Chen Zhuo finished the last bite of his apple, tossed the core into the nearby wastebasket, and pulled out a tissue to wipe his hands.
"Perfectly normal."
Chen Zhuo tossed the wadded-up tissue away, a hint of a casual smile in his voice.
Dayong turned to look at him.
"People who deal in theory have a common weakness."
Chen Zhuo picked up a gel pen from the desk and spun it once in his hand.
"They always think the world will obediently operate according to the formulas they write. When an error pops up, their first reaction is that their formula isn’t complex enough, rather than wondering if a pipe somewhere wasn’t fastened on tight."
Chen Zhuo looked at Dayong and said self-deprecatingly.
"If it were me, I’d probably be the same. I’d likely be staring at the screen looking for bugs in the algorithm; it would never occur to me to check if the water-cooling pipes were tight."
Dayong nodded repeatedly as he listened to Chen Zhuo.
"Professor Liu said the same thing."
Dayong grinned.
"When Professor Liu saw I’d found the problem, he told me to go get the machine’s structural diagrams tomorrow. He wants me to calculate the stress myself, then use channel steel and a jack to build a new chassis for it to disperse the stress."
Dayong rubbed his hands together, his eyes shining with excitement.
"This is my kind of job. I’m good at laying foundations."
"That’s great."
Chen Zhuo smiled.
He tapped the pen in his hand lightly on the desk twice.
"Next time the lab has one of these bullshit errors, just take a wrench and knock on that iron frame. Tell them that in the real world, friction exists."
Chen Zhuo tilted his head slightly, his tone holding a friendly, teasing note.
"You, right now, are the physical patch for their theory."
Dayong was about to grab a washbasin, but when he heard this term, his hand paused.
’A physical patch...’
Dayong pulled out the washbasin, casually tossed the foot-towel from the back of the chair into it, and chuckled to himself with his head down.
"You guys who read English books all day are something else. Always coming up with new phrases."
He stood up, dusted off his hands, and accepted the joke naturally.
"Fine by me. From now on, you guys can build your houses on paper, and I’ll be underneath laying the bricks for you, specializing in taming all those stubborn chunks of metal."
He turned and went into the bathroom.
Chen Zhuo turned back to face his own desk.
He didn’t open the topology journal. Instead, he reached down and pulled open the bottom drawer of his desk.
From the very back of the drawer, Chen Zhuo took out a ridiculously thick, large, black hardcover notebook.
Its edges were slightly worn and faded white from frequent use.
This was the fruit of his labor over the past half-semester, pieced together bit by bit during his spare moments in the library or the dorm.
Chen Zhuo opened the notebook.
A foolproof guide for passing the high school entrance exam, custom-tailored for the brain capacity of his childhood friend, Zhang Qiang.
Chen Zhuo knew Zhang Qiang all too well.
The fatty would get drowsy at the mere sight of a complex stress-analysis diagram. He’d be completely lost whenever he encountered a geometry proof. Trying to explain the laws of physics or mathematical logic to him was like playing a lute to a cow.
So, in this notebook, Chen Zhuo had completely abandoned conventional teaching methods, opting instead for pure, brute-force solutions.
This wasn’t about making Zhang Qiang fall in love with science; it was a simple, crude instruction manual purely for tackling the upcoming high school entrance exam.
Chen Zhuo picked up a marker from the desk and flipped to the first blank page of the notebook.
He didn’t write anything sentimental. He simply wrote four large words in the center of the page:
"Read this, or else."
Next to it, he drew a small arrow pointing toward the edge of the page.
Finished, he capped the pen and closed the heavy black notebook.
Winter break was just a few days away. Chen Zhuo turned, opened his closet door, and pulled out his backpack.
He folded a change of clothes and put them inside, then placed the black notebook neatly at the very bottom of the backpack before zipping it up.
A scene had already begun to play out involuntarily in his mind.
It would probably be the morning of the second day of the Lunar New Year.
The residential complex would surely be covered in the red debris of firecrackers, the air thick with the smell of gunpowder.
Zhang Qiang’s house would be warm and bustling, the coffee table piled high with sunflower seeds and sugar tangerines.
The fatty would definitely be wearing a new jacket, his pockets stuffed with freshly received red envelope money, already plotting which arcade to drag him to in the afternoon to play *The King of Fighters*.
Then, he would show up at the door with New Year’s gifts.
While Zhang Qiang’s parents were greeting him enthusiastically, serving tea and water, he would smile, unzip his backpack, and in front of the adults, take out this thick, black notebook and place it firmly on the coffee table.
"Uncle, Auntie, this is a study guide for the high school entrance exam that I put together for Qiangzi in my spare time at Keda. As long as he memorizes it over winter break, getting into City No.1 High School will be no problem."
Chen Zhuo could even clearly predict every step that would follow.
Zhang Qiang’s parents would be so moved their eyes would light up. They would treasure the notebook like some legendary martial arts manual, then immediately turn on Zhang Qiang with a full-blown parental pressure assault.
"Look at Xiaozhuo! He’s in university and he’s still thinking about you! Qiangzi, hurry up and thank him! This winter break, you’re not going anywhere. You’re staying home and mastering this notebook for me!"
And that fatty, faced with a tag-team assault from his parents and the "great gift" from his friend, wouldn’t even have the right to refuse.
He would have no choice but to accept the notebook with trembling hands amidst the festive New Year atmosphere, forcing a smile that was uglier than a crying face.
There was no escape. Absolutely no escape.
At this thought, Chen Zhuo leaned back in his chair and let out a soft laugh in the quiet of the dorm room.

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