Chapter 41: Chapter 25: Death Gaze
The second class of the morning.
Math.
Chen Zhuo sat in the special, plush chair right in the middle of the front row.
Today’s math lesson was on absolute values and opposite numbers.
For Chen Zhuo, this couldn’t even be called knowledge. It was practically common sense.
It was like someone at the front of the room teaching you how to breathe, or how to blink.
Boring.
Mind-numbingly boring.
Chen Zhuo wasn’t paying attention.
He was secretly working on his copy of *Jimmy Dovich*.
At the front of the class, Old Zhao was writing on the blackboard.
|-5|=5
|3|=3
The chalk tapped against the blackboard, making a TAP, TAP, TAP sound.
Old Zhao normally taught very slowly and meticulously, as if he were afraid that the group of kids in front of him wouldn’t be able to keep up.
But something was off about Old Zhao today.
The students in the front row quickly noticed something was amiss.
Normally when Old Zhao taught, he would bestow his attention evenly, his gaze sweeping across the entire classroom.
But today...
Old Zhao’s gaze was like it was drawn by a magnet, fixed squarely on the seat in the very center of the front row.
That look in his eyes...
How to describe it?
It had a faint green glint to it.
Like an old wolf, starved for three days, staring at a plump, tender lamb.
Kindness mixed with a hint of fanaticism, and fanaticism tinged with a trace of savagery.
Chen Zhuo felt it.
It was a prickly feeling on the back of his neck, one that Chen Zhuo couldn’t ignore even if he tried.
The teacher looked up from a book on his desk, adjusted his glasses, and then smiled at Chen Zhuo.
It was a smile that made Chen Zhuo’s scalp prickle with dread.
The "you can’t run from me" kind of smile.
It suddenly made Chen Zhuo picture Jack’s grin from *The Shining*.
’Did he catch me sneaking snacks?’
’I hid them so well, though. Nothing was visible.’
’Did he find out about me skipping class yesterday?’
’No, that can’t be it. Old Zhou wrote me a pass for that.’
Chen Zhuo couldn’t make heads or tails of it.
But he was a rational person.
’Since I can’t figure out what’s going on, I’ll just wait and see how things play out.’
He nodded at Old Zhao, putting on a docile smile that perfectly matched the persona of a nine-year-old child.
Then he lowered his head and went back to his copy of *Jimmy Dovich*.
Seeing Chen Zhuo’s "obedient" act only stoked the fires of Old Zhao’s irritation.
’He’s just putting on an act.’
’Go on, keep pretending.’
’Yesterday he was using calculus to figure out friction, and today he’s playing the innocent child for me?’
’Fine.’
’After class, we’ll settle all our scores, new and old.’
BRRRING!
The bell rang, signaling the end of class.
Old Zhao tossed the chalk stub accurately into the chalk box and clapped the dust from his hands.
"Class dismissed."
Just as the entire class started to rise, Old Zhao added one more thing.
"Chen Zhuo, come to my office."
The classroom fell silent in an instant. Dozens of pairs of sympathetic eyes turned toward the figure at the front of the room.
Being called to a teacher’s office for a private chat was rarely a good sign.
Chen Zhuo closed his book, his expression impassive.
He wasn’t flustered.
Chen Zhuo had a vague feeling that what Old Zhao felt for him wasn’t anger.
It was more like... urgency?
Chen Zhuo slowly followed Old Zhao into the small office within the grade-level faculty area that belonged exclusively to the teacher.
Old Zhao walked in, plopped down onto his chair, and pulled the door shut.
CLICK.
The sound of the lock engaging was exceptionally clear in the quiet room.
"Sit."
Old Zhao pointed to the chair across from him.
Chen Zhuo sat down obediently, placing his hands on his knees and sitting up straight.
"Teacher Zhao, you wanted to see me?"
Old Zhao didn’t say anything.
He lifted his teacup and took a sip, wetting a throat made dry by his lecture.
Then, his gaze shot out from behind his lenses, scanning Chen Zhuo like an X-ray.
"I hear Old Zhou’s been giving you some special treatment?"
Old Zhao’s voice was flat, betraying no emotion.
Something clicked in Chen Zhuo’s mind.
’So it really is about that.’
"Yes."
Chen Zhuo nodded honestly.
"Teacher Zhou gave me a book to read in the lab."
"Hmph."
Old Zhao let out a cold snort and slammed his teacup down on the desk.
"That old coot... Did he tell you that physics is the ultimate truth of the universe? The origin of all things?"
Chen Zhuo blinked.
’It seemed... possible... maybe... that Old Zhou had said something along those lines?’
"That’s bullshit!"
Old Zhao suddenly swore, leaning forward, his somewhat weathered face completely serious.
"Chen Zhuo, you’re a smart kid. You should know that in this world, only one thing is absolute."
Old Zhao raised a single finger, pointing it toward the heavens.
"And that is mathematics."
"Physics? What’s that?"
Old Zhao’s face was a mask of contempt.
"It’s an empirical discipline."
"It’s nothing but approximations, cobbled together by running experiments, fudging data, and patching up holes."
"One day, Newton is right. The next day, Einstein comes along, and Newton has to be revised. The day after that, someone else pops up, and Einstein gets revised too."
"Physics is the flesh and blood. It looks full and interesting; it can build rockets and atomic bombs."
"But!"
Old Zhao’s voice suddenly rose in volume.
"Without the skeleton of mathematics, physics is just a pile of rotting meat! It’s a heap of sludge that can’t even stick to a wall!"
"The calculus you use, the differential equations you use—who invented them? Mathematicians!"
"Physicists are just borrowing our tools! They’re merely laborers in service of our truth!"
This speech was delivered with a force that could awaken the deaf and make the very floorboards resonate.
Chen Zhuo was completely stunned by the tirade.
Of course, he already understood this principle.
But he had never expected the normally serious and rigid Old Zhao to be so aggressive when it came to trashing physics.
This wasn’t some academic rivalry; this was a holy war.
"Teacher..." Chen Zhuo began weakly. "I think physics is pretty interesting too..."
"Interesting my ass!"
Old Zhao cut him off with a wave of his hand.
"That’s because you haven’t seen real mathematics yet."
Old Zhao pulled open a drawer.
He pulled out a yellowed exam paper and slapped it down in front of Chen Zhuo.
"Old Zhou has you calculating rockets? Crunching all those rough numbers?"
"So vulgar!"
"That’s what engineers do."
Old Zhao pointed to the final, capstone problem on the exam paper.
"Look at this."
"This is number theory. It’s the jewel in the crown of mathematics, the language God used to write the code for the universe!"
Chen Zhuo looked down.
There was only a single line of text.
(Tsk, who knows how to input mathematical symbols here? But I’ll add that the problem is actually pretty interesting.)
No complicated diagrams.
No long-winded background descriptions.
Just pure numbers and pure logic.
"This problem,"
Old Zhao stared at Chen Zhuo, his eyes blazing.
"The kids on the ninth-grade math competition team stared at this for a week, and not a single one of them could solve it."
"You like a tough challenge, don’t you?"
"This is the toughest one there is."
"Now. Right here. Solve it for me."
Old Zhao pulled a fountain pen from his pen holder and handed it to Chen Zhuo.
"If you can’t solve it, then you can go back to playing in the mud with Old Zhou, and I’ll give up on you for good."
"But if you solve it..."
Old Zhao paused, dangling the bait.
"Then I’ll show you what true special treatment really is."
Comments