24: Chapter 24 Memories flood back

In an old apartment building in the Jingyuan Residential Area, Chen Youhua uncharacteristically slept until the sun was high in the sky on his familiar single bed.

There was no six o'clock alarm, no urgent cell cultures to handle, and no experimental designs to repeatedly simulate in his mind.

There were only the sporadic sounds of firecrackers from outside, carrying the flavor of the New Year, and the warm scent permeating the room—a scent unique to home, a mix of old books, wooden furniture, and sun-dried bedding.

He was awakened by a long-lost, deep sense of tranquility.

His consciousness was like a stone sinking to the bottom of a lake, slowly floating back to the surface.

Every muscle in his body was relaxed. Much of the fatigue accumulated from months of high-intensity study and experimentation—fatigue that had felt like a cancer clinging to his bones—seemed to have been melted away by this long and peaceful sleep.

He opened his eyes and looked at the familiar fine cracks on the ceiling, a strange sense of detachment welling up in his heart.

The room was quiet, save for the sound of his own breathing.

He couldn't hear the usual busy sounds of his parents from the living room or kitchen either.

He sat up and walked to the window.

The residential area downstairs was livelier than usual. Children in new clothes were chasing each other and playing, red cured meats and sausages hung from neighbors' balconies, and the air was filled with a faint smell of gunpowder and the aroma of stewing food.

It was New Year's Eve, he suddenly realized.

His parents had obviously headed out early to catch the final market rush and buy ingredients for the New Year's Eve dinner.

This familiar pattern, where he didn't need to worry about any of life's trivialities, was the fundamental backdrop of home.

At home, he only needed to exist.

He took a deep breath, and the cold air, carrying the unique scent of the New Year festival, rushed into his lungs.

A clear realization hit him: Professor Zhang was right.

He needed this brief detachment.

He walked to his desk, his gaze sweeping over the neatly stacked high school textbooks and notes, finally landing on the towering piles of used exam papers nearby.

Those papers, layered upon layer, were so numerous they even overshadowed the books stacked beside them, like miniature peaks built from exercises and formulas.

His fingertips brushed over them, picking up a bit of fine dust.

A few months ago, he was still fighting hard in this sea of problems.

Even with his extraordinary memory, understanding and mastering those knowledge points—especially conquering those tricky, difficult problems—still required round after round of calculation, deduction, and trial and error.

Grinding through a massive number of problems was a necessary path.

Later, when the high school curriculum could no longer satisfy him, he dove headfirst into the ocean of various Olympiad problems.

That was another world, filled with complex logic, ingenious concepts, and pure brain-burning challenges that ordinary people could hardly imagine; sometimes those problems were so outrageous they made one doubt the creator's intentions.

His gaze unconsciously shifted to the small locked cabinet under the bookshelf.

As if possessed, he crouched down and pulled open a drawer that hadn't been touched in a long time.

A faint scent, a mix of old wood and the smell of things long sealed away, wafted out.

Inside were no books or notes, but rather some forgotten small objects lying quietly.

His childhood toys.

A faded green tin frog that could jump clumsily a few times once wound up.

A mottled plastic Rubik's Cube that could be twisted into various irregular shapes at will.

A few dusty glass marbles reflecting faint light from the depths of the drawer.

And a transparent plastic ball containing an intricate maze of passages; one had to patiently shake the ball to guide the small steel bead inside to the finish line...

These simple little trinkets seemed so childish now.

But back then, his younger self thought they were absolutely magical and cool—treasures worth showing off to his little friends.

At that time, he was ignorant and innocent, only reaching up to his parents' waists, and liked to stick to them like a little tail.

He was shy and afraid of strangers; his first reaction upon meeting an unfamiliar adult was to shrink behind his parents and tightly grasp the corners of their clothes.

In his memory, there was even a helpless scene from kindergarten where he turned around to find his parents gone, and a momentary panic overwhelmed him as he cried and shouted for his mother in the strange environment.

A few months ago, he was still a youth who had just left high school, full of a desire to explore the future.

A few months later, he had been reshaped by the rhythm of the laboratory; his thinking had become cold and efficient, and his emotional needs had been compressed to almost nothing.

He rationally categorized Xiao Wen's enthusiasm as interference, and his parents' concern sometimes became just another stream of information to be processed.

"This isn't right."

He said to himself, his voice sounding exceptionally clear in the quiet room.

He possessed an unspeakable secret: that silent Prompting System.

This secret was destined to be lonely, but that didn't mean he had to turn himself into part of the secret—a cold machine that only pursued efficiency.

What would be the point of such an existence, even if he eventually climbed to the peak of academia?

That wasn't who he wanted to become.

The sound of a key turning in the lock came from outside the door, followed by his parents' low but still excited conversation and the rustle of plastic bags.

"Youhua? Are you awake?"

His mother's voice rang out in the living room, filled with the thick atmosphere of the New Year and joy.

Chen Youhua couldn't help but pat his head. Having just returned home, he wasn't quite used to this leisure and had almost slipped back into his previous state.

He quickly withdrew the overly sharp light in his eyes, and his face returned to its usual calm.

He closed the drawer and gently pushed it back into place, as if closing a door to his distant childhood.

He pushed open his bedroom door and saw his parents carrying bags of New Year's goods into the kitchen, their faces beaming with busy and satisfied smiles. The rich aroma of stewing meat wafted from the kitchen.

"Yeah, just woke up."

He responded, walking over to naturally take the heavy bags from his father's hands.

"You bought so much?"

"It's the New Year! How can we not buy a lot!"

His mother said with a chuckle, looking him over carefully.

"Did you get enough sleep? You look much better! Go wash up quickly, then help me prep the vegetables in a bit!"

"Okay."

Watching his parents' busy figures and feeling the tangible, smoky atmosphere of the New Year festival hitting him, he once again agreed with the rest Professor Zhang had requested.

He truly needed the warmth provided by his family.