Chapter 34: Chapter 20: Saturation Attack (2)
"For this problem, when we designed it, the intention was for you to treat the ground as a simple rough surface. Air resistance was meant to be completely ignored. We were looking for the standard answer in an idealized model."
"But what did you do?"
Old Zhou pointed at the jagged drawing of the ground, then at the air resistance formula.
"You practically factored in the ground’s intermolecular forces. You’re trying to flip the question designer’s table, aren’t you?"
Chen Zhuo pushed up his glasses, his tone as calm as ever:
"If you don’t account for those factors, the answer is just fudged."
"Fudged?"
Old Zhou raised an eyebrow. "But that’s the number the test was asking for."
"I know."
Chen Zhuo scratched his hair.
"But in that model, without air resistance, the final velocity curve is just a straight line. Nothing but a straight line. It looked weird."
"Looked weird?"
Old Zhou froze for a moment.
"Yeah."
Chen Zhuo answered honestly.
"Since the formula was already at that stage, all I had to do was add a resistance coefficient, k, and integrate it. The curve would become smooth, and the logic would be complete.
It was just a matter of a couple more lines, so I wrote it in while I was at it."
Old Zhou stared at Chen Zhuo for several seconds.
’Just because it looked weird.’
’Just because he was at it.’
"Fine. ’Looked weird.’"
Old Zhou chuckled.
He put down the cigarette in his hand and picked up the paper again.
This time, his movements weren’t just slow; they were tinged with a delicate carefulness.
His large, rough hands caressed the edges of the paper, and his eyes grew incredibly profound.
The school he worked at, City No.1 Middle School, had a name that sounded impressive. Within the city, they were the big fish in a small pond.
But if you took them to the provincial level to compete against the Giants from the Provincial City, they were merely mid-tier.
He had worked his whole life in the physics department, toiling until his hair turned white.
Every year, he sent crop after crop of students to the competitions, but the best result they ever achieved was a Provincial Second-Class Award.
’A Provincial First-Class Award?’
’That was the exclusive territory of those top schools in the Provincial City.’
’A National Award?’
’That was an extravagant hope he didn’t even dare to dream of, like reaching for the moon in the sky.’
Old Zhou had originally thought this was all his life would amount to.
Guarding this broken-down lab, teaching average students, fixing junk, and just waiting for retirement.
This placement test was just a routine affair for him. He figured he’d pick the best of a mediocre bunch, cobble together a team, and go to the provincials to just be another number.
But now, he looked at the paper in his hands.
He looked at the integration formula for air resistance, at the correction term casually added just to "make the curve smooth."
Beneath his old, oil-stained jacket, Old Zhou’s heart suddenly gave two heavy thumps.
’This isn’t a first-year middle school student.’
’This was clearly a peerless sword, yet to be sharpened, that had just CLANGED onto the doorstep of a humble blacksmith like him.’
"Chen Zhuo."
Old Zhou suddenly spoke, his voice a few shades deeper, the previous laziness gone.
"Do you know what our school’s best-ever competition result is?"
Chen Zhuo shook his head.
"Provincial Second-Class."
Old Zhou held up two fingers, waving them with a self-deprecating air.
"And that was five years ago. We got lucky that time; there were a few obscure problems that the student happened to have practiced."
"In the eyes of the provincial competition crowd, our City No.1 Middle School is just some country bumpkin with a bit of cash. They get to eat the meat, and we don’t even get a sip of the warm soup."
At this, Old Zhou paused.
His gaze locked onto Chen Zhuo. Behind his cloudy prescription glasses, it was as if something had been ignited.
It was a flame that had been suppressed for a long time, one that had nearly been extinguished.
"But this time is different."
Old Zhou’s finger tapped heavily on the paper.
"With this paper, with that brain of yours."
"This time, we can go and poke a hole in the sky."
Chen Zhuo looked at Old Zhou.
He could feel the decadent air around Old Zhou receding, replaced by something called "ambition."
"National Award."
Old Zhou spat out those two words as if chewing on a tough bone.
"A National First-Class Award. The whole province only gets a few of those spots. It’s a golden ticket that can pry open the doors to any high school in all of China."
"I never dreamed of it before because I knew what those students were made of. Making them aim for a National Award would be like forcing a duck to perch."
Old Zhou picked up his fan again, but this time he didn’t wave it. Instead, he pointed it at Chen Zhuo, his tone becoming unprecedentedly serious, even carrying a hint of ruthlessness.
"But you are different."
"Your level, kid, is already at that threshold. In fact..." Old Zhou glanced at the integration formula, "...as long as you don’t screw up, you’re higher than all of them."
"So, you have to get into the training team this time."
"Not only do you have to get in, you have to train your ass off for me. Don’t think you’re invincible just because you know a little calculus. Competitions have their own rules, their own pitfalls.
I’m going to feed you every last one of the trump-card problems I’ve saved up over the years."
Old Zhou took a deep breath, as if he had made up his mind.
"For the next six months, you stick with me. If there are other classes you don’t understand or don’t want to listen to, just come to the lab. I’ll give you a green light."
"I only have one demand."
Old Zhou stared dead into Chen Zhuo’s eyes. "Next March, don’t come back and try to fob me off with some Provincial Second or Third-Class award."
"I want the National Award."
"I want to show those arrogant old geezers in the Provincial City that a golden phoenix can fly out of a dump like this too."
Chen Zhuo was taken aback.
He hadn’t expected that by simply adding a few extra formulas on a whim, he would ignite such a fierce fighting spirit in this old man who, until now, had seemed rather sloppy.
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