Chapter 65

Modern day, classroom.

"Zheng Fa, you're about to lose me!"

Zheng Fa looked up from his desk, stunned for a moment, until his mind pulled free from the indescribable mathematical symbols and recognized the person speaking to him as Wang Chen.

The other's expression looked deeply pained.

"I tolerated you memorizing textbooks!"

"I tolerated you ranking second in class and top ten in grade!"

"I even tolerated you being vague and cozy with Tang Lingwu!"

"… "

Wang Chen's tone turned agonized: "But look at what you're doing now!"

Zheng Fa glanced at the "Perfect Score Secret Papers" in his hand: "What's wrong?"

"You're memorizing exam papers! And you pick the hardest problems to memorize!" Wang Chen sighed. "We've known each other for years—I thought I understood you. But now, you've become so twisted I feel like I don't know you at all…"

Zheng Fa fell silent, then said: "You're not the only one. I think I'm a little twisted too."

"?"

"You don't understand the feeling of being forced by life to cram these disgusting things into your brain… I'm starting to feel sick. I'm leaving."

Saying that, Zheng Fa checked the sky, shook his head, and headed downstairs—today was the day he and Tang Lingwu were going for Bai Lao's tutoring.

Watching Zheng Fa leave, Wang Chen stared blankly back and asked his desk mate: "Did Zheng Fa just insult himself? Did he study himself stupid?"

"Looks like it!" The desk mate nodded, watching Wang Chen pull out a textbook from his desk and begin muttering with his eyes closed. He asked curiously: "What are you doing?"

"Memorizing!" Wang Chen opened his eyes, impatiently: "Don't interrupt my studying."

"… You're copying Zheng Fa?"

"Why not?"

"Then why did you just insult him?"

Wang Chen turned to his desk mate, voice astonished:

"You don't want to insult him?"

"… I do!"

"You don't want to become him?"

"… I do!"

"Then what's your problem?"

…

Zheng Fa and Tang Lingwu walked side by side toward the staff housing building.

"Tang Lingwu, you've been preparing for the math competition all along?"

"Mm."

Tang Lingwu glanced at him, as if puzzled why he'd ask such an obvious question.

"Have you ever encountered problems that are insanely hard to calculate, disgustingly complex, and torturously frustrating?"

"Your question makes me utterly confused."

"Uh, if you've ever come across problems like that, you could send them to me."

Zheng Fa requested of Tang Lingwu.

"Why do you want them?"

"I need to memorize them."

There was no choice—selecting problems for Zhang Shijie was no easy task.

Too simple wouldn't do; it wouldn't give Zhang Shijie enough pleasure, and she might abandon this lifeline.

Too hard—like century-old unsolved problems—wouldn't work either; Zheng Fa believed Zhang Shijie savored the thrill of conquering difficult problems, not being crushed by them.

One shouldn't… shouldn't be this twisted.

Proof problems were out of the question too—not only because she might not know them, but because if there were too many, Zhang Shijie would eventually notice the difference between his math and the Xuanwei Realm's.

He never underestimated a genius, especially a Golden Core Stage genius.

Under these conditions, the only problems left were those with insanely complex calculations—even disgustingly so.

Zheng Fa felt he needed to accumulate more such problems regularly to satisfy Zhang Shijie.

Tang Lingwu fell into long silence, saying nothing—neither yes nor no.

"Why aren't you speaking?"

Tang Lingwu pressed her lips together, then finally said: "If you're under too much pressure, I know a hospital that's good for this."

…

"Has Grandpa Bai gone to the hospital?"

When they arrived at Bai Lao's house, they discovered he wasn't home—the door was opened by an unfamiliar middle-aged woman.

"Nothing serious. The old man's getting old; he has a checkup every year."

"Who are you?"

"You must be Tang Lingwu and Zheng Fa—come in," the woman invited them, introducing herself: "I'm his daughter."

Zheng Fa and Tang Lingwu exchanged glances.

They both knew Bai Lao's daughter worked at Qing Shui Middle School—in logistics, they thought—but had never met her before.

The three sat on the living room sofa; Bai Lao's daughter studied them, as if searching for words.

After a while, she gathered her thoughts: "I've heard both your names from my father—he says you're both hardworking and very intelligent."

"… "

Zheng Fa and the other exchanged a glance; neither spoke, only listening intently to what the other would say next.

Usually, such an opening was not meant to praise them.

"I should also thank you both. I have a job, there are children at home, and matters inside and outside the household are numerous and busy," Bai Lao's daughter continued. "With you two keeping my father company, having more bustle around him puts my mind at ease."

Zheng Fa glanced at Tang Lingwu, who seemed unaccustomed to speaking with elders, and spoke up himself: "That Professor Bai is willing to teach us is something for which we should be thanking him."

Bai Lao's daughter smiled and said, "That's just his nature. He likes spending time with young people, refuses to admit he's aging. Since retiring, he's been plagued with ailments, yet he still can't let go of his mathematics and wants to stay in Jingcheng to write some book."

Zheng Fa began to understand the reason behind their invitation inside.

"I brought my father back hoping to care for him nearby," she said with a helpless smile. "But the old man refuses to live with us, claiming he fears the noise, insisting on staying only in this old house."

"He is afraid of troubling you," Zheng Fa nodded.

Bai Lao's daughter nodded, then said, "You two are not much older than my own children, so I regard you as juniors. Thus, I will speak plainly: I brought him back hoping that in his twilight years he could rest more, take better care of his health, and enjoy some family happiness."

"I do not oppose his taking two students, but... these past few days I heard he has been staying up late drawing some diagrams, and that I cannot allow."

Zheng Fa recalled the notebook at his own home.

"Do you understand what I mean?"

Zheng Fa and Tang Lingwu nodded; this was a request for them to trouble Bai Lao less, especially not to let him stay up late again.

Zheng Fa felt this remark was primarily aimed at himself.

"I can only say these words while the old man is absent. Otherwise..."

The sound of the door opening arose; Bai Lao walked in carrying a white plastic bag bearing the imprint of the Second Hospital.

"Eh? Arrived so early?" he said upon seeing Zheng Fa and the other, then turned to see his own daughter, frowning: "What did you tell them?"

"Dad, how were the examination results? What did the doctor say?" Bai Lao's daughter did not answer his question.

"The results will be out later; they said we can view them on the phone, so they sent me back first. The doctor prescribed some medicine—just those usual things. After taking them for over ten years, I could write the prescriptions myself."

Bai Lao answered his daughter's question but did not drop the previous one: "You couldn't persuade me, so you came to persuade them instead?"

"Dad..."

"I told you my health is perfectly fine." A flash of annoyance crossed Bai Lao's face.

"Don't I know you? You forget to eat or drink while writing a book, then faint in the library, scaring the leadership half to death!" Bai Lao's daughter did not indulge him either. "Otherwise, why would I have brought you back!"

"It's just a bit of hypoglycemia, an old trouble. Besides, it's nothing serious!" Bai Lao's voice lowered slightly.

"You are old! Do you understand what 'old' means?" Bai Lao's daughter raised her voice even higher. "Just wait and see; when the physical examination report comes out, which of your myriad ailments will be missing?"

"It won't kill anyone..." Bai Lao muttered, clearly lacking confidence yet unable to stop his mouth. "When young, I was controlled by your mother; now that I'm old, you control me..."

A notification sound came from the phone in his pocket, seemingly from some application.

Bai Lao picked it up to glance, his expression changing slightly; he hastily put the phone down, looking somewhat guilty.

"The report must be out, right? Dad, why don't you look at it!" Bai Lao's daughter shot him a cold glare.

"Look then look, am I afraid of it?" He tapped open his phone, stared at the screen for a moment, then suddenly frowned, tapping repeatedly on the device.

"What's wrong? Is there some major problem?" Seeing his demeanor, his daughter stopped provoking him and asked anxiously instead: "Should we go to Jingcheng for another check-up?"

"They seem to have mixed someone else's report with mine," Bai Lao looked up, stating with a touch of pride and certainty, "This person has no illnesses at all; clearly, it is not me."

"So you're actually proud of being sick!" His daughter laughed in anger.