All that was left of the entire circuit diagram was red, blue, and a few light bulbs and resistors sandwiched in between.
"I’m done coloring," Zhang Qiang said.
"Now, memorize three rules."
Chen Zhuo held up one finger.
"First, look at a light bulb on the diagram. If the left side of the bulb is a red line and the right side is also a red line, or if the left side is a blue line and the right side is also a blue line..."
Chen Zhuo looked at Zhang Qiang.
"...it won’t light up."
Zhang Qiang was stunned.
His gaze immediately shot to bulb L2 on the test paper.
Above bulb L2 was a line he had just colored red, and below it, a wire connected directly to the positive terminal, which he had also colored red.
Both ends were red.
"It really won’t light up?" Zhang Qiang asked.
"It won’t. That’s called being short-circuited."
Chen Zhuo didn’t explain why.
"Rule two: if a red line directly touches a blue line with no light bulb in between..."
Chen Zhuo tapped a finger on the tabletop.
"...the battery explodes. It means the problem is wrong, or you drew it wrong."
Zhang Qiang quickly glanced at the full diagram. The red and blue sections were clearly divided and didn’t touch.
"Rule three."
Chen Zhuo pointed to the circle with a "V" in it.
"A voltmeter is a giant rock. When your pen gets to it, it can’t pass. It just stops."
Chen Zhuo then pointed to the circle with an "A" in it.
"An ammeter is an empty water pipe. Your pen goes right through it. Just pretend it’s not there."
After stating these three rules, Chen Zhuo said no more.
He picked up the milk carton from the edge of the desk again and bit down on the straw.
Zhang Qiang lowered his head.
His eyes were glued to the complex, comprehensive problem that had driven him crazy for the last half hour.
He didn’t try to recall any of the theories Old Zhou had taught in class.
He didn’t think about voltage, current, or Ohm’s law.
In his eyes, there was only red and blue.
The first question on the test: When S1 is closed and S2 is open, which bulbs light up?
Zhang Qiang looked at the diagram.
L1 had a red line on its left and a blue line on its right. Red met blue.
L2 had red lines on both top and bottom.
L3’s left side was connected to the open switch S2, so it wasn’t colored in.
"L1 lights up."
Zhang Qiang blurted out.
There was no hesitation.
The second question: Whose voltage is the voltmeter measuring?
Zhang Qiang looked at the circle marked with a "V."
The V’s left terminal was connected to a red line. Following that red line, it connected to the left side of bulb L1.
Its right terminal was connected to a blue line. Following that blue line, it connected to the right side of bulb L1.
It was positioned right at the red-blue border of L1.
"It’s measuring the voltage of L1."
Zhang Qiang blurted out again.
The study fell silent for a few seconds. The hum of the air conditioner seemed to grow a little louder.
Zhang Qiang sat frozen, still holding his pen.
He snapped his head up and stared at Chen Zhuo.
His eyes were wide.
"What the fuck?"
Zhang Qiang’s lips moved.
"That’s it? It’s solved?"
Chen Zhuo sipped his milk, ignoring him.
"I don’t have to worry about how the current flows? Or the distribution ratio?"
Zhang Qiang stared at the test paper, his voice rising unconsciously.
"It’s just like a fucking kindergartener coloring in a book? Just slap on some red and blue, and the problem is solved?"
Chen Zhuo released the straw.
"Is it solved or not?"
"It’s solved."
Zhang Qiang swallowed hard.
He snatched up his workbook and flipped forward two pages.
He found an even more disgusting, messier final problem.
Five switches, three bulbs, and one sliding rheostat.
Zhang Qiang didn’t even bother reading the dense block of text under the problem description.
He just uncapped his pen.
Red pen, starting from the positive terminal.
At a junction, the path split in two.
Stop at a bulb, pass through a closed switch.
Switch to the blue pen.
Start from the negative terminal.
Pass through the ammeter, stop at a resistor.
In less than a minute, the maze-like black and white circuit diagram had transformed into an incredibly intuitive red-versus-blue battleground.
Zhang Qiang looked down at the questions.
First question.
He looked at the diagram.
"L2 is short-circuited. L1 and L3 are in parallel."
Second question.
He looked at the diagram.
"Ammeter A1 measures the main circuit, A2 measures L3."
The pen in Zhang Qiang’s hand fell onto the desk.
He shot up from his chair as if he’d been electrocuted.
He stared at the red and blue lines he had drawn, feeling an unprecedented thrill of sheer intellectual dominance.
The ninth-grade physics that had plagued him for a whole week.
Those invisible, intangible potential differences and current flows.
Had been dumbed down by Chen Zhuo and two highlighters into a brain-dead coloring game.
No need to understand the principles.
No need to understand the logic.
All you needed was to recognize red and blue, and know to stop your pen at a light bulb.
All the hidden traps, all the complex parallel and series circuits, were laid bare.
Zhang Qiang was so excited his face flushed red.
He planted both hands on the desk and whipped his head around to look at Chen Zhuo.
"Brother Zhuo!"
Zhang Qiang’s voice cracked as he shouted.
"You’re a god, aren’t you!"
Chen Zhuo sat in the swivel chair, chewing on the straw and sucking up the last bit of milk with a SLURP SLURP SLURP.
"This god would like to use the computer now."
Chen Zhuo held the empty carton and looked at Zhang Qiang.
"Can you play this little coloring game on your own now?"
"I can! I totally can!"
Zhang Qiang immediately started nodding furiously.
He snatched up the workbook and stuffed the red and blue pens into his shirt.
He stood up nimbly and backed away from the computer desk area.
"Brother Zhuo, use it however you want! Play whatever you want! If I don’t finish coloring this entire workbook today, then my last name isn’t Zhang!"
Zhang Qiang grabbed a small stool and plopped down next to the coffee table on the other side of the room.
He spread the workbook out on the coffee table.
Uncapping the red pen, he began a frenzied coloring spree without even looking up.
As he colored, he muttered to himself.
"Red... red... stop here."
"Blue... blue... pass through."
"Red on top and bottom. You don’t light up. Go to hell."
Watching Zhang Qiang descend into a frenzied problem-solving state, Chen Zhuo gave a helpless smile.
He turned around to face the computer desk.
With a flick of his wrist, the empty milk carton in his hand traced a parabola through the air.
With a soft THUD, it landed precisely in the plastic trash can at the corner of the desk.
Chen Zhuo retracted his hand.
His gaze fell on the bulky computer in front of him.
The screen was on.
The desktop background was a low-resolution wallpaper from the game *Legend*, showing a warrior with a Dragon-Slaying Saber, posed as if to strike a monster.
Chen Zhuo reached out and gripped the grayish-white rollerball mouse.
Chen Zhuo moved his wrist, and the white arrow on the screen slid over the blade of the Dragon-Slaying Saber.
It stopped in the upper-left corner, passing over icons for *Westward Journey Online II*, *TTPlayer*, *Bubble Fighter*...
The arrow moved past these colorful icons.
It stopped on a penguin icon wearing a red scarf. A rectangular login box popped up in the center of the screen.
Zhang Qiang’s WhatsApp number was still saved in the input field.
Chen Zhuo hit the backspace key, clearing Zhang Qiang’s number.
He typed in a relatively short WhatsApp number, then entered the password and hit enter.
The penguin on the screen began to sway back and forth.
The internet connection was slow; the penguin swayed for about five or six seconds.
Suddenly, a coughing sound came from the speakers.
"*Cough, cough.*"

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