"You were gone in a flash."
Old Zhao watched the tea leaves unfurl in his cup, let out a long sigh, and leaned back on the sofa.
"That bunch of little rascals from your old seventh-grade Class One are all in ninth grade now. In the blink of an eye, they’re about to have their high school entrance exams."
Old Zhao shook his head, tapped his fingers on his knee twice, and his brow furrowed again.
"We just got the results from last semester’s final mock exam before the new year. Ai, it’s enough to worry a man to death."
"Liu Fei and the others?"
Chen Zhuo asked casually while eating an orange.
"Who else but that little monkey!"
Hearing the name, Old Zhao’s voice jumped an octave, a mix of amusement and exasperation.
"That Liu Fei, he’s shot up to over 1.8 meters tall. Sits in the back row looking like an iron tower, but he’s still just as mischievous. Can’t sit still in class. But now that he’s in ninth grade, seeing the countdown on the blackboard, he’s finally learned to worry."
Old Zhao cursed with a laugh.
"After the final exam, his politics score was a little low. Now, during every morning study hall, he’s in the hallway shouting his politics notes at the top of his lungs, his face all red. You can hear him from the floor below."
"Just the other day, that kid was bragging in class."
Old Zhao leaned forward slightly, looking at Chen Zhuo.
"Ninth grade is stressful, so I thought I’d play some soft music for them during evening study hall to help them relax. But what does he do? He runs up to the podium and tells the other students, ’You call this relaxing? Back when I was in seventh grade, I followed you, and we covered all the classroom windows with old newspapers and used test papers. We made a pinhole camera and watched a ’movie’ in the middle of the day.’"
Old Zhou chimed in from the side.
"That’s the most basic phenomenon in optics. What’s there to brag about? You didn’t even use a lens. The resulting image must have been completely blurry around the edges."
"You don’t get it. In the students’ eyes, it was fun, it was exciting."
Old Zhao ignored Old Zhou and continued speaking to Chen Zhuo.
"I still remember that afternoon. I was patrolling the hallways and walked up to your Class One’s door. It was pitch black inside, and I thought you were all up to no good. I threw the door open, ready to lose my temper."
As Old Zhao spoke, his gaze grew distant, as if he were seeing that day all over again.
"But when I went in, I saw it: projected on the back wall of the classroom was an upside-down image of the French plane tree from our sports field, and that fat kid from Class Two playing basketball. The whole class, all fifty-plus of them, were sitting there in the dark, watching quietly."
Old Zhao couldn’t help but laugh.
"To this day, that kid thinks it’s the coolest, most impressive thing he did in his three years of middle school. Every time he brags to kids from other classes, he has to bring you up. He says, ’The prodigy Chen Zhuo directed me to tape up the newspapers, and I had the highest spot!’ Now, the ninth graders from other classes think you guys conducted some kind of large-scale scientific experiment in your classroom back then."
Chen Zhuo listened quietly, his expression softening.
His mind involuntarily drifted back to that sweltering autumn afternoon.
The air thick with the strange smell of chalk dust and sun-baked plastic book covers.
Liu Fei, shirtless, standing on a desk taping up newspapers, shouting for more tape while drenched in sweat. The upside-down world on the white wall. And the girls secretly passing him tomato-flavored potato chips and AD Calcium milk with the straws already in.
’Compared to the high-dimensional topological matrices in the Keda labs now, all of that was incredibly crude and lacked any semblance of rigor, but it was so vivid it made him want to smile without even realizing it.’
"And it’s not just Liu Fei."
Old Zhao took a sip of tea to wet his throat, his tone tinged with a bit more emotion.
He pointed at Chen Zhuo.
"There’s also Li Xiaoya, and that desk-mate of yours who wore braces."
"That little group of girls... back then, they were always hovering around you, absolutely smitten. Now that they’re in ninth grade, they spend all day at their desks chewing on their pens, frowning over comprehensive geometry problems and the final, most difficult physics questions."
Old Zhao began to imitate them, adopting the affected tone of a young girl.
"Before the final exam, Li Xiaoya even ran to the office to ask me, ’Teacher Zhao, is little brother Chen Zhuo coming back for the break? This final problem combining a quadratic function and a circle is too hard! If he were here, he could definitely explain it to us in ten minutes.’"
Old Zhao chuckled to himself after he finished.
"Look at you. You’re already in college, but in their hearts, you’re still the little brother who’s supposed to explain problems to them. They really miss you."
Chen Zhuo smiled.
He placed the orange peel in his hand on the table and pulled out a tissue to wipe his fingers.
"Teacher Zhao."
Chen Zhuo looked at Old Zhao, his tone very serious.
"I’ve taken some time these past few days to organize something."
"I’m re-organizing and summarizing a collection of common mistakes in middle school math, physics, and chemistry, along with some notes I think they could use now—especially for those tricky trap questions. Once I get back and finish categorizing them, I’ll send them over to you."
Chen Zhuo said gently.
"When the time comes, please help me make copies and hand them out. Consider it a little help for their high school entrance exams from their ’on-the-cheap’ little brother. I hope it can help them save some time on calculations."
After hearing this, Old Zhao nodded repeatedly, the smile on his face deepening.
"That’s fantastic! Your notes are like a martial arts secret manual in their eyes right now! With your ready-made problem-solving strategies, they could save at least ten-plus minutes on the multiple-choice and fill-in-the-blank sections!"
At the mention of notes and problem sets, Old Zhao’s tone suddenly shifted.
He sat up straight, his smile fading slightly, replaced by a serious expression filled with a powerful sense of responsibility.
"Speaking of problem sets, your childhood friend, Zhang Qiang."
Old Zhao stressed the name.
"He’s in my class now!"
"When you graduated and left, you came to find me specifically. You entrusted him to me in my office, with your own words. How could I not take what you asked seriously? How could I not keep an eye on him?"
Old Zhao picked up his teacup as if to quell the fire in his heart, then set it down heavily again.
"That kid... he’s honest, and loyal. When it’s time for class chores, he’s faster than anyone. But his brain for math... it just won’t click!"
Old Zhao’s eyes widened as he drew a triangle in the air with his right hand.
"The auxiliary line for an isosceles triangle! I’ve drawn it on the board three times, over and over! I told him, ’When you see an isosceles triangle, think of the three-line congruence! Just draw the altitude, and the problem solves itself!’"
Old Zhao wore an expression of someone furious at a protegé for failing to live up to expectations.
"But what happens on the test? He stares at the paper for twenty minutes, and in the end, he draws a circle *outside* the triangle! I asked him why he drew a circle, and he said it ’looked better’!"
Chen Zhuo pictured Zhang Qiang’s long, suffering face and the inexplicable circle on his test paper. He couldn’t help it; the corners of his mouth turned up, and he reached up to rub his forehead.
"I’ve really gone all out to keep an eye on him."
Old Zhao leaned in a little closer and lowered his voice, as if sharing some top-secret military tactic.
"Now, during morning study hall, I don’t do anything else. I just stand by the window on the back door and stare him down."
Old Zhao pointed to his own eyes and made an expression of an extremely stern death glare.
"If he dares to secretly read *Comics Friend* under his desk, or play with that damn mini-4WD motor of his, or even just yawns, I’ll call on him to answer questions three times in a single period. After class, I drag him straight to my office, make him sit on a small stool next to me, and do two extra test papers. He’s not allowed to go to the cafeteria until he’s finished!"
Chen Zhuo really couldn’t hold it in any longer. He let out a soft cough, half-hiding the look of helplessness on his face.
He didn’t dare to imagine the living hell Zhang Qiang must be going through.
Targeted by the death glare of his homeroom teacher, who was also the head of the entire grade level.
’Zhang Qiang probably curses my name in his head eight hundred times a day. No wonder I’ve been sneezing so much ever since I got to Keda.’
Old Zhao didn’t notice Chen Zhuo’s reaction and grew more and more animated, even taking on a slightly humblebragging tone.
"The other day, at the eighth-grade faculty meeting, I laid it all out in front of all the other teachers."
Old Zhao slapped the arm of the sofa, his voice booming.
"I, Old Zhao, have taught a once-in-a-generation prodigy like you, Chen Zhuo. If I can’t even get a stubborn rock like Zhang Qiang into the high school division of our City No.1 Middle School, then my reputation, my ’Old Zhao’ brand, will be smashed to bits in this school! I won’t be able to show my face!"
"Even if Zhang Qiang is just a piece of raw iron, I’ll spend these two years forging him into refined steel!"
Chen Zhuo sat there, maintaining his smile, and silently lit a candle for Zhang Qiang in his heart.
Old Zhou, who had been sitting silently beside them, listening to Old Zhao’s long-winded speech, could finally take it no more.
He set his teacup down on the coffee table with a CLACK.
"Oh, give it a rest, Old Zhao."
Old Zhou pursed his lips, mercilessly puncturing Old Zhao’s self-congratulatory moment.
"So what if Zhang Qiang’s foundation is weak? Back in elementary school, who knows how long Chen Zhuo spent personally tutoring him to build that foundation? Who knows how hard that kid had to grind just to test into this middle school?"
Old Zhou shot Old Zhao a look of utter disdain.
"Don’t take all the credit for the kid’s progress. ’Forging him into steel’...? Just make sure you don’t ’forge’ him into depression. That whole ’drown them in a sea of practice problems’ tactic of yours will grind all the spirit out of the boy sooner or later."
"How am I taking credit? If I don’t watch him like a hawk, will he even study?"
Old Zhao’s neck stiffened as he retorted.
"You call that watching him? You’re breaking him like a falcon!"
"So what if I am? The entrance exam only looks at scores! As long as it gets results! If he doesn’t memorize the formulas, how is he supposed to get points?"
"What’s the damn use of rote memorization? He needs to understand the physical concepts!"
And so, the two old men, with a combined age of nearly one hundred, once again launched into their well-practiced, daily bickering in the living room, all over the matter of Zhang Qiang’s studies.
Chen Zhuo sat on the small stool, watching the two teachers bicker before him. Listening to the slightly echoing clamor in the room, he felt a sense of ease.
It was an ease he never felt at Keda when discussing high-concurrency servers with Chu Ge, nor in the old library while deriving probability theory from foreign journals with Su Wei.
This was Zeyang.
His most stable anchor point since being reborn.
Several rounds of tea were drunk, and the sky gradually darkened.
Chen Zhuo glanced at the wall clock and stood up.
"Teacher Zhou, Teacher Zhao, it’s getting late. My mom is still at home waiting for me for dinner."
Old Zhao immediately stood up as well. He wanted to ask him to stay for dinner, but then he remembered Liu Xiuying must have already prepared a meal and be waiting at home, so he didn’t insist.
"Alright, you should head back then. Be careful on the way, and put on your hat."
Old Zhao walked Chen Zhuo to the door and watched him change his shoes, unable to resist nagging him one more time.
"When you go back to Huizhou in a couple of days, study hard. Call more when you have time. And don’t worry about Zhang Qiang. I’m watching him; he won’t get into any serious trouble."
Old Zhou didn’t come to see him off, remaining on the sofa, fiddling with his unfinished chess game.
Just as Chen Zhuo finished changing his shoes and opened the door to leave, Old Zhou’s voice drifted over from the living room.
"Kid."
Chen Zhuo turned back.
Old Zhou was holding a rook, his gaze fixed on the chessboard, not looking at him.
"Once the wind tunnel work is done, take a break. Don’t push yourself too hard. Physics... sometimes it’s like holding sand in your hand. The tighter you squeeze, the faster it slips away."
Old Zhou pushed the rook to the baseline.
"When your mind is tired, you need to rest. Go on."
Chen Zhuo stood at the door, looking at Old Zhou’s messy hair and Old Zhao’s neat sideburns.
"I understand, Teacher Zhou, Teacher Zhao. You two take care of yourselves. I’m leaving."
The door closed softly.
Leaving the warmth, the scent of tea, and the faint sound of bickering inside.
Chen Zhuo walked down the stairs. When the cold wind hit him, he pulled the zipper of his jacket up a little higher.
He replayed Old Zhao’s description of the "death glare" in his mind. He let out a soft sigh into the cold wind, but a slight smile hung on his lips.
’Tomorrow, I have to pay a visit to Zhang Qiang’s house.’
’Old Zhao’s falcon-breaking method alone won’t work. For someone with a one-track mind like Zhang Qiang, it’ll just drive him crazy.’
’I’d better go over and take a look myself.’

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