Winter in Huizhou always carried a bone-chilling cold.
Wind snaked through the crevices of Keda’s old campus, making the withered branches scrape together with a dry, harsh sound.
Fang Shi clutched his black wool coat tighter around himself. He carried a file folder and walked with brisk steps.
He crossed half the campus and went straight to a faculty apartment building.
The building was clearly old, and the smell of fried meatballs filled the hallway.
Fang Shi climbed to the third floor in one go. Standing before the security door on the left, he didn’t even pause to catch his breath before raising a hand and knocking heavily a few times.
"Brother, open up."
The door opened.
Fang Yuanming was wearing a worn, gray wool sweater that had gone soft from countless washes. A pair of reading glasses sat on his nose, and in his hands, he held a stack of just-printed registration forms for new students staying on campus during winter break.
"What are you doing here at this hour?"
Fang Yuanming stepped aside, puzzled, and let Fang Shi into the apartment.
"There’s water boiling on the stove. Get it yourself."
The heating in the room was cranked up high. A teapot sat on the coffee table, steaming, next to a half-disassembled old radio surrounded by scattered capacitors and a soldering iron.
Fang Shi didn’t even bother with slippers. He strode to the coffee table and immediately untied the file folder he was carrying.
He pulled out a few sheets of paper and spread them directly on the transparent plastic mat covering the table.
"Take a look at this."
Fang Shi’s voice was low but rapid, tinged with a clear sense of urgency.
Fang Yuanming glanced at his younger brother and slowly walked over.
On the coffee table, the top sheet was a printout of an all-English email, the header still bearing the black toner smudges from the academic affairs office’s printer.
Fang Yuanming leaned down, casually pushing the reading glasses further up his nose.
"What’s this?"
He muttered to himself as his eyes fell on the sender’s details at the top of the letter.
Princeton Institute for Advanced Study.
Delian.
As someone who had spent the better part of his life in academia, Fang Yuanming’s expression involuntarily grew serious upon seeing that name and the associated institution.
He sat down next to Fang Shi, picked up the paper, and began to read it, word by word.
The living room fell silent, leaving only the tick-tock of the old-fashioned wall clock.
Fang Shi stood nearby, staring intently at Fang Yuanming’s face without saying a word.
Fang Yuanming read very slowly.
It was a long letter, containing not only pleasantries and an invitation but also large sections filled with technical jargon about discrete algebra and manifold boundaries.
Delian’s phrasing in the letter treated the recipient as a peer of equal standing. In the latter half, he extended a formal invitation for a visit and earnestly inquired about the recipient’s views on the boundary of physical singularities.
After finishing, Fang Yuanming set the letter down and picked up the next sheet of paper.
It was a screenshot of a student’s record from the Keda academic affairs system.
In the upper left corner of the screenshot was a buzz-cut portrait of a male student. The personal information section next to it clearly displayed a few lines of text:
Name: Chen Zhuo.
Department: School for the Gifted Young.
Date of Birth: October 1991.
Fang Yuanming’s gaze fell upon the paper.
The living room was quiet, save for the occasional flutter of a parrot’s wings from the balcony.
Fang Yuanming put the paper down, took off his reading glasses, and rubbed the bridge of his nose with the back of his hand before turning to Fang Shi.
"This kid did this?"
Fang Shi nodded.
"It’s been verified. It was sent from a campus email address."
Fang Shi’s impatience was palpable as he looked at the letter on the table.
"Delian’s team has been stuck on renormalization for over half a year. Chen Zhuo used a discrete algebra model to flatten the divergence problem."
Fang Yuanming didn’t answer. He reached for the Zisha clay teapot on the coffee table, poured two cups of hot water, and pushed one toward Fang Shi.
"A freshman, meddling with a Princeton professor’s preprint."
Fang Yuanming held his cup, staring at a lone tea leaf floating on the surface.
"The sheer nerve of him."
Fang Yuanming leaned back against the sofa.
As an old-school educator who had worked in Keda’s admissions office for many years and seen all manner of prodigies and eccentrics, the expression on his face was now incredibly complex.
"When I went to Shanghai to recruit him this summer, I knew the boy was a promising talent."
Fang Yuanming murmured to himself, as if lost in memory.
"Perfect scores in both the middle school math and physics competitions, and a maturity well beyond his years. But that was middle school competition! He’s only a freshman, he’s only been in college for a few months. How could he dare to tackle a Princeton physics preprint?"
Fang Yuanming paused, as if organizing his thoughts, trying to digest this reality.
Fang Shi picked up his cup from the coffee table and, not caring if the water had cooled, took a large GULP.
"I just went to the old library and checked his borrowing history. For the past half-semester, this kid has been quietly devouring the Russian edition of *Basic Algebraic Topology*. He isn’t using conventional continuous calculus at all; he’s using discrete algebra to bypass the physical Singularity."
The more Fang Shi spoke, the more agitated he became, rubbing his hands on his knees.
"Brother, do you understand what this means? An eleven-year-old kid with this level of ingenious thinking and approach!"
Fang Shi stood up and paced back and forth in the living room.
"Just now in my office, I tried calling his home in Zeyang on the landline. No one answered."
Fang Shi walked up to Fang Yuanming, his tone resolute.
"I can’t wait. I’m going to drive over right now. I can be there by tonight. A talent of this caliber can’t be mishandled in any way. I have to see him immediately and get a clear picture of the situation."
As he spoke, he reached for the file folder on the coffee table.
Fang Yuanming took a sip of water and set his cup down on the coffee table with a sharp CLINK.
"And do what?"
"Talk to him," Fang Shi said, looking at his older brother. "Princeton is waiting for a reply."
Fang Yuanming leaned back against the sofa, his voice softening, tinged with a long, reminiscent quality.
"You... you’ve spent your whole life doing research in your Ivory Tower. You’ve never had to deal closely with parents from working-class families."
Fang Shi froze for a moment.
"This summer, when I went to Zeyang for the second time to process his admission waiver, I visited his neighborhood. It’s called Sunshine Family Courtyard—old housing for the local First Mechanical Factory."
Fang Yuanming closed his eyes, as if transported back to that stuffy afternoon.
"I climbed to the fourth floor, briefcase in hand. The hallway was filled with the smell of cooking from every household. Chen Zhuo’s family was making braised pork; the aroma was wafting out from under the door."
Fang Yuanming smiled.
"Do you know what I saw when I knocked and went inside?"
Fang Shi looked at him, silent.
"Chen Zhuo was in the living room, playing a video game in front of the TV. Contra. The same one your grandson is always pestering you to play."
"The city’s education bureau was supposed to hold a big commendation ceremony for him that week—a whole song and dance to praise the ten-year-old prodigy with two perfect scores. They were even going to give him an 18,000 yuan prize.
Local evening news reporters were already staking out the entrance to their housing complex."
"And what happened? His father, Chen Jianguo, just an ordinary technician at the factory, went and made up an excuse to the education bureau, canceled the whole ceremony, quietly collected the money, and didn’t even let the reporters take a single photo."
Fang Yuanming pointed out the window at the faculty dorms where people were hanging red lanterns.
"In broad daylight, their front door was locked from the inside, curtains drawn tight. The couple insisted on keeping the boy cooped up at home, playing video games and watching TV, terrified that he would be tainted by even a hint of the outside world’s vanity."
As Fang Shi listened to these details, his furrowed brow gradually began to relax.
"When I was there to process the paperwork, his father said something to me."
Fang Yuanming looked at Fang Shi.
"He said, ’My boy is just a normal kid. Right now, he should be at home enjoying a good meal of braised pork and having a proper summer vacation. What other people say is their business. As his parents, it’s our job to guard the door for him.’"
The living room fell silent again.
Steam rose languidly from the cups.
Fang Yuanming lifted his cup and took a sip, his gaze falling on the English email on the table, a profoundly complex light flickering in his eyes.
"In all my years in admissions, I’ve never met parents so clear-headed, or so fiercely protective. Their wariness of fame and fortune is even sharper than that of us university professors. They’re terrified their son will become the next Shang Zhongyong."
Fang Yuanming raised his head to meet Fang Shi’s gaze.
"It’s the twenty-seventh day of the twelfth lunar month. Chinese New Year’s Eve is in three days. If a university vice dean suddenly shows up and says, ’Your son solved a major problem and now the Americans are after him,’ do you think they’ll be able to celebrate the holiday in peace?"
Fang Yuanming shook his head.
Fang Shi sat back down on the sofa, clasping his hands together.
He was a man in his fifties or sixties. As he processed his brother’s words, the excitement that had been boiling in his blood from the discovery of an academic genius slowly cooled.
He looked at Chen Zhuo’s photo on the coffee table.
The boy in the photo had a placid expression, devoid of the arrogance or pride of someone constantly praised by others.
’Yes,’ he thought. ’To be able to write a mathematical model that rejects all fantasies of continuity and honestly returns to a discrete grid... that kind of disposition was forged in that summer of eating braised pork behind a closed door.’
"So how should we reply to the email?" Fang Shi’s tone was completely calm now. "Delian is still waiting for a response."
"You don’t know how to play dumb?"
Fang Yuanming picked up the English email and gave it a little shake.
"Just reply to Princeton on behalf of the foreign affairs office or the school. Say that the person is indeed one of our students, but he’s currently off-campus, and that the message has been relayed."
Fang Yuanming placed the email back in the folder and methodically wound the white string fastener.
"As for anything else, don’t say a word. Don’t mention he’s only eleven, don’t mention he’s a freshman. Whatever the people at Princeton want to guess is their business. There’s no need to parade our family treasure around for all to see, especially not during the New Year."
Fang Shi nodded, agreeing with this approach.
"What about Chen Zhuo, then? Just pretend this never happened?"
"Of course not."
Fang Yuanming smiled, radiating the calm confidence and anticipation of an old-school scholar.
"The New Year is almost here. No matter how big Princeton’s physical Singularity is, it can’t be bigger than a Chinese family’s New Year’s Eve dinner."
He pushed the refilled folder back toward Fang Shi.
"Let’s keep this between the two of us for now. Don’t let anyone disturb his family. Wait until after the fifteenth day of the first lunar month, when the second semester starts, and he’s back on campus..."
Fang Yuanming lifted his teacup and blew gently on the tea leaves floating on top.
"Then, you can officially summon him to your office in the name of the School of Physics, brew a pot of good tea, and we can sit down and have a long talk with him."
Fang Shi picked up the file folder and stood up.
The sky outside had darkened. A few scattered snowflakes danced in the glow of the streetlights. From the hallway came the sound of someone chopping dumpling filling—a dull yet lively rhythm.
"Alright, I’ll listen to you."
Fang Shi walked to the entrance, his hand resting on the handle of the security door.
"Let him eat his dumplings in peace."
Fang Shi reached the doorway, pulled open the security door, and a gust of cold air from the hallway rushed in.
With one foot over the threshold, Fang Shi paused. He looked back at Fang Yuanming, who was still on the sofa, and added casually,
"Come over early on New Year’s Eve. Don’t just stay home alone and make do with something simple. Your sister-in-law already has the hairtail fish frozen for you."
Fang Yuanming waved his hand dismissively.
"I know."
The door closed.
Fang Yuanming sat on the sofa, listening quietly as Fang Shi’s footsteps faded down the stairs.
He put his reading glasses back on and picked up the list of students staying on campus. He stared at it for a while but didn’t register a single word.
He finally set the list down, stood up, and walked to the window.
Outside, a few strings of firecrackers went off in a distant residential area, their red sparks flashing in the winter night.
Fang Yuanming thought back to his first meeting with Chen Zhuo last summer.
Placid, calm, with a soaring arrogance concealed beneath a reserved exterior.
He laughed silently.
"You little rascal."
Fang Yuanming cursed softly at the night outside, but his eyes were filled with nothing but relief and pride.
"Daring to provoke even Princeton. Let’s see how you talk your way out of this when school starts."

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