Chapter 15: Chapter 5: Burning CPU and the Millennium’s Snow
He thought that if his willpower was strong enough, he could ignore his body’s ordinary limitations.
But he was wrong.
Dead wrong.
This was reality.
Reality is gravity, the laws of thermodynamics, biological limits.
Even if his soul belonged to Einstein, if it were housed in a rabbit’s body, he wouldn’t be able to work out the theory of relativity. He would just pass out from insufficient blood flow to the brain.
Chen Zhuo watched the clear liquid drip through the IV tube and silently took himself to task.
’I treated this body like a tool, something expendable.’
"You’re awake?"
A hoarse voice spoke.
Chen Jianguo had woken up at some point and was now staring at him with bloodshot eyes.
Chen Zhuo opened his mouth, his throat so dry it felt like it was smoking. "Dad..."
"Don’t talk."
Chen Jianguo stood up, poured a cup of water from a thermos, and scooped up a little with a spoon. He touched it to his own lips to test the temperature before bringing it to Chen Zhuo’s mouth.
"Drink."
Chen Zhuo obediently took a sip.
The warm water soothed his throat like a welcome rain after a long drought.
Watching his son’s face regain some color, Chen Jianguo let out a long breath. He slumped into the chair as if his spine had been removed.
"Son."
Chen Jianguo pulled out a cigarette. Just as he was about to light it, he remembered he was in a hospital room and irritably stuffed it back into the pack.
He looked at Chen Zhuo, his expression complex.
It was a mixture of heartache and the kind of seriousness that passes between men.
"Do you know what happened to you last night?"
Chen Zhuo nodded. "A fever."
"It wasn’t a fever."
Chen Jianguo shook his head and pointed to his own temple.
"The doctor said your brain was working too fast for your body to keep up. It’s like that old machine tool at our factory—you insist on fitting it with a high-speed steel blade. And what happens?
The blade doesn’t snap. The lathe bed itself shatters."
The metaphor was precise and quite hardcore.
Chen Zhuo fell silent.
"I know you want to do well."
Chen Jianguo held Chen Zhuo’s small hand, the one still with the IV needle in it. The hand was so thin it was heartbreaking.
"But you can’t be in such a rush that you wreck the car, right? If the car breaks down, what’s the point of being able to run fast?"
Chen Zhuo looked at his father.
This man, who was usually so carefree and only ever seemed to think about fixing machines, had just spoken the simplest, most profound truth.
"Dad, I was wrong."
Chen Zhuo lowered his head. This was the first time since his rebirth that he had truly admitted he was wrong.
"If you’re wrong, you fix it."
Chen Jianguo pulled a piece of paper from his pocket.
It was the daily schedule Chen Zhuo had previously posted on the wall.
It was densely packed with writing: 6 AM, memorize vocabulary; noon, do physics problems; evening, derive formulas...
There was time for sleep, but no rest, and certainly no play.
Chen Jianguo held up the schedule and, right in front of Chen Zhuo, tore it to pieces.
RRRRIP—
The sound of the paper tearing was exceptionally clear in the quiet hospital room.
"From now on, you’ll do what I say."
Chen Jianguo took a small notebook from his pocket. It was something he had written last night while keeping watch in the hallway.
"First, you must sleep at least ten hours every day. One minute less, and I’ll burn all your books."
"Second, that multimeter of yours—I’m confiscating it. I’ll give it back when you can pass the standing long jump."
"Third..."
Chen Jianguo paused, a mischievous grin spreading across his face.
"Starting tomorrow, you’re getting up with me every morning to run. Two kilometers. Not a single step less."
Chen Zhuo was stunned.
’Running?’
’He wanted me, a mental laborer who would never stand if he could sit, to go running?’
"What? You don’t like it?" Chen Jianguo glared.
Chen Zhuo looked at his father’s stubbled face, then glanced at his mother, still sleeping soundly nearby.
He took stock of his own weak, feverish body—a body that had nearly been scrapped.
He remembered the gear from his dream last night, the one that shattered for lack of lubricating oil.
’What was the lubricating oil?’
’Rest.’
’And what was the steel structure?’
’The body.’
"I’d be happy to."
Chen Zhuo smiled.
Though his smile was still a bit pale.
"Dad, just running isn’t enough."
"Oh? What else do you want to do?"
Chen Zhuo glanced at the rising sun outside the window. His gaze grew firm again, but this time, the fanatical restlessness was gone, replaced by a deep, quiet strength.
"I also need to eat meat," Chen Zhuo said seriously.
"I want to eat beef, drink milk. I need to grow taller."
Chen Jianguo froze for a second, then burst out laughing. His laughter was so loud it made the IV bottle shake.
"Alright! Eat! I’ll sell the pots and pans if I have to, but I’ll make sure you have meat at every meal!"
The laughter woke Liu Xiuying. She raised her head groggily. "What’s going on? Who wants to eat meat?"
"Mom, I want to eat meat."
Chen Zhuo looked at his mother, a hint of gentleness in his eyes.
"I want to grow up strong like Dad."
「The first day of the year 2000.」
Chen Zhuo lay in his hospital bed, watching the snowflakes finally begin to fall outside the window.
A timely snow promises a bountiful year.
That year, Chen Zhuo was seven years old.
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