Chapter 167 Teacher

On the sixth day of the Lunar New Year, Zeyang was experiencing the worst of the late spring cold snap.

The festive atmosphere of the Lunar New Year hadn't completely dissipated, but there were far fewer people on the streets. The wind felt like barbs on their faces, dry and cold. Chen Zhuo carried two red cardboard boxes as he walked along the path in the staff and family compound of the No. 1 Middle School in the city.

One box contained old-fashioned steamed rice cakes that Liu Xiuying had queued for over half an hour that morning, and the other box contained two jars of Xinyang Maojian tea that looked quite good. Walking through the staff quarters of the No. 1 Middle School, littered with coal ash and fallen leaves, retired teachers wrapped in thick cotton-padded coats would occasionally stop and squint at him. Once they recognized him, a warm greeting was inevitable.

"Oh, isn't this Xiao Zhuo? You're back from winter break?"

"You've grown taller! How's it going in the USTC Junior Class? My grandson looks up to you every day."

Chen Zhuo would always stop, stand in the wind, and respond with a gentle smile.

When he encountered older people, he would bend down slightly and patiently answer their questions about whether the university cafeteria food was good or not, and whether it was cold in winter. The conversation only ended when they reached Unit 3 of Building 3.

Climbing the somewhat old stairs, Chen Zhuo arrived at the third floor, stopped in front of the door on the left, and knocked.

A few seconds later, the sound of slippers came from inside the door.

"Coming, coming! Who is it during the New Year...?"

The door clicked open.

A wave of heat, carrying the scent of orange peels baked by the radiator, instantly hit me, pushing back the dry, cold air in the hallway.

Old Zhao was wearing a gray wool sweater, the collar of which revealed the faded shirt collar underneath, and his hair was still neatly combed.

Upon seeing who was standing outside the door, Old Zhao was first taken aback, then the fine lines at the corners of his eyes instantly smoothed out, and the surprise in his eyes was impossible to hide. "Oh, Chen Zhuo! Come in, come in!"

As Old Zhao spoke, he hurriedly took the cardboard box from Chen Zhuo's hand, hooked a pair of brand-new cotton slippers from the bottom of the shoe rack, and kicked them to Chen Zhuo's feet. "It's the sixth day of the Lunar New Year. Why didn't you sleep in at home? Why did you come all the way here in this strong wind today? Are you cold? I see you're only wearing a sweater under your jacket. You're too thin. You've grown a little taller, but you're still thin. At the University of Science and Technology, don't just sit in the library all day. Do you like the food in the cafeteria? Is it too sweet? Have you been drinking milk every day?" Old Zhao placed the pastries and tea on the low cabinet by the door and began his habitual nagging, making sure to close the door tightly to prevent any cold draft from getting in. "My relatives have all left a couple of days ago. My mom just bought some freshly baked steamed rice cakes, so I brought them over to wish you a belated Happy New Year while they're still hot..." Chen Zhuo said, rubbing his hands together with a smile as he put on the slippers.

Before he could finish speaking, a clear, cold snort suddenly came from the sofa in the living room.

"Alright, Lao Zhao, you should take a break. This kid's old enough to catch a cold!"

A familiar, husky voice, carrying a hint of nonchalance and a touch of arrogance.

Chen Zhuo changed his shoes and looked up into the living room.

Old Zhou was curled up on Old Zhao's sofa.

He was still wearing that same dark brown jacket that he never wore before, and on his feet were a pair of old cotton slippers, which he casually draped over the edge of the coffee table.

On the coffee table in front of him sat an unfinished chess game, a teacup beside him. His eyes were drooping, his stubble was clearly unshaven from the morning, and even his hair looked like it had been carelessly ruffled. Chen Zhuo was slightly taken aback at first, then a hint of surprise flashed in his eyes.

Turning around, she picked up the box of Xinyang Maojian tea that she had originally intended to deliver separately to Old Zhou's family from the low cabinet, and took two steps forward with a smile. "What a coincidence, Teacher Zhou, you're here too?"

Chen Zhuo gently placed the tea leaves on the tea table in front of Lao Zhou.

"This box of Xinyang Maojian tea was originally prepared for you. Since you two are both here today, I'll offer my New Year's greetings together. Happy New Year, Teacher Zhou." Old Zhou raised his eyelids slightly, glanced at the tea leaves on the table, and then at Chen Zhuo.

He didn't say thank you, nor did he show much enthusiasm. He simply picked up his teacup and blew away the tea leaves floating on top.

"Don't give me that platitude."

Old Zhou took a sip of water and put the jar down.

"Old Zhao always makes a fuss. He's at USTC now, surrounded by academicians and professors. Do you think he'd be short of food? Save your jargon for middle schoolers." Old Zhao was wiping his hands with a tissue when he heard this. He wasn't angry at all. He walked over, patted Chen Zhuo on the shoulder, and pointed at Old Zhou.

"Ignore him. He lost three games to me in chess today and is just looking for trouble. Come on, sit down and let's talk."

Chen Zhuo pulled over a small stool and sat down on the side of the coffee table.

Old Zhao turned around to get a clean glass, preparing to make tea for Chen Zhuo.

Only Chen Zhuo and Lao Zhou remained in the living room, facing each other.

Old Zhou leaned back on the sofa, took a plastic lighter out of his jacket pocket, and twirled it idly in his hand without lighting a cigarette. His gaze didn't look at Chen Zhuo's face, but instead swept Chen Zhuo's shoulders and arms up and down.

"He's a little taller."

Old Zhou spoke in a casual tone.

"You're hanging out with those big shots over there every day, you must have learned a lot of theory... But let me ask you something."

Old Zhou stopped twirling the lighter and stared into Chen Zhuo's eyes.

"You haven't become one of those bookworms who just sit at their desks calculating formulas, have you?"

Chen Zhuo placed his hands on his knees and listened quietly.

"Back in that shabby lab at No. 1 High School, with that J2459 oscilloscope, can you still get a perfect circle by feel without any equipment? You haven't lost your skills, have you?" Old Zhao walked over with two freshly brewed cups of green tea, placing one in front of Chen Zhuo. Hearing Old Zhou's words, he couldn't help but interject. "Old Zhou, what are you talking about? USTC has all sorts of equipment; who would even care about your beat-up oscilloscope with its worn-out knobs?" "You don't know anything!"

Old Zhou glared at Old Zhao and gave him a disapproving look.

"Physics is a discipline that requires hands-on experience! If you lose your intuition, no matter how beautifully you derive formulas in your mind, it's just a castle in the air, an empty shell!" After saying that, Old Zhou looked at Chen Zhuo again, raised his chin slightly, and waited for his answer.

Chen Zhuo understands Lao Zhou too well.

He didn't find the question, which sounded like an assessment, offensive at all; instead, he felt a warm, friendly sensation on the tip of his nose. Chen Zhuo casually and slowly put the few captured pieces scattered on the chessboard back into the wooden box.

"You haven't lost your skills, Teacher Zhou."

Chen Zhuo spoke in a gentle tone, as if he were reporting a very ordinary family matter.

"I've been spending the last two months in the lab at USTC, going around the high-speed wind tunnel every day, helping a senior student there adjust the background noise resonance of the vacuum equipment." The lighter stopped in Lao Zhou's hand.

Chen Zhuo threw the last cannon into the wooden box, raised his head and said with a smile.

"The wind tunnel equipment is good, and the system is indeed complex. They initially got used to using software to run models and calculate error compensation, but the results always deviated from reality." Old Zhou didn't speak, but his body leaned forward noticeably.

"I later took over this part."

Chen Zhuo picked up the teacup, feeling the heat emanating from the glass.

"I'm still using the same clumsy method you taught me back then."

"A clumsy approach?"

Old Zhao sat down next to him and asked a question out of curiosity.

"Um."

Chen Zhuo nodded.

"I didn't use their complicated partial differential equations. I just took a multimeter, disconnected the main control, and checked the underlying hardware circuitry bit by bit. I relied on listening to the sound, looking at the tiny vibrations of the hands, and feeling the resonance point."

Chen Zhuo paused, looking into Lao Zhou's eyes.

"In the end, we discovered that there was an extremely small impedance mismatch in the analog-to-digital converter. The software's sampling rate smoothed out this background noise, so it could never be calculated on the computer. Only by going back to the most basic analog circuits could we find it."

The living room was quiet for a few seconds.

A glint of light flashed in Old Zhou's eyes, which always seemed sleepy.

The unfulfilled scientific research dream deep within him seemed to be rekindled by this twelve-year-old boy in that instant. But he forced a smile down his face, cleared his throat, and snorted.

"You haven't forgotten your roots, have you?"

Old Zhou picked up his teacup and gulped down a large mouthful of water.

"USTC's wind tunnel... it's definitely much better than the junk at our school."

Old Zhou put the jar down, his tone carrying an undisguised longing.

"Touch those good pieces of equipment more often. The ultimate goal of physics is always on the lab floor, not on the blackboard."

At this point, Old Zhou glanced at Old Zhao, who was peeling peanuts next to him, and made a sarcastic remark without any mercy.

"You have to work hard and down-to-earth. Don't be like your teacher Zhao, who spends all day drawing those few broken auxiliary lines on paper. He's been doing that for twenty years, and I haven't seen him produce any real output." Old Zhao was putting a peanut into his mouth when he heard this and immediately became unhappy.

"Hey, what's wrong with me drawing auxiliary lines?"

Old Zhao threw the peanut shells into the trash can.

"Without my auxiliary lines, without the underlying logic of pure mathematics, could you calculate a parabola? Could you build a physical model? You couldn't even solve an equation!" "I rely on working backward from experimental data!"

"That's just blind luck, a gamble based on past experience!"

Two key teachers from the city's No. 1 High School, whose combined age was nearly one hundred, began their familiar daily bickering right in front of Chen Zhuo, arguing about which subject, math or physics, was the more important. Chen Zhuo sat on a small stool, holding a teacup, sipping his tea while watching them argue with a smile.

The warmth from the radiator circulated throughout the room, and wisps of steam rose from the teacups, blurring the three's vision. The wind outside seemed to have subsided somewhat, with only the occasional distant firecracker. After arguing for about five or six minutes, Old Zhao felt thirsty, picked up his cup, took a sip of water, and then unilaterally declared a truce.

"Alright, alright, it's Chinese New Year, I'm not going to argue with a physics teacher like you, you're uncultured."

Old Zhao waved his hand and pushed the fruit plate towards Chen Zhuo.

"Have some tangerines, I just bought them, they're quite sweet."

Chen Zhuo peeled an orange and casually placed half of it on Lao Zhou's coffee table.

The atmosphere in the room completely relaxed.

The conversation naturally turned to the current students of the No. 1 Middle School in the city. As a senior teacher and grade leader in the junior high school, Lao Zhao always had endless things to say about the students, as they were the focus of most of his life.