

"Teacher, there's one last question."

Chen Zhuo's voice rang out clearly in the empty corridor, his tone gentle, as if discussing the most ordinary of family matters. "Can I apply for unlimited library access with my student ID card?"

The old man looked at him but did not answer immediately.

"I don't want to one day want to look up some foreign language literature or read a graduate-level professional book, only to be told by the librarian that undergraduates don't have enough access and can't borrow it."

"I don't want to have to run around half the campus to the office just to borrow a book, and then have to get my advisor's approval, signature, and stamp."

(Note: Some books were really hard to borrow back then; you really couldn't borrow them if you didn't have the proper status.)

The old man took a deep breath.

He put his hands into the pockets of his jacket.

Leaning back slightly, he rested against the wall.

"The allocation of resources in schools is hierarchical."

The old man looked at Chen Zhuo as if he were looking at a subordinate who did not follow the rules.

"The reading room and document repository for graduate students are for those with research projects. The task of undergraduate students is to lay a foundation, not to aim too high. This is not directed at you, it is the system."

The old man paused for a moment.

He pointed to the pre-admission intention form with red lettering on the sink.

"This is the best science education system in the country."

The old man looked into Chen Zhuo's eyes, his tone carrying an undeniable pressure.

"Other provincial teams would fight tooth and nail for a spot like this. Are you sure you want to haggle with me over these trivial details like attendance and library management rules?"

A sliver of sunlight shone in from outside the corridor, falling on the gray-white floor tiles.

Chen Zhuo gently shook his head, not touching the paper.

"Then I won't sign it for now."

Chen Zhuo said.

His tone was crisp and decisive.

There was no unnecessary delay.

It's like asking the price at the market, finding it unsuitable, and then politely turning around and leaving.

The old man clearly hadn't expected this outcome.

He straightened up slightly from his leaning against the wall.

"Not signing?"

The old man watched Chen Zhuo's retreating figure.

"Do you think the admissions teams at Xi'an Jiaotong University and Southeast University have fewer rules and regulations than we do? Do you think you can do whatever you want just because you're at another school?" Chen Zhuo stopped in his tracks.

He didn't turn around.

Chen Zhuo's voice came down the corridor.

It's faint.

"Early next month, July 2nd."

Chen Zhuo looked at the glass door at the end of the corridor.

"I also have a national junior high school math competition finals."

The old man didn't speak, but stood there watching him.

"At that time."

Chen Zhuo tilted his head slightly, his voice not loud, but every word was clear.

"With your report card showing you're ranked first in the nation in two subjects, you can then apply to the school leaders for exemption from morning exercises, attendance checks, and library access, among other things."

"The resistance should be less."

Chen Zhuo lifted his foot and continued walking forward.

Push open the glass door at the end of the corridor.

The heat and sunlight outside rushed in instantly.

His figure disappeared into the blinding halo of light.

In front of the sink.

The old man stood still.

The corridor returned to deathly silence, with only the occasional dripping sound of water from the faucet.

The old man looked down at the perfectly creased "Pre-admission Intention Form" on the table.

He slowly reached out and picked up the paper.

I watched for a while.

The corner of his mouth twitched slightly; it was hard to tell whether he was laughing in anger or feeling helpless.

He put the paper back into the transparent file folder.

Zip up the zipper.

Turn around and walk slowly away down the other end of the corridor.

Step outside.

A wave of heat hit us.

Several cars sped past on the road in the distance, kicking up clouds of dust.

Chen Zhuo walked along this road.

The bus was parked a few dozen meters away.

The car door was open, and the driver was sitting in the driver's seat, fanning himself with a palm-leaf fan.

There was a small patch of shade under the plane trees by the roadside.

Those five people were all there.

Wang Huashao squatted on the curb, holding a half-empty bottle of mineral water. The bottle was covered with water droplets. He didn't drink it, but just stared blankly at a few ants on the ground.

Zhou Kai leaned against the tree trunk, his arms crossed over his chest, his eyes fixed on the direction of the bus.

Lin Yi stood on the outermost side, leaning against a lamppost.

She was holding the wrapper of a mint in her hand, slowly folding it into a small square.

The sunlight slanted down onto her trouser legs.

Chen Zhuo walked to the shade of the tree.

Several people looked up at him.

No one asked him why he took so long to go to the restroom.

No one asked about the next steps.

Those four hours in the training center had exhausted all their energy and desire to express themselves.

Chen Zhu patted Wang, who was not talkative, on the shoulder.

"Let's go, the air conditioning is on in the car."

Chen Zhuo pointed to the bus door.

Zhou Kai nodded and stood up straight.

Wang Huashao stood up, crushed the mineral water bottle in his hand, and threw it into the trash can next to him.

He Gui slowly stood up and patted the dust off his pants.

Board the bus in turn.

The air conditioning in the carriage was very strong; you could feel a chill as soon as you entered.

They each found a place to sit down.

No one sat together; they were all scattered at the front and back of the carriage.

Chen Zhuo walked to the third-to-last row, a window seat.

sit down.

Place your backpack on the empty seat next to you.

The driver threw away his cigarette butt and closed the car door.

The engine restarted, and a low vibration came from the car body.

The bus slowly drove off the auxiliary road and merged into the traffic on the main road.

Chen Zhuo leaned back in his chair.

The scenery outside the car window began to recede into the distance.

The streets of the capital are wide, and the buildings on both sides of the road are square and tall.

The carriage was extremely quiet.

No one speaks.

Zhou Kai closed his eyes and tilted his head back.

Wang, who spoke little, stared blankly at the back of the seat in front of him.

For Wang and the other two, who were not talkative.

Their national physics competition had come to a complete end at this moment.

(Note: The reason for saying this is that in this era, it usually takes 1 to 2 months from the end of the competition to the official announcement of the results. This includes marking, reviewing, confirming the results, and then publicizing them. After the competition ends, the results and the list will be released through official channels. Then, the production and distribution of certificates to various local schools takes another period of time. Finally, the schools usually notify the students themselves.)

Regardless of their grades, they will all face a reshuffling of their high school years.

This past two weeks of sharing life and death will eventually become a piece of paper in a file, or a topic of conversation at some dinner party many years from now. Chen Zhuo looked out the window at the bus stop sign that flashed by.

For him, the stepping stone of physics had already been laid.

He needs to take one off.

A heavier, purer piece of leverage that can completely shatter those rules and attendance systems.

The bus came to a slow stop at a red light at the intersection.

The cold air blowing from the air conditioner vent hit the glass and condensed into a thin layer of water mist.

Chen Zhuo stretched out his right hand and gently tapped twice on the car window.

July 2nd.

math.

The green light comes on.

The bus restarted and headed towards the hotel where it was staying.

They disappeared at the end of the wide road.