The stairwell of Sunshine Family Courtyard was filled with the characteristic aroma of dinnertime.
A scent of stir-fried pork with chili peppers wafted up from the first floor, and the aroma of stewed fish drifted out of a second-floor window.
Mingling with these smells was the closing theme of the evening news drifting from various TVs, and the sounds of some unknown child receiving the kind of parental "care" that makes for a "complete" childhood.
Fourth floor.
Chen Zhuo was dragging himself up the stairs.
Chen Zhuo was feeling very strange.
His body didn’t ache, and there was no lactic acid buildup in his muscles, yet he felt like a battery completely drained of power.
He felt weightless, as if he were walking on cotton.
It was the brain’s shutdown response after a period of extreme overstimulation.
A little while ago, in the dark physics prep room, he had pushed his dopamine and adrenaline to their absolute limits. All to catch that fleeting phase difference and stabilize that incredibly fragile "50Hz circle."
Of course, the moment itself had been incredibly exhilarating.
But that was then, and the high had passed.
The adrenaline rush was over.
All that remained was a slight dizziness from low blood sugar and the hollow rumbling of his stomach.
As he rounded the third-floor landing, a rich aroma—a mix of soy sauce and star anise—wafted from under his front door and straight into his nostrils.
It was followed by the sound of the television.
"This pipe of mine? Why, it once belonged to the great Ji Xiaolan..."
It sounded like they were already at the closing theme of *Iron Teeth and Copper Teeth Ji Xiaolan*.
Chen Zhuo glanced at his watch.
7:40.
A full forty minutes later than usual.
Back in 2001, for a nine-year-old to come home this late was a pretty serious offense.
He hadn’t called, and no one knew where he was. It was a textbook case of a missing person, as clear as it gets.
To avoid receiving a "complete childhood" the moment he walked in, Chen Zhuo paused at his front door, thinking for a couple of seconds.
Chen Zhuo took out his key and unlocked the door.
It was quiet inside.
There was none of the usual clatter of pots and pans, nor the sound of Chen Jianguo humming along with the television.
The light in the living room was a bit harsh.
Chen Zhuo squinted, adjusting to the light.
Sure enough, the atmosphere in the room was tense.
Three plates sat on the dining table, each covered with a mesh food tent to keep off flies. It was impossible to see the dishes clearly, but the aroma of meat was definitely wafting from underneath.
Beside them sat three sets of bowls and chopsticks, pristine. Clearly, no one had started eating.
Chen Jianguo was sitting on the old sofa, an unlit half-cigarette pinched between his fingers, his brow knitted into a deep frown.
Meanwhile, Liu Xiuying stood in the kitchen doorway, wearing an apron and holding a dishcloth.
When she saw Chen Zhuo walk in, an expression of profound relief washed over Liu Xiuying’s face, as if a great weight had been lifted. But a second later, her eyebrows shot up, and a wave of classic Chinese parental fury—anxiety first, love later—surged to the surface.
"You! Where have you been?!"
Liu Xiuying slammed the dishcloth on the table, her voice jumping an octave.
"How long has it been since school let out? Huh? You didn’t even call home! Your dad was about to get on his bike and go look for you at school, did you know that? Are you trying to worry us to death?!"
On the sofa, Chen Jianguo stood up as well, crushing his cigarette into the ashtray. He didn’t say a word, but his eyes were shot with red.
Coming home late.
Especially in an era without GPS or instant messaging.
Especially when Chen Zhuo was only nine, and barely over four and a half feet tall.
Chen Zhuo stood in the entryway, changing his shoes.
Chen Zhuo simply bent down calmly, untied his laces, and placed his sneakers neatly on the shoe rack.
Then, he straightened up and pushed the glasses up the bridge of his nose.
"My physics teacher kept me after."
He said, while unhurriedly pulling a test paper from his backpack.
It was a large test, mimeographed on B4-sized paper and reeking of fresh ink.
A line of bold, black text was printed at the top of the page.
[2002 National Junior High Applied Physics Competition (School Qualifier)]
Chen Zhuo gently placed the test paper on the dining table.
"Teacher Zhou from the physics group gave me this," he said. "He wants me to participate in the competition."
Chen Zhuo looked at his parents, his tone as casual as if he were saying they were having rice for dinner.
"He was going over some problems with me in the lab, and we lost track of time."
The one-two punch was delivered with flawless, impeccable execution.
The air in the room froze for a second.
Then, the ice broke, and a warm spring bloomed in its place.
The anger on Liu Xiuying’s face visibly melted away, replaced by surprise and tender concern.
"A com... competition?"
She hurried over and picked up the test paper. While she couldn’t make sense of the questions, she recognized the bright red official seal and the word "National."
"From that Old Zhou in the physics department?"
Just then, Chen Jianguo, who had been silent, leaned in as well.
As one of the factory’s key technicians, Chen Jianguo was well aware of Old Zhou’s reputation—it was legendary.
The man was famous at City No.1 Middle School for being as eccentric as he was brilliant.
’To be singled out by him, and even kept after for one-on-one help with problems...’
Chen Jianguo’s face instantly softened. The murderous look from before vanished completely, replaced by a surge of paternal pride he couldn’t suppress.
"Attaboy!"
Chen Jianguo clapped a hand on Chen Zhuo’s shoulder, the force of the blow a little too strong, making the boy stagger.
"That Old Zhou has impossibly high standards. If he kept you after, it means he really thinks highly of you! This is great! This is fantastic news!"
"Oh, but you shouldn’t be doing all that on an empty stomach!"
By now, Liu Xiuying had completely forgotten her earlier anger. She looked with concern at her son’s pale little face.
"Quick, quick, wash your hands! Eat! The meat’s getting cold!"
She whisked the food tents off the dishes on the table.
A cloud of hot steam billowed up.
Glistening red, with jiggly morsels of fat and a thick, rich sauce.
A pot of braised pork, simmered until it was fall-apart tender and soaked in flavor.
Next to it was a plate of stir-fried celtuce and a bowl of tomato egg drop soup.
A very fine and hearty dinner indeed.
Chen Zhuo sat in his chair and picked up a large, full bowl of white rice.
With a deft movement, Liu Xiuying plucked the two largest pieces of pork belly from the pot and dropped them into his bowl.
"Eat more, it’s good for your brain. Look at your pale little face, you must be exhausted."
Chen Jianguo leisurely poured himself a small cup of white liquor and took a sip.
Watching his son devour his food, the crow’s feet at the corners of his eyes crinkled in a wide, unconcealable grin.
"So, son, what did Old Zhou go over with you? Was it pretty tough?"
Chen Zhuo’s mouth was stuffed with meat and rice.
He swallowed a mouthful and replied indistinctly,
"It was fine. Just... basic stuff."
Chen Jianguo roared with laughter.
"Listen to this kid’s confidence! He gets it from me!"
The light in the room was a warm yellow.
On the TV, Ji Xiaolan was still bickering with He Shen.
Chen Zhuo shoveled food into his mouth, listening to his parents’ idle chatter. He could feel the static and chill that had clung to him in the lonely lab slowly dissipating.
「After dinner.」
Chen Jianguo went to the balcony to smoke and, while he was at it, study the clivia plant he was on the verge of killing.
Liu Xiuying was in the kitchen washing dishes, the faucet running with a steady RUSH.
Chen Zhuo returned to his small room.
He closed the door.
The sounds of the TV and dishwashing outside were instantly cut off, leaving only a muffled background noise.
Chen Zhuo walked to his desk and turned on the desk lamp.
The white, energy-saving fluorescent bulb emitted a faint BUZZ, bathing Chen Zhuo’s small personal world in a stark white light.
Chen Zhuo sat in his chair, feeling a bit stuffed.
He’d attacked the braised pork with a little too much gusto. The increased blood flow to his stomach left his brain slightly deprived of oxygen, making him feel a bit sluggish.
Of course, this was only in comparison to the ’overclocked’ state he had been in at the lab.
For tackling a middle school physics test, this state was more than enough. It might even be overkill.
Chen Zhuo pulled the test from his backpack and smoothed it out on his desk.
The smell of ink mixed with the faint, lingering smell of braised pork on his hands.
OK.
’Time to get started.’

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