Chapter 334: Two-fifths

Chapter 334 -183: Two-fifths

The classic cough notification sound came from the speakers.

The WhatsApp icon in the bottom right corner of the screen stopped shaking and settled firmly in the taskbar.

The interface that popped up was simple, without all the flashy pop-ups and ads of later versions. It had a blue and white border, with a certain rough-around-the-edges quality unique to the early 2000s.

Chen Zhuo held the mouse and clicked on the group chat that had been flashing wildly in the bottom right corner.

The group’s name was the Jinling Roasted Duck Squad.

Over a hundred messages had already piled up. Chen Zhuo leaned back in his chair, slowly scrolling with the mouse wheel, reading through his friends’ idle chatter line by line.

[Wind-Chasing Boy]: Help.

[Wind-Chasing Boy]: Anyone there? Pop in and say something, I’m suffocating over here.

[Wind-Chasing Boy]: For the first three days of break, I was the darling of the family. My mom practically wanted to spoon-feed me, and my dad didn’t even dare to breathe too loudly while I was watching TV. Today is the fourth day. Bros, it’s only the fourth day! And now, even my breathing is wrong.

[Wind-Chasing Boy]: My mom came in to mop just now and said I was too slow lifting my feet, so she jabbed me with the mop handle! A jab! A really hard one!

[Wind-Chasing Boy]: It’s like I went to university for nothing. Even if I’d gotten into God’s own university, I’d still have zero status at home. I wanted to eat a popsicle just now, and my mom said all I do all day is eat, like some good-for-nothing glutton.

The group chat went silent for about two minutes.

Then, a reply from Zhou Kai popped up.

His ID was simple, just the initials of his name: ZK. His profile picture was a default landscape photo, making him seem as prim and proper as a party official.

[ZK]: You should be grateful.

[ZK]: I’d rather be jabbed with a mop than suffer what I’m going through right now.

[Wind-Chasing Boy]: What’s up, Old Zhou? Aren’t you the pride of your city? I remember they even hung up a banner for you when you left. How can the city’s pride be suffering at home?

[ZK]: Pride my ass. Yesterday, my aunt dumped her elementary-school-aged son at my house and told me, the “star student,” to be in charge of his math for the summer.

[ZK]: Do you guys know what question he just asked me?

[Wind-Chasing Boy]: The Goldbach conjecture?

[ZK]: He asked me why one-half plus one-third doesn’t equal two-fifths.

[Wind-Chasing Boy]: …

[ZK]: I patiently started by explaining the principle of finding a common denominator. I explained what a denominator is, what a numerator is, all the way to the least common multiple. I even drew three pizzas on a piece of scratch paper to demonstrate! I talked for a full half-hour until my throat was parched!

[ZK]: And what was the result? He just looked at me with these perfectly clear eyes and asked me why I had to make it so complicated. He said, you just add the top numbers to get two, and add the bottom numbers to get five, and there’s your answer. Why did I have to cut the pizza into so many small pieces? He doesn’t like his pizza cut up.

[ZK]: I just went to the bathroom and splashed cold water on my face. I looked at myself in the mirror. I’m afraid if I go back out there, I won’t be able to stop myself from strangling him.

The chat fell silent for a while, as if everyone was observing a moment of silence for Zhou Kai through their screens.

Then, a new message popped up.

[Guiqu Laixi]: The cafeteria at Keda has no lines right now. And the auntie serving the food isn’t stingy with her portions at all.

[Wind-Chasing Boy]: Damn! He Gui, you didn’t go home?

[Guiqu Laixi]: Nope. I’m staying at school to help the department organize some lab data and do some reading. It just so happens I’m the only one in the dorm, so it’s really quiet. The cicadas outside sound quite nice.

[Wind-Chasing Boy]: You’re a freak, staying at school during summer break. But seriously, hearing you say that makes me kind of want to go back to school too. At least in the dorm, no one cares what time I wake up, no one jabs me with a mop, and I can eat instant noodles whenever I want.

[ZK]: He Gui, does your physics lab need any help? Maybe I could come crash at Shuimu for a couple of days. I really can’t teach elementary schoolers. I’d rather solve partial differential equations, I’d rather calculate divergent infinite series, I just don’t want to see that “two-fifths” face ever again.

[Guiqu Laixi]: We need a janitor.

[Wind-Chasing Boy]: HAHAHAHAHAHA! Go for it, Old Zhou! Use that same rigor you apply to calculating least common multiples to sweep the floors! They’ll be spotless!

Chen Zhuo watched the text scrolling endlessly on the screen, listening to the occasional notification sounds from the internet cafe’s speakers. A faint smile touched the corners of his eyes.

He picked up the half-finished carton of pure milk from the corner of the desk, took a sip through the straw, then rested his hand on the keyboard and typed a single word.

[C]: Brutal.

The moment the message was sent, the chat window seemed to freeze for an instant before immediately coming back to life.

[Wind-Chasing Boy]: Professor Chen appears!

[ZK]: Chen Zhuo, you, the busy man himself, are actually online?

[Guiqu Laixi]: Brother Zhuo.

[Wind-Chasing Boy]: Brother Zhuo, what world-class problem are you tackling this summer? The Goldbach conjecture? The Riemann hypothesis? Or are you writing a paper to submit to some foreign journal?

Chen Zhuo leaned back in his chair, his fingers tapping lightly on the keyboard.

[C]: Not doing research.

[C]: At my childhood friend’s place.

[ZK]: Then your friend must have it rough. The pressure of being around you must be immense. Does he even dare to breathe too loudly?

[C]: No, he’s doing physics problems.

[ZK]: Middle school physics?

[C]: Mmm.

[ZK]: …

[ZK]: Chen Zhuo, don’t you dare tell me you’re tutoring someone too.

[C]: Not really tutoring. I gave him two colored pens.

Zhou Kai, on the other end of the screen, was clearly stunned. His message took several seconds to appear.

[ZK]: Colored pens? For drawing diagrams?

[C]: For coloring in red and blue.

Chen Zhuo typed at a steady pace, matching the rhythm of his usual speech.

[C]: Red line connects to the positive terminal, blue line connects to the negative. Stop when you hit a lightbulb. Same colors short circuit, different colors explode.

The group chat fell into a strange silence.

This silence lasted longer than before, for about half a minute.

[ZK]: That’s it?

[C]: That’s it.

[ZK]: What about the principles? What about Kirchhoff’s laws? The concept of potential drop? You’re not going to explain to him why the current flows that way? You’re not going to explain the microscopic manifestation of Ohm’s law in a parallel circuit? You’re not going to teach him the nodal voltage method?

Zhou Kai’s typing speed clearly accelerated. A series of questions shot out like cannonballs. You could almost feel the force with which he was hitting the enter key.

[ZK]: Chen Zhuo, you’re insulting physics.

[ZK]: Physics is a rigorous science, an edifice built on axioms and logical deduction! Teaching like this isn’t just destroying physics, it’s destroying that kid. You’re teaching a middle schooler like he’s a kindergartener playing a coloring game!

Chen Zhuo looked at Zhou Kai’s grief-stricken tone on the screen and could almost picture him sitting at his desk, pushing up his black-framed glasses, his brow furrowed in a serious expression.

He chuckled, picked up a slice of chilled watermelon with his left hand and took a bite, then typed slowly with his right.

[C]: As long as it works.

[C]: He was stuck on one problem for half an hour, nearly tearing his hair out. With the colored pens, he finished it in one minute. All correct.

[ZK]: But he’s just memorized the rules! He doesn’t understand the essence of physics at all! He doesn’t know why the current flows, he only knows that red can’t touch blue! That’s just rote memorization!

[C]: He doesn’t need to understand the essence.

Chen Zhuo typed out this sentence.

[C]: He just needs to get the points on next year’s high school entrance exam and get into City No.1 Middle School.

[C]: Besides, right now he thinks he’s a genius. His confidence is through the roof.

After he sent that message, the group chat went silent again.

After a moment, Wang Huashao sent a default shivering WhatsApp emoji—the little yellow guy hugging his shoulders and trembling.

[Wind-Chasing Boy]: As expected of Brother Zhuo. Talk about a psychological takedown.

[Wind-Chasing Boy]: Zhou Kai, you should learn from him. Stop going on about common denominators and least common multiples all day. Aren’t you exhausted? Just tell your cousin it’s magic. One-half plus one-third equals five-sixths is a magical law of the universe. He just needs to memorize it.

[ZK]: sulking.jpg

Just then, an account that had been lurking for ages, its icon always grayed out, suddenly lit up and chimed in.

The profile picture was a default little white rabbit, looking completely harmless.

[.]: It’s useful.

Lin Yi.

[Wind-Chasing Boy]: Holy crap! Big Sis, you’re alive! Didn’t you say you were going into seclusion for the summer?

[.]: Just passing by. Zhou Kai, too stupid.

[ZK]: Lin Yi, what do you mean? How am I stupid? Am I wrong for trying to explain the reasoning?

[.]: Don’t use a cleaver to kill a chicken.

[.]: For a stupid person, use a stupid method.

[ZK]: …My cousin isn’t stupid. He just hasn’t developed a complete system of mathematical logic yet.

[.]: Oh.

Chen Zhuo looked at that single, lonely “Oh” on the screen and couldn’t help but chuckle.

Lin Yi’s talent for killing a conversation, for making you feel like you’re punching cotton, really hadn’t changed one bit. Even through the screen, he could feel Zhou Kai’s current frustration and helplessness.

“Brother Zhuo!”

An excited cheer suddenly came from the direction of the coffee table behind him, breaking the quiet hum of the air conditioner.

Chen Zhuo turned his head.

Zhang Qiang was holding up a copy of “Grade 9 Physics: Summer Bridging and Enhancement.” He shot up from his small, rather uncomfortable-looking stool, his face flushed red.

“I finished coloring them! The last five major problems, I solved them all!”

Zhang Qiang was so excited he was practically dancing. He ran over to Chen Zhuo’s side in a few steps and slapped the workbook, its pages already worn and fuzzy, onto the computer desk.

“Look, look! They’re all correct! I just checked them one by one against the answer key in the back, not a single one is wrong! I even got the final, most difficult keystone problem with the sliding rheostat right!”

Chen Zhuo glanced down.

In the workbook, the originally clean black-and-white circuit diagrams, which were as dizzying as labyrinths, were now completely filled in with red and blue markers.

Although Zhang Qiang’s coloring was a bit crooked, the edges of the red and blue lines were fuzzy from his haste, and in some places the ink had even bled through the paper, the boundary between red and blue was exceptionally clear, like the Chu River and Han border.

Which path was live, which path was shorted, and where the voltmeter was connected—it was all clear at a glance.

Chen Zhuo didn’t bother checking the specific answers.

“Not bad.”

He nodded, his voice gentle.

“Not even a god could do better. With coloring skills like these, you’d definitely get a gold star in kindergarten.”

“Of course!”

Zhang Qiang grinned foolishly, completely missing the teasing in Chen Zhuo’s words.

He reached for a large slice of watermelon from the nearby fruit bowl and, forgetting his manners, took a huge bite. Watermelon juice dripped onto his T-shirt, which had a picture of Michael Jordan on it.

“These problems aren’t actually that hard, huh?”

Zhang Qiang mumbled as he chewed his watermelon, his tone full of the smug satisfaction of someone who has finally turned the tables.

“Back when Old Zhou was on the podium, he’d be spitting everywhere, going on for a whole class about current division, voltage division, series voltage, parallel current… it gave me a headache. It was like listening to gibberish. Your trick is way better, Brother Zhuo. Just draw some red and blue, and no matter how they try to twist the circuit, it can’t fool me!”

Seeing him looking so smug he might as well have grown a tail to wag, Chen Zhuo said nothing, simply pushing the tissue box toward him.

Zhang Qiang pulled out two tissues and wiped his mouth haphazardly.

“But Brother Zhuo, there’s still one thing I don’t get.”

He frowned, staring at the battery symbol in the workbook.

“Go on.”

“So… what exactly *is* electricity?”