My IQ Increases Year by Year

In the Capital City, early April still carried a lingering spring chill.

In the residential building of the Huake Institute of Physics, the heating had only just been shut off two days prior, leaving a distinct early spring chill in the air.

Zhou Zhenhua, draped in an old, navy blue woolen overcoat, sat at the desk in his study. The desk was piled high with various journals and printed research papers, and the ashtray overflowed with cigarette butts.

He was in the field of high-energy physics, having toiled in this circle for the better part of his life.

In the very center of his desk lay a thick, all-English photocopy.

It was the latest issue of *Physical Review Letters*. The domestic print edition wouldn’t arrive so quickly, so he’d had someone at a university library abroad photocopy it and send it over by fax.

The smell of ink was still a bit strong.

Zhou Zhenhua, with reading glasses perched on his nose and a red felt-tip pen in hand, had his gaze fixed on the sixth page of one of the papers.

The corresponding author of the paper was Darian from the Princeton Institute for Advanced Study.

Zhou Zhenhua had been staring at this page for nearly half an hour.

His brow was furrowed deeply, and the tip of his red pen had drawn heavy lines under several core algebraic matrix formulas.

As a peer in the field, he knew exactly where Darian’s team had been stuck for the better part of the last year.

The divergence problem at the Singularity boundary was like an impenetrable wall, turning back every physicist who tried to get past it using continuous calculus.

But now, someone had smashed a hole through that wall from the side.

"A discrete grid..."

Zhou Zhenhua muttered to himself.

He looked at the derivation process on the paper. There was no tedious renormalization, no forced cutoffs for approximations.

The entire derivation was clean and efficient, carrying the cold precision of a purely mathematical perspective.

It didn’t rely on physical intuition. Instead, it simply shattered the smooth spacetime background, reassembled it with algebraic-geometric nodes, and brute-forced a way around the dead end that made the denominator zero.

Zhou Zhenhua took off his reading glasses and pinched the bridge of his nose.

In all his years in the world of physics, he had rarely seen this kind of approach—one that completely abandoned physical intuition and relied purely on mathematical brute force to break through.

Elegant, but also deviously clever.

He put his glasses back on and flipped the photocopy to the last page.

Among the long list of references and acknowledgments, he began to search for the name of the collaborator who might have provided this mathematical tool.

Usually, in a paper of this caliber, the person who provided the core breakthrough idea would be credited in a very prominent position.

His gaze stopped at the acknowledgments section.

There was a very short line of English.

"Special thanks to C. Zhuo from the Hua Country Science and Technology University. His discrete algebraic model provided the critical breakthrough for this research."

Zhou Zhenhua froze for a moment.

Keda?

He put down the red pen, picked up the receiver of the landline on his desk, and dialed a number he knew by heart.

The phone rang five or six times before it was answered.

"Hello, Old Lin?"

Zhou Zhenhua heard the sound of pages turning on the other end.

"The latest issue of PRL, the paper Darian’s team published on the Singularity boundary. Have you seen it?"

On the other end of the line was Professor Lin from the Physics Department at Shuimu University.

"Just finished reading the faxed copy."

Professor Lin’s voice also carried a hint of unsettled excitement.

"That discrete algebra approach is brilliant."

"Did you see the acknowledgments section?"

Zhou Zhenhua got straight to the point.

"Saw it. From Keda. C. Zhuo."

Professor Lin paused for a moment.

"I was just running through the names in my head. Following the English convention, are there any old-timers at Keda with the surname ’Zhuo’? But if it follows our domestic spelling customs, the possibilities expand quite a bit. It could be someone with the surname Chen, Cheng, or Cao, whose given name includes ’Zhuo’."

Zhou Zhenhua reached for his pack of cigarettes, pulled one out, and stuck it between his lips.

"That’s exactly why I’m calling you."

Zhou Zhenhua flicked his lighter, lit the cigarette, and took a drag.

"We know pretty much all the experts in math and physics at Keda. There’s Old Zhao in algebraic topology, but he retired a few years ago and isn’t in good health. Old Zhou works on condensed matter, so that’s not the right field."

"Could it be some reclusive master Keda recently poached from abroad?"

Professor Lin guessed from the other end of the line.

"One of those old professors who got tenure abroad and then quietly returned to the country?"

"It’s possible."

Zhou Zhenhua exhaled a puff of blue smoke.

"That kind of mathematical intuition... you couldn’t develop that without sitting on a cold bench for twenty or thirty years. The fact that he could discard spacetime continuity so completely shows he doesn’t care about the traditional framework of physics at all. This person is a formidable character."

"Why don’t you call Keda and ask?" Professor Lin said.

"Keda can’t possibly keep a talent of this caliber hidden. The spring seminar is in a few days. If we could invite him to come and talk about this discrete model, it would be incredibly valuable."

"Alright, I’ll ask around at Keda."

Zhou Zhenhua hung up the phone.

He stubbed out his cigarette in the ashtray, flipped through the address book on his desk, and found the office number for Fang Shi, the associate dean of the Keda School of Physics.

The sound of dialing tones echoed in the study.

...

「Huizhou, Keda Physics Building.」

The window in the third-floor office was half-open, and a cold wind made the blinds sway gently.

Fang Shi sat behind his desk, holding a newly delivered epidemic prevention notice.

The landline on his desk rang.

Fang Shi put down the notice and picked up the receiver.

"Hello, who is this?"

"Dean Fang, it’s Zhou Zhenhua."

The voice on the other end of the line was loud and resonant.

Fang Shi’s movements paused for half a second. He was all too familiar with that voice and immediately guessed the purpose of the call.

’The inevitable has arrived.’

’That paper from Princeton has been published. Everyone in the circle must have seen it by now.’

"Elder Zhou."

Fang Shi’s tone was polite, carrying its usual calm composure.

"The New Year just passed not long ago. What gives me the honor of a call from you? It must still be cold over there in the Capital City, right?"

"It is. I’m still in my overcoat."

Zhou Zhenhua didn’t beat around the bush.

"Old Fang, I won’t waste time with pleasantries. I read that paper Darian published in PRL. That discrete model inside, was that developed by someone from your Keda?"

Fang Shi picked up the teacup beside him, took a sip of water, and cleared his throat.

"You’re quick with the news, Elder Zhou." Fang Shi didn’t deny it. "We just saw the paper here in our school as well."

"This C. Zhuo... just who is this mysterious genius from your school?"

Zhou Zhenhua’s voice was filled with unconcealed curiosity.

"Old Lin from Shuimu and I have been wracking our brains, but we can’t place the name. Is he a big shot you just poached from some research institute abroad? Or is it some old professor from the School of Mathematics crossing into a new field?"

Fang Shi set down his teacup.

He quickly ran through the prepared speech in his mind.

"Elder Zhou, it’s probably best if you don’t inquire too much about this."

Fang Shi’s tone carried a perfectly measured sense of helplessness and secrecy.

"The person is indeed from Keda, but he just came up with this model while fiddling around."

"Fiddling around?"

Zhou Zhenhua’s voice rose on the other end of the line.

"Old Fang, stop playing dumb with me. Darian was stuck for the better part of a year, and this guy solves it while ’fiddling around’? To say that a person with this level of algebraic logic was just ’fiddling around’—isn’t that just an insult to the minds of us old folks?"

Fang Shi smiled silently.

"Elder Zhou, I’m not joking with you."

Fang Shi’s tone became a little more serious.

"This scholar’s situation is quite special. He is currently in a very important foundational stage, and his personal studies... ah, his research workload is extremely heavy. He doesn’t wish to be disturbed by the outside world."

The other end of the line went quiet for a few seconds.

Zhou Zhenhua seemed to be processing the information in Fang Shi’s words.

Foundational stage.

Doesn’t wish to be disturbed.

Special situation.

To the ears of an old-school scholar like Zhou Zhenhua, these words automatically combined to form an image of someone profoundly mysterious and important.

A top scientist leading a major, classified national project, someone indifferent to fame and fortune, who had possibly even signed a non-disclosure agreement.

"I understand."

Zhou Zhenhua’s tone also became solemn.

"He’s working on a major project, right? In that case, he certainly can’t make public appearances."

Fang Shi didn’t respond, letting him fill in the blanks himself.

"But Old Fang, with this paper published, quite a few people in the domestic circle will have their eyes on Keda."

Zhou Zhenhua reminded him.

"Just this morning, I’ve already received several calls asking about it. You can keep it under wraps for a while, but not forever."

"You don’t need to worry about that, Elder Zhou."

Fang Shi’s reply was firm.

"You know the rules at Keda. As long as he himself is unwilling, our university will respect his personal wishes and will absolutely not arrange any external exchanges or interviews."

"Fine. Keda is famous for being protective of its own."

Zhou Zhenhua sighed.

"When his ’foundational stage’ is over, Old Fang, you must arrange for us to meet. I have many questions about that Discrete Matrix that I want to ask him in person."

"Of course, of course."

After hanging up, Fang Shi let out a long breath.

He leaned back in his chair and stared at the ceiling.

’The first wave has been deflected.’

’But this is just the beginning. As long as C. Zhuo remains unseen, the outside speculation will only grow more and more outrageous.’

Some said he was a hermit in his seventies.

Some said he was an architect who had secretly returned from Bell Laboratories.

Someone even went to the Keda logistics department to ask if there was an old man named Cheng Zhuo or Cao Zhuo who liked to solve math problems on campus in his spare time.

Fang Shi shook his head.

There was a knock on the office door.

Fang Yuanming pushed the door open and walked in. He was holding a stack of forms and wearing a thick, white cotton mask.

"Dean."

Fang Yuanming placed the forms on Fang Shi’s desk and pulled his mask down to his chin.

"The temperature logs from the dormitories have been delivered. The notice says several more provinces were added to the list today, so the school’s lockdown measures will have to be tightened. The main gate is completely locked; you need a pass from the logistics department to get in or out."

Fang Shi sat up straight and flipped through the stack of forms.

"These are special times. We can’t afford any mistakes." Fang Shi put the forms down. "Especially in the student dorms. The daily disinfection and temperature checks must be strictly implemented."

"It’s all being done as required."

Fang Yuanming nodded.

Fang Shi looked at Fang Yuanming and suddenly asked a question.

"How are things in dorm room 215?"

Fang Yuanming was taken aback for a second, then immediately understood who Fang Shi was asking about.

"He’s doing fine." Fang Yuanming smiled. "Whose call did you just take?"

"Mm, someone fishing for information."

Fang Shi rubbed his temples.

"The outside world is already turning this C. Zhuo into a legendary sweeping monk. Elder Zhou even made an appointment with me to ask for a consultation in person once his ’foundational construction’ is complete."

Fang Yuanming laughed out loud.

"His ’foundational construction’ will probably take another two or three years before he can even graduate with a bachelor’s degree."

Fang Yuanming pulled his mask back up.

"I’m going to take a walk around the dorm area. I’ll check in on our ’sweeping monk’ while I’m at it."