Old Zhao and Old Zhou paid no attention to the top students from the Provincial City or other cities.
Their gazes, like radar, swept past the stream of people and locked precisely onto Chen Zhuo, who was walking in the middle of the group.
Old Zhao quickly pulled a bottle of iced water from a plastic bag.
Wiping the condensation from the bottle with his sleeve, he strode forward to meet him.
Old Zhou followed close behind.
"Chen Zhuo!"
Old Zhao called out, a smile he couldn’t hide spreading across his face.
Hearing the voice, Chen Zhuo looked up.
His eyes lit up the moment he saw his two teachers striding toward him.
He quickened his pace and went to meet them.
"Teacher Zhao, Teacher Zhou, what are you two doing all the way out here in the Provincial City?"
Chen Zhuo’s tone was filled with genuine surprise.
He knew how far Zeyang was from the Provincial City, and on a hot summer day during the school holiday, no less.
"We’re on summer break and didn’t have much to do, so we thought we’d come pick you up."
Smiling, Old Zhao thrust the bottle of iced water into Chen Zhuo’s hand.
He was about to reach for the backpack on Chen Zhuo’s shoulder.
But Old Zhao froze.
It was only then that he and Old Zhou noticed.
An elderly man was walking close beside Chen Zhuo, dressed in a white shirt and dark slacks, and carrying an old, black briefcase.
The elderly man had a very composed demeanor.
He didn’t look at all like a typical parent or a middle school teacher; he carried the distinct, weighty air of a university academic.
Just then, Coach Xu spotted the two teachers from City No.1 Middle School.
He walked over and gave a nod.
"Teacher Zhao, Teacher Zhou. You’re here to pick him up."
Coach Xu’s expression was complex, his voice laced with an indescribable wistfulness.
"I’m returning your City No.1 Middle School’s prized pupil to you, safe and sound. However..."
Coach Xu stepped aside, revealing the elderly man in the white shirt.
Fang Yuanming looked at Old Zhao and Old Zhou.
He took the initiative and extended his hand.
"You two must be Chen Zhuo’s teachers, correct?"
Fang Yuanming’s voice, tinged with a southern accent, was amicable yet carried a distinct weight.
Old Zhao subconsciously reached out and shook his hand, his face a picture of confusion.
Old Zhou was just as baffled.
Fang Yuanming released his hand, pulled two business cards from his breast pocket, and handed one to each of them.
"I’m Fang Yuanming. I’m a teacher with the admissions office for the Class for Gifted Youth at Hua Country Science and Technology University."
Old Zhao clutched the business card, which bore a red university crest.
The terminal announcements were still broadcasting flight information, but it was as if all sound had been instantly sucked from his ears.
"You two are excellent teachers."
Fang Yuanming looked at them and, without any preamble, laid his cards on the table.
"Mathematics, a perfect score. Physics, also a perfect score."
"I’m accompanying Chen Zhuo back to Zeyang this time just to get his parents’ signature. Then, when the new semester starts, I’ll take him straight to Huake University."
People bustled to and fro at the arrivals gate, the rumble of luggage cart wheels on the floor a constant noise.
Yet where Old Zhao and Old Zhou stood, there was only silence.
Old Zhao was still holding the plastic bag full of water bottles.
The handles dug into his fingers, leaving red marks, but he seemed completely oblivious.
Old Zhou’s hand was frozen in mid-air.
Perfect scores.
Huake University.
Going to university.
Those words, strung together, felt like a sledgehammer.
It completely shattered the meticulously crafted plans they had for him—the ones where he would dominate the second and third years of middle school, the ones for his special training in the high school labs.
Just moments ago, they had been arguing over whether this prized cabbage should be planted in the dry fields of mathematics or the paddy fields of physics.
And now, someone had just rolled up in an aircraft carrier and taken the entire planter.
Old Zhao looked at Chen Zhuo, his lips moving several times.
He wanted to smile and congratulate him, but his facial muscles felt stiff.
After a long moment, he finally managed to force out a few strained words.
"So... you’re not going to high school?"
Old Zhou lowered his hand and took a deep breath.
Rationality took over once more, but it was followed by an immense sense of emptiness.
He looked at the child before him, only ten years old.
Just a few months ago, this kid had been in his office, reading a Soviet-era edition of *Selected Solutions to Challenging Middle School Physics Problems*.
Now, a professor from Huake University had personally come to the airport to escort him.
"It’s for the best. It’s for the best."
Old Zhou’s voice dropped a little.
"Staying in Zeyang really would have held you back."

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