A few electricians squeezed into the room, carrying a hunk of iron half the height of a man.
"Where do you want it?" one of the workers asked.
Old Ma pointed to the empty space under Chen Zhuo’s desk.
"Right there. Set it down gently, this thing’s expensive."
The hunk of iron landed with an unusually dull thud.
"A voltage regulator?"
Chu Ge recognized it at a glance. He pointed at the gray iron box with heat vents.
"Sir, this is an industrial-grade model, the kind for precision labs. Are you installing it in our dorm? You haven’t got the wrong room, have you?"
Old Ma didn’t answer Chu Ge, instead directing the electricians to start pulling a gray cable down from the hallway ceiling.
Chen Zhuo, sitting on the top bunk, felt a draft from the workers’ movements. A bit of dust drifted down from the ceiling.
He sighed softly, closed the Russian book in his hands, and leaned over to gather the few sheets of scratch paper scattered around his bed. He tucked them under his pillow, then shifted further inward, quietly watching them bustle about below.
Wang Dayong didn’t move out of the way. He was staring at the carpenter who was removing the old door.
"Sir, this door..."
"Kid, this door is going to the logistics warehouse from now on."
Old Ma chimed in from the side.
"We’re giving you a new one. Anti-theft, soundproof, and anti-magnetic."
The screwdriver in the carpenter’s hand spun rapidly. In no time, the old door was unhinged.
Several workers, grunting in unison, carried in a dark gray security door. It was astonishingly heavy; even with four grown men lifting it, they were all gritting their teeth.
CLANG. The doorframe slid into place.
The electricians were just as efficient. A thick gray cable was run along the corner of the wall, pulled directly to Chen Zhuo’s desk, its end fitted with a metal connector.
Old Ma stood at the doorway, watching the door get installed. It was a perfect fit.
He let out a long breath and glanced up at Chen Zhuo on the top bunk.
"Classmate Chen, I’ll let you get back to it. I’ve left the key for this door on the desk. Keep it safe. Remember to close the door behind you from now on. It has a great seal, so no one outside will be able to hear you talking in here."
Old Ma waved at the top bunk, then led the workers out like a gust of wind.
The hallway fell silent again.
But inside the room, a new, extremely heavy and oppressive feeling had settled in.
Wang Dayong walked over and laid a hand on the newly installed security door. It was ice-cold. Tapping on the steel plate produced no hollow echo—it was solid through and through.
He pushed the door shut with a little effort.
"CLICK."
The sound of the lock engaging was crisp and heavy.
With that sound, the footsteps in the hallway and the noise from the neighboring dorms seemed to be instantly and completely cut off.
It was so quiet in Dorm 215 you could hear your own breathing.
Wang Dayong turned around. He looked at the voltage regulator on the floor, scratched his head, and his wary expression melted away, replaced by a silly grin.
"Xiaozhuo, this door is solid! And look at the specs on this regulator—the dorm manager definitely won’t be able to trip our breaker anymore when we sneakily use the immersion heater to cook noodles at night."
Chen Zhuo smiled but didn’t reply, climbing down from the top bunk.
Chu Ge, however, was in no mood to hear Dayong talk about cooking noodles.
His eyes were glued to the gray cable that had just been pulled in and was now on the desk.
"Enterprise-grade fiber optic."
Chu Ge licked his lips and nimbly plugged the cable into the network port on Chen Zhuo’s computer.
"Giving our dorm this kind of broadband is a total waste. Whatever, I have to see just how beastly this thing is."
Chu Ge sat back down in his swivel chair and clicked the blue "e" icon.
There was no sign of the usual sluggish progress bar.
The page popped up almost instantly.
The homepage of Keda’s campus BBS, "Vast Sea of Stars," filled the screen.
"Holy shit, it really did open in a second."
Chu Ge cried out in amazement. He was about to turn and show off to Dayong, but his gaze was snagged by a section on the right side of the screen.
On the right side of the homepage was the list of the top ten trending topics.
Today, all the colors on it had changed.
From the first topic to the tenth, every single one was followed by a blood-red tag: [EXPLODING].
Chu Ge slowly straightened his neck, leaning closer to the screen.
First: [SHOCKER! Identity of 13-year-old Genius from the Junior Class, Chen Zhuo, Confirmed!]
Second: [EXPLAINER: Who is Pierre? How Close is Keda to a Fields Medal?]
Third: [Western Topology Community Stunned! The Sole Heir to the "God" of Mathematics is in Building No. 2!]
The lollipop stick dangling from Chu Ge’s mouth fell onto the keyboard with a CLACK.
He paid it no mind.
The hand holding the mouse began to tremble uncontrollably.
He clicked on the explainer thread.
The page loaded so fast it made him feel flustered.
At the very top of the post was a black-and-white photo of an old foreign man with eyes as sharp as knives. Below the photo were a few lines of bold text:
"Pierre, the last tyrant of the mathematics world, Fields Medal laureate."
"Known for his extremely rigorous logic, he publicly declared that half the people in the contemporary mathematics world are blind."
"He never took on a disciple his entire life—until this morning, when he published an open letter on the official Princeton webpage."
Chu Ge swallowed hard and frantically scrolled down with the mouse wheel.
In the middle of the post was a screenshot of an open letter written entirely in English, followed by a translation in red text.
One sentence smashed into Chu Ge’s mind like a sledgehammer:
"Chen Zhuo is the last, and only, disciple of my academic career."
In the replies, the entire student body was going insane.
"Found him! Science Department, Junior Class, third year! Chen Zhuo!"
"I live next door to him! He’s always eating in Cafeteria No. 3!"
"To the poster above, are you sure he’s eating and not conducting some kind of mathematical research?"
Chu Ge, still in his swivel chair, slowly, inch by inch, turned his head.
He looked at Dayong, who was measuring the thickness of the doorframe with a pair of calipers. Then, his eyes shifted to Chen Zhuo, who was standing by his bed, putting on his slippers.

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