My IQ Increases Year by Year

It was the afternoon of the seventh day of the Lunar New Year, and the weather outside was still a bit chilly.

From the distant alleys, the sporadic CRACKLE of firecrackers could be heard, followed by silence. A faint warmth, a remnant of the holiday festivities, still lingered in the air.

But inside Zhang Qiang’s bedroom, that warmth had long since frozen over.

Zhang Qiang was slumped in his swivel chair, looking as if he’d lost the will to live. His body, like a boneless noodle, was slowly sliding down the back of the chair.

His desk could only be described as a small altar.

On the left was a tall stack of unopened boxes of Life Number One and Brain Platinum. On the right was a pile of brand-new review books for the second semester of eighth grade. And in the very center of the desk, placed with the reverence of a memorial tablet, sat a black hardcover notebook.

That was the Life-Ending Talisman Chen Zhuo had personally handed him on the second day of the New Year, right in front of his parents.

Next to the notebook, in the shadow cast by the desk lamp, was a neat stack of shiny coins.

Fifty of them.

Not one more, not one less.

That was the capital he had planned to squander at the downtown arcade on the second day of the New Year. Now, it was all just for show.

Whenever Zhang Qiang’s head grew fuzzy from doing his homework, he would just stare blankly at the stack of arcade tokens, as if mourning his winter break, which had been declared dead before it even began.

DING-DONG—

The doorbell rang.

This was followed by the sound of the door opening, and then his mom’s voice, which suddenly jumped an octave, filled with surprise and enthusiasm.

"Oh! Xiaozhuo is here! Come in, come in! It must be cold outside, right?"

Slumped in his chair, Zhang Qiang’s ears twitched, and he sat up a little straighter.

"Happy New Year, ma’am. I came to hang out with Qiangzi for a bit."

Chen Zhuo’s gentle voice drifted in from the living room.

"Wonderful, wonderful! Qiangzi is in his room reading. You came at the perfect time. Go on and give him some pointers. He’s been cooped up in his room every day staring at that notebook you gave him. I have no idea if any of it is actually sinking in."

Listening to the exchange outside, Zhang Qiang couldn’t help but roll his eyes.

Footsteps stopped outside his bedroom door.

The door was pushed open.

Chen Zhuo walked in and looked at the slumped figure of Zhang Qiang, a faint, almost imperceptible smile playing on his lips.

Zhang Qiang’s mom followed close behind, holding a large tray.

On the tray were not only gleaming, washed Red Fuji apples and sliced oranges, but also two bottles of Robust brand milk—a drink she’d normally never let Zhang Qiang have just for fun.

"Xiaozhuo, have a seat here."

Zhang Qiang’s mom enthusiastically pulled out a chair from beside the desk and wiped the already spotless seat twice more with a tissue.

"Oh, please don’t go to any trouble, ma’am. I just ate before I came over."

Chen Zhuo smiled and sat down.

"It’s no trouble, no trouble. All that studying is draining. You boys need brain food. Have some fruit."

Zhang Qiang’s mom placed the tray on the corner of the desk. When she turned to look at Zhang Qiang, the smile on her face vanished instantly, replaced by a stern expression.

"Zhang Qiang, Xiaozhuo barely gets any time off during the holidays, yet he made a special trip to see you. If there’s anything you don’t understand, ask him right away. Don’t dawdle and waste his time, you hear me?"

"I know,"

Zhang Qiang replied listlessly.

"Well, you two take your time. I’ll get out of your hair and let you study."

Her smiling face returned as she looked at Chen Zhuo. She tiptoed out of the room and, ever so thoughtfully, pulled the door shut tight. They could even hear her footsteps fading as she walked away.

The door to the room clicked shut.

The moment the door closed, Zhang Qiang, who had just been a motionless heap, shot up from his chair as if he were spring-loaded.

He darted to the door in a few strides, pressed his ear against it for a few seconds to confirm his mom had gone to the living room to watch TV, and only then did he turn around.

Zhang Qiang pointed a finger at the seated Chen Zhuo, his face a mask of grief and indignation.

"Brother Zhuo."

Zhang Qiang kept his voice low, but it was brimming with endless grievance.

"What the hell got into you on the second day of the New Year? I can handle you screwing me over normally, but giving me this notebook in front of my mom? You’ve signed my death warrant! I haven’t even taken a single step outside the front door these past few days!"

Chen Zhuo leaned back in his chair, watching Zhang Qiang’s wild gesticulations. He didn’t say a word, simply reaching out to pick up the topmost arcade token from under the lamp.

He flipped the coin between his fingers.

"You seem pretty energetic to me," Chen Zhuo said with a smile.

"Energetic my ass!"

Zhang Qiang ran a hand through his already messy hair, walked back to the desk, and plopped down hard in his chair, pointing at the winter break homework on the desk.

"You totally screwed me over on the second. I memorized that notebook, but what’s the use? Just thinking about school starting in a few days, about Old Zhao standing at the back door giving me the death glare through that little window... my legs are already shaking."

The more Zhang Qiang spoke, the angrier he got, until he finally threw his pen down on the desk.

"It was like this all last semester. Old Zhao stared at me every single day. He’s treating me like his special project now. During morning self-study, if I drop my eraser and bend over to pick it up, he’ll glare at me through the window for ages. And now, thanks to this ’ultimate weapon’ you gave me, my mom laid down the law yesterday. If I don’t score in the top twenty of the class when school starts, she’s going to go to the school herself and ask Old Zhao to ’double his magic’ on me!"

Zhang Qiang let out a long sigh and stared up at the ceiling.

"My life is over."

Chen Zhuo sat beside him, listening to Zhang Qiang’s non-stop torrent of complaints. With a flick of his thumb,

CLINK. The arcade token flew into the air and landed squarely back in his palm.