Chen Zhuo walked out of the School of Physics building. A blast of wind hit him, and he couldn’t help but pull up the zipper on his jacket.
He walked slowly, his hands shoved in his pockets.
Through the layer of fabric, his right hand could clearly feel the bank card in his inner pocket.
Two million.
That number was now resting quietly against his chest.
Chen Zhuo didn’t look back at the industrial-looking School of Physics building, nor did he take out the card to look at it again.
The biggest weight in his life had finally been lifted.
He could get his family a better house and let his parents live a little more comfortably. It was good. It couldn’t be better.
Once a person’s basic needs for survival and security are met, their mind becomes exceptionally clear.
Chen Zhuo rounded a corner and followed a small path across campus toward the School of Mathematics’s little red brick building.
The School of Mathematics building was old. Ivy crept up through the cracks in the red bricks all the way to the third-floor windowsills, its leaves already starting to turn red this season.
Chen Zhuo climbed the steps to the second floor.
At the end of the hallway was Li Jianming’s office. The door wasn’t shut completely, leaving a crack.
Chen Zhuo reached out and pushed the door open.
The office was a bit of a mess, but it was the kind of mess that fit the image of an old mathematician. The bookshelves lining two walls were stuffed to the brim, and some hefty journals were even piled on the floor.
"It’s jammed. Jammed again."
By the coffee table across from the desk, Wu Tao was squatting on the floor with no regard for his appearance, holding a stapler and staring helplessly at the old-fashioned printer beside him.
The printer’s indicator light flashed red as it emitted a grating, screeching sound that set one’s teeth on edge.
Li Jianming sat behind his large desk, a pair of reading glasses perched on his nose. He paid no mind to the student squatting on the floor. Leaning forward slightly, his right hand gripped the mouse, his eyes glued to the bulky monitor in front of him.
He clicked the mouse.
Li Jianming didn’t move. He stared at the screen for a moment, then released the mouse in frustration and picked up the Zisha teapot beside him to take a sip.
"Still not here?"
Wu Tao asked, looking back as he reached in to pull the jammed A4 paper from the printer.
"What’s the rush? There’s a time difference with the United States."
Li Jianming replied, his voice laced with an anxiety he couldn’t quite conceal.
Chen Zhuo stood at the door, a slight smile playing on his lips as he watched the scene.
He walked in, closing the door behind him.
"Professor, Wu Tao."
Hearing the voice, Wu Tao stood up, holding a torn piece of printer paper. He dusted the toner from his hands.
"Oh, Chen Zhuo, you’re here. Find a seat yourself. I’m busy wrestling with this piece of junk. For the November defense, the school insists we use this specific paper for formatting. It’s such a pain."
Wu Tao pointed to the messy stack of wasted paper on the coffee table, his voice filled with exhaustion.
Chen Zhuo walked over to the water cooler, pulled a disposable cup from the dispenser next to it, and poured himself some warm water.
"Is your defense presentation done?"
Chen Zhuo carried the cup to the sofa and sat down.
"Finished it a while ago. Now I’m just struggling with the formatting."
Wu Tao sighed and glanced guiltily at Li Jianming.
"As long as my advisor doesn’t blow a fuse, I should be golden."
Chen Zhuo smiled but didn’t reply, turning to look at Li Jianming behind the desk.
The old professor was just pulling his gaze away from the screen. He took off his reading glasses, tossed them on the desk, and pinched the bridge of his nose.
"The acceptance letter from the *Mathematical Annals*?" Chen Zhuo asked.
Li Jianming nodded and let out a long sigh through his nose.
"The last time you were here, the editorial department replied saying the peer review feedback was all compiled. No fundamental issues, no major revisions required. And they still haven’t sent it over."
Li Jianming pointed at the computer screen.
"These past few days, whenever I have a spare moment, I just sit here staring at my inbox. The efficiency of those foreigners is just abysmal."
Chen Zhuo looked at Li Jianming.
This was an old professor with an extremely high standing in the country’s mathematics community, a man who had mentored countless titans in the field.
But right now, faced with a journal like the *Mathematical Annals*, one of the world’s top publications in pure mathematics, he still acted like an undergraduate waiting for his final exam results.
"No need to rush," Chen Zhuo said. "The logical chain is complete. The lower bound problem in graph theory has been nailed down completely. They won’t be able to find any flaws."
Li Jianming looked at Chen Zhuo’s nonchalant expression and couldn’t help but shake his head.
"Easy for you to say. You’re the first author. The moment that email arrives, the entire mathematics circle in this country is going to erupt. You’ll be inundated with invitations to seminars and conferences."
"Then I’ll have to trouble you to deal with them for me first."
Chen Zhuo set the paper cup on the coffee table, neatly sidestepping the responsibility with a single sentence.
Li Jianming let out an exasperated laugh and pointed a finger at him.
"Alright, enough with the clever remarks. You never just drop by for no reason. Weren’t you roped in by that Alchemist to work on the wind tunnel data for some high-speed train nose cone over at the School of Physics? How do you have time to come loafing around my office?"
Wu Tao also pulled up a chair and sat down nearby, looking at Chen Zhuo with curiosity.
Chen Zhuo didn’t answer right away.
He reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out several sheets of A4 paper, folded in half.
The papers were a little wrinkled, covered in dense, black ink handwriting.
Chen Zhuo flattened the sheets, placed them on the coffee table, and then pushed them to the edge of Li Jianming’s desk.
"The trouble over at Physics is solved."
Chen Zhuo’s voice was calm, with no hint of seeking credit or showing off.
"I took your advice and threw out the entire geometric mesh for the train’s nose cone. I wrote a polynomial using algebraic isomorphism, the matrix ran successfully on the supercomputer, and the convergence was beautiful."

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