While Zhang Qiang was on a mission at the vegetable market, hunting for walnuts with brain-like wrinkles.
Sunshine Family Courtyard, fourth floor.
Inside Chen Zhuo’s home, the atmosphere wasn’t tense, oppressive, and filled with formulas and calculations as Zhang Qiang had imagined.
On the contrary.
He was nestled in his blankets, with only his eyes and two hands showing.
In his hands, he held a thick, yellow-paged book with a few figures in ancient costumes drawn on the cover.
Eighteen Chapters of the Celestial Dragon.
His glasses were tossed aside, next to an already opened bag of Jinling Board Duck.
There was also a half-finished bottle of orange soda, its fizz nearly all gone.
Now *this* was the kind of weekend a nine-year-old boy should be having.
Ever since entering Old Zhou and Old Zhao’s "demon’s den," his brain had been like a server running twenty-four hours a day, its CPU constantly maintaining a ninety-percent load.
For the past two weeks, he had been shuttling back and forth between two intensive training groups.
Monday was number theory.
Tuesday was electromagnetic fields.
Wednesday was proving combinatorial geometry, and Thursday was deriving variable-mass dynamics.
His brain was indeed a precision machine, but even machines need maintenance.
So, Chen Zhuo had decided to change the channel.
Chen Zhuo was completely engrossed.
Even though it was a pirated copy, with the words sometimes slightly blurred, it didn’t stop Chen Zhuo from reading with great relish.
Besides, reading this kind of book didn’t require any brainpower.
He didn’t need to deduce why a single palm strike could generate five hundred jin of force, nor did he need to calculate whether the parabolic arc of a lightness skill conformed to the laws of gravitational acceleration.
All he had to do was go along for the ride and enjoy the thrill.
He turned a page and let out a comfortable sigh.
No need to think about whether that damned integral would converge, nor worry about whether that circuit diagram would short out.
’This feeling of just being a spectator, of not having to use my brain, is amazing.’
KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK!!
A series of urgent knocks rang out.
The sound was so loud it was as if someone were hammering on the door.
Immediately after, before Chen Zhuo could even respond, the doorknob turned.
A cold draft, carrying the smell of rain and mud, slipped through the opening, instantly dispersing the warm, cozy scent of his blanket fort.
"Brother Zhuo! Stop sleeping! Something big has happened!"
A soaking-wet figure squeezed inside.
It was Zhang Qiang.
The kid wasn’t wearing his school uniform today; he had on a gray jacket instead.
A cold mist seemed to radiate from his entire body. His hair was plastered wetly to his forehead, dripping water from the tips.
But he was clutching a black plastic bag tightly to his chest, his arms crossed protectively over it. His posture made it look like he was escorting a state secret.
Chen Zhuo sighed, closed Eighteen Chapters of the Celestial Dragon, and stuffed it under his pillow.
He looked with a hint of resignation at the uninvited guest who had just crashed into his world of martial heroes.
"Zhang Qiang, it’s Sunday."
Chen Zhuo’s voice was a little hoarse, as if he had just woken up.
"And it’s only nine o’clock. You’d better tell me you’re holding an alien’s skull, or I’m throwing you out."
"What alien? This is way more important than that!"
Zhang Qiang just chuckled, completely ignoring Chen Zhuo’s threat.
He plopped down on the chair by Chen Zhuo’s bed, carefully placed the black plastic bag on the desk, and then started unbuttoning his jacket.
"For this stuff, I got up super early today and made a special trip to the South Gate Vegetable Market."
Zhang Qiang said this while mysteriously rubbing his red, frozen hands together.
"Brother Zhuo, you’ve looked really pale lately, as white as a vampire. I heard from Granny Wang next door that it’s because you’re overusing your brain. You’re burning through your brain matter too fast. You need to replenish it."
Chen Zhuo rolled his eyes.
"Granny Wang also said drinking mung bean soup could cure cancer last time. You believe her? Besides, my face isn’t nearly as bad as you’re making it out to be."
"Better safe than sorry!"
Zhang Qiang untied the knot on the plastic bag.
CLATTER.
A pile of round, earthy-brown things rolled out, covering half the desk.
They were walnuts.
But they didn’t seem to be ordinary walnuts.
Chen Zhuo glanced over.
It was a pile of dark, wrinkled walnuts that looked more like rocks.
"Walnuts?"
Chen Zhuo was taken aback.
"You ran out first thing in the morning, got yourself covered in mud, just to buy this stuff?"
"These aren’t just any walnuts!"
Zhang Qiang picked out the ugliest, largest walnut and held it up in front of Chen Zhuo as if presenting a treasure.
"I hand-picked every single one of these! They’re scientifically certified!"
"Scientifically certified?" Chen Zhuo raised an eyebrow.
"Yeah!"
Zhang Qiang pulled a slightly bent plastic ruler from his pocket and waved it around.
"I used this ruler to measure them, one by one!"
"Diameter less than three centimeters? Rejected! That’s underdeveloped!"
"Surface too smooth? Rejected! That means the brain has no wrinkles and can’t hold information!"
"Too light? Rejected! That’s an empty shell!"
"The ones that are left..."
Zhang Qiang pointed at the pile of ugly, misshapen specimens with a proud expression.
"These are the elites! The Einsteins of the walnut world! Brother Zhuo, if you eat these, the grooves in your brain will get at least two millimeters deeper! For real!"
Chen Zhuo looked at the pile of ugly walnuts.
Then he looked at Zhang Qiang’s big, earnest face, which couldn’t have been more serious.
And at the beat-up ruler he was brandishing like an imperial sword.
Chen Zhuo wanted to laugh.
His first instinct was to drop some science on him:
The idea that walnuts are good for the brain is just pseudoscience based on the "like-nourishes-like" fallacy.
Walnuts are mainly composed of fats, proteins, linoleic acid, and phospholipids.
While they are beneficial for the brain, it has absolutely nothing to do with whether they look like a brain or how deep their wrinkles are.
And using a ruler to measure a walnut’s roundness and wrinkle depth was just...
’Insane.’
But.
The words died on his lips, and Chen Zhuo swallowed them back down.
He looked at the smudge of black ash on the tip of Zhang Qiang’s nose and at his hands, which were slightly red from the cold wind.
This was Zhang Qiang’s logic.
Clumsy, ridiculous, and completely unscientific.
But it was warm.
It was scalding hot.
"Alright."
A smile touched the corners of Chen Zhuo’s lips.
"Let’s give these Einsteins of the walnut world a try, then."
"You got it!"
Zhang Qiang was thrilled.
He grabbed the two largest walnuts from the bag, one in each hand.
"Just wait, Brother Zhuo, I’ll crack them for you! I’m strong!"
Zhang Qiang took a deep breath, centered his qi, and squeezed the two walnuts in his palm with all his might.
"Krr... ngh..."
Zhang Qiang’s face turned red with effort.
The walnuts didn’t budge.
These were old-tree walnuts, aged and with shells as thick as armored plating. There was no way a grade-schooler had the hand strength to crack them.
"I... I don’t believe this!"
Refusing to give up, Zhang Qiang changed his grip, clasping both hands together and squeezing again.
Aside from making his palms ache, the walnuts remained perfectly intact.
"Sigh. That’s enough."
Chen Zhuo got out of bed, slid on his slippers, and walked to the back of the bedroom door.
He picked up two walnuts and went over to the doorframe.
It was an old-fashioned wooden door with slightly loose hinges, creating a gap just big enough for a walnut.
A doorjamb—the world’s best nutcracker.
Chen Zhuo stuck a walnut into the gap near the hinges.
Chen Zhuo grasped the doorknob and gently pulled it inward.
"CRACK!"
A crisp cracking sound.
The "Einstein" that had been indestructible in Zhang Qiang’s hands was instantly crushed to bits.
Chen Zhuo let go and caught the falling walnut meat.
Shell and kernel separated, clean and neat.
"Here."
Chen Zhuo handed the walnut meat to Zhang Qiang.
"Eat up."
Zhang Qiang was dumbfounded.
He looked at his own hands, then at the door.
"Brother Zhuo... What you just did was..."
"Physics."
Chen Zhuo cracked another one. CRACK.
"The principle of leverage. Chapter one of eighth-grade physics."
He popped this piece of walnut into his own mouth.
He chewed.
It was a bit astringent, with the slightly rancid taste characteristic of old walnuts, but the aftertaste was fragrant.
"Is it good?" Zhang Qiang asked.
"Not bad," Chen Zhuo nodded.
"It’s quite fragrant."
"Of course!"
Zhang Qiang immediately forgot his earlier embarrassment and started chuckling foolishly.
"How could the ones I picked not be fragrant? They’re full of brains... no, wait, full of wisdom!"
The rain was still falling.
The light inside the room was a warm yellow.
The two boys sat on the living room floor, a pile of walnut shells in front of them.
"Brother Zhuo, how come that guy Xu Zhu is so lucky?"
Zhang Qiang chatted idly as he struggled to pick out the walnut meat.
"I just don’t get how he managed to solve the Zhenlong Chessboard. I wish someone would transfer seventy years of internal energy to me, then I wouldn’t have to memorize those stupid English vocabulary words."
"That’s fiction."
Chen Zhuo leaned back against the sofa, chewing on a walnut, and picked up the copy of Eighteen Chapters of the Celestial Dragon again.
"In reality, there’s no Wuya Zi, only Old Zhou and Old Zhao."
"Besides,"
Chen Zhuo glanced at Zhang Qiang.
"Solving the Zhenlong Chessboard was about finding victory in a hopeless situation. What you want is to get something for nothing."
"Hey, I was just daydreaming."
Zhang Qiang stuffed a large piece of walnut into his mouth.
"Brother Zhuo, do you think if I eat this whole bag of walnuts, I’ll be able to get into the No. 1 Middle School next year?"
Chen Zhuo looked at him.
"Just eating walnuts won’t be enough."
"Huh? Then what else should I eat? Pig brains?"
"You also have to do your practice problems."
Chen Zhuo pointed at Zhang Qiang’s school bag.
"Take out your math workbook. That word problem from yesterday, about two people starting at Point A and walking in opposite directions... how did you calculate that they ended up crashing into each other?"
The smile on Zhang Qiang’s face instantly froze.
"Bro... it’s Sunday..."
"You have to replenish your brain on Sundays, too."
Chen Zhuo swept the walnut shells into the trash can and clapped his hands clean.
"Walnuts are a hardware upgrade. Doing problems is a software installation. Hardware without software is just a brick."
"Get to it."
"Oh..."
With a pained expression, Zhang Qiang reluctantly started digging through his school bag.
But deep down, he didn’t actually mind.
He looked at Chen Zhuo’s face, which, though still calm, now had a bit of color back in it.
And at the pile of cracked walnut shells.
He felt his trip hadn’t been for nothing.
’Who cares about the principle of leverage? Who cares about calculus? As long as Brother Zhuo is still willing to eat the walnuts I bought, still willing to call me dumb, and still willing to force me to do my homework, then everything is fine.’
"Brother Zhuo, here’s what I was thinking. See, Person A walks slow, and Person B walks fast. The Earth is round, so if they keep walking, won’t they just loop back around and meet..."
"Shut up. This is plane geometry, not a trip around the world."
"Oh."
Outside the window, the rain gradually stopped.

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