My IQ Increases Year by Year

Zhou Kai took a deep breath and spoke in a serious tone.

"I’m a high school freshman now. The school has approved me to jump ahead and participate in this year’s National Physics Olympiad."

​"Congratulations."

​"My goal is to place first in the nation, get into the national training team, and secure direct admission to Qingbei."

​Zhou Kai’s tone conveyed a sense of cool-headed calculation.

​"If I fall a little short and don’t get direct admission, it’s fine. I’ve looked up the Ministry of Education’s policies. This year, the country started piloting independent recruitment. As long as I have a provincial first-prize win under my belt, I’m qualified to knock on Qingbei’s door."

He had clearly calculated every step, rule, and contingency.

"Alright." Chen Zhuo smiled. "Don’t just focus on studying policies and solving problems. Take care of yourself."

"You too."

With that, Zhou Kai promptly hung up.

Chen Zhuo put down the receiver and looked at the last number on the calendar page.

He dialed the number.

The call was answered on the first ring.

But no one spoke.

The line was silent; he couldn’t even hear the expected background noise of firecrackers or a TV.

"Lin Yi?"

Chen Zhuo called out tentatively.

Three or four seconds passed.

"Mm."

A single syllable, carrying a girl’s characteristic cool, crisp tone.

"Are you at home?" Chen Zhuo asked.

"Rooftop."

Lin Yi’s voice came through the phone line, flat and even.

"It’s too noisy inside."

"Is winter in Huizhou cold?"

Lin Yi asked suddenly.

"Colder than it is here."

Chen Zhuo glanced at the frost patterns on the windowpane.

"Is the prodigy class fun?"

"It’s alright." Chen Zhuo thought for a moment. "But I don’t think it’s as interesting as when we were at the physics training camp."

The line went silent again.

He could faintly hear the sound of wind whistling over the receiver.

"Professor Wang called me a few days ago," Lin Yi said.

"What did he say?"

"He asked if I was interested in enrolling early in the physics department at Nanda University."

"And what did you say?"

"I said I’m not interested." Lin Yi’s voice was calm. "The high school curriculum is idiotic, but I don’t want to go to Nanda."

Chen Zhuo didn’t ask where she wanted to go instead; for someone like Lin Yi, such a question was redundant.

"Don’t stay out on the rooftop too long. You’ll catch a cold," Chen Zhuo said.

"Got it."

Before hanging up, Lin Yi uncharacteristically added something.

"Chen Zhuo, Happy New Year."

"Happy New Year."

A dial tone hummed from the receiver.

​Chen Zhuo placed the receiver back on its cradle.

Four phone calls, one letter—five completely different life paths.

​The expensive international school, the boisterous Olympiad training, the cold calculations of rules and regulations, the biting wind on the rooftop, and the sheet of lined paper filled with the Lagrangian equation.

​These voices were like invisible threads, pulling him back from the ethereal boundaries of manifolds and the Princeton Singularity.

He felt grounded.

"Chen Zhuo! Come help carry out the dishes!"

Liu Xiuying shouted from the kitchen.

Chen Zhuo stood up and walked toward the kitchen.

"Coming."

The dining table was laden with food.

​In the center of it all was a large braised carp, a dish symbolizing abundance year after year. Beside it lay a glistening roast chicken, a plate of freshly prepared, steaming hot braised pork ribs, and a massive bowl of fried meatballs and lotus root pockets, crispy on the outside and tender on the inside.

​Tucked into the remaining spaces were several cold appetizers to go with the drinks: pig ears in chili oil, a cold seaweed salad, thinly sliced marinated beef, and a plate of extra-crispy fried peanuts.

Chen Jianguo popped the cap off a beer bottle with an opener and poured two glasses.

He glanced at Chen Zhuo standing beside him.

"It’s the New Year, and you’re a year older. Want a sip?"

Liu Xiuying came out of the kitchen carrying a large bowl of dumplings and glared at Chen Jianguo.

"He’s just a kid! Why are you letting him drink? What if it addles his brain? Are you going to be the one to pay for it?"

"What’s wrong with eleven? When I was eleven, I was already following my dad to work in the fields."

Even as Chen Jianguo said this, he still slid the beer glass back toward himself.

Chen Zhuo pulled out a chair and sat down.

"I’ll just have some Jianlibao."

The TV was on, broadcasting the Spring Festival Gala. A skit with Uncle Benshan and Gao Xiumin had just started. Chen Jianguo ate his pork ribs and chuckled at the TV.

The sound of firecrackers outside grew more intense, each volley overlapping the last.

The windowpanes rattled, BUZZING from the force.

Chen Zhuo picked up a piece of pork rib and put it in his bowl. The meat was stewed until it was fall-off-the-bone tender.

After dinner, Liu Xiuying was in the kitchen washing dishes while Chen Jianguo leaned back on the sofa, cracking melon seeds.

Chen Zhuo sat at the dining table, watching the Gala on the TV screen, and took a sip of Jianlibao from the can.

The bubbles fizzed in his throat—a cool, satisfying sting.

Nothing earth-shattering happened on this New Year’s Eve.

No overseas calls, no dean banging on the door.

In this remote southern town, Chen Zhuo was just an ordinary kid who had just helped a classmate solve a physics problem, wished a few friends a happy new year, and then sat at home eating a meal of braised pork ribs.

As for the shocks and sleepless nights from across the Pacific, they were all locked safely outside the doors of his quiet home.

「Tomorrow was the first day of the Lunar New Year.」

He still had to mail that letter with the eighty-cent stamp.