Chapter 215 - 135: The Two Ends of the Scale

Chapter 215: Chapter 135: The Two Ends of the Scale

In Huizhou, the August wind felt as if it had been scorched into hiding for a nap.

The leaves on the trees were perfectly still. Glaring sunlight beat down on the asphalt, and the air shimmered with faintly distorted waves of heat.

The main doors to the cafeteria were wide open, and Chen Zhuo pushed his way inside.

Emptied out for summer break, the cafeteria felt vast and unfamiliar.

The service windows, usually so packed you could barely move, were now down to just two.

Only a handful of students—either studying for grad school entrance exams or staying on campus for lab work—were scattered in the corners.

Overhead, several rows of large ceiling fans spun lazily. In the vast hall, the sound of their blades slicing through the air echoed slightly.

Chen Zhuo walked up to the window and got a serving of cabbage and tofu. He asked for a ladle of gravy from the red-braised pork to be poured over his rice, then carried his tray to a seat by the window.

In the upper corner of the room, a Changhong color television, secured to the wall in a welded iron cage, was on.

Normally, when the cafeteria was crowded, the TV was completely inaudible, drowned out by the din of clattering trays and conversation.

But today, the cafeteria was so quiet you could hear a chopstick drop. The clear, resonant voice of the midday news anchor carried distinctly throughout the hall.

Chen Zhuo stirred the gravy into his rice. Just as he lifted the first spoonful to his mouth, his hand froze.

"In the recently concluded 34th International Physics Olympiad, our nation’s team faced down fierce competition to win three gold and two silver medals, clinching first place in the overall team rankings..."

The broadcast cut to a new scene.

The view switched from the news studio to the live awards ceremony in Spain.

The image was a little grainy, with the faint flicker typical of broadcasts from that time, but Chen Zhuo instantly recognized the teenagers in the center of the screen, dressed in the red uniforms of the national team.

The venue was filled with flowers, applause, and the flicker of camera flashes.

Chen Zhuo swallowed the rice in his mouth, his gaze fixed on the screen.

The camera panned across.

Wang Huashao was standing on the far end, a gleaming gold medal hanging from his neck. His face was flushed with excitement as he beamed foolishly at the camera, clutching a bouquet of flowers in his hand.

The camera panned.

Zhou Kai stood slightly closer to the center, his posture ramrod straight. He also had a gold medal around his neck and held a gold-embossed certificate in his right hand.

At that moment, a line of text appeared in the news ticker at the bottom of the screen:

Chinese competitor Zhou Kai is awarded the Best Experiment Prize.

His expression was far more composed than Wang Huashao’s. With Chen Zhuo and Lin Yi absent from the team this time, the sharp, unconcealed pride in his eyes seemed to cut right through the screen.

Finally, the camera zoomed in for a close-up on the person standing in the very middle of the group.

He Gui.

He had a slightly shy smile, and the red team uniform looked a bit too big for him.

But at that moment, anyone looking at the screen couldn’t possibly overlook him.

A gold medal hung from his neck, and he held a heavy trophy in each hand.

The anchor’s voice, thick with unrestrained pride, echoed through the empty cafeteria.

"Our nation’s competitor, He Gui, with an undisputed lead, has won both the award for Best Theoretical Score and first place overall in this year’s Olympiad..."

Nearby, two college students eating in the cafeteria glanced up at the television.

"Wow, these high school kids are seriously impressive."

One of them pushed up his glasses and remarked casually.

"Yeah, the top prospects these days are absolute beasts. Come on, let’s eat. We’ve got to go wash test tubes in the lab this afternoon."

The other agreed before lowering his head to continue tackling the shredded potatoes on his plate.

Chen Zhuo sat in a dimly lit corner, leaning back in his chair and watching the group photo frozen on the screen.

He just watched the screen, a faint smile in his eyes. Then he lowered his head and ate the last bite of gravy-soaked rice from his plate.

"Nicely done."

He murmured, so quietly only he could hear.

When he finished eating, Chen Zhuo took his empty tray to the disposal station and tossed it into a large plastic bin with a sharp CLATTER.

Stepping out of the cafeteria, he was hit by an overwhelming wave of heat.

His routine for the past while had been ironclad: after lunch, he would walk through the grove of trees to the old library’s third-floor reading room and get the afternoon’s books from Su Wei.

But today, he didn’t head for the library.

He turned a corner and started walking leisurely toward the men’s dormitory, his feet treading on the dappled shadows cast by the trees.

’He knew those guys too well.’

’After the adrenaline spike on the podium, in this ecstatic moment of being on top of the world, those kids would be bursting to talk to someone about it.’

’Their parents? They wouldn’t understand what an electromagnetic fluid boundary is.’

’Their coach? Not enough common ground.’

’In the end, they’d most likely end up calling him.’

Chen Zhuo walked into the dormitory building.

The old dorm attendant was dozing in a bamboo recliner, snoring softly. The high-pitched strains of a Beijing opera drifted from a nearby radio.

Chen Zhuo walked quietly up the stairs to the second floor.

The hallway was dim, and the doors to the dorm rooms on either side were locked tight. He stopped at Room 215, took out his key, and let himself in.

The room was stuffy and a little hot from being closed up all morning.

Chen Zhuo didn’t turn on the ceiling fan, merely pushing the window open a crack. He didn’t touch the specialized books on spectral graph theory on his desk, nor did he turn on his computer.

He picked up a water pitcher, poured himself a glass of water, and sat down in his chair.