He knows he can't impose that kind of rigor, can't translate the visions in his head into the mathematical language that would make Jian nod with approval instead of patient tolerance. Not with these imbecile teachers, not with the debt and the deadlines and the constant grinding pressure of just staying afloat. His phone buzzes. He glances at it despite himself. Jenni: wyd? The girl from the party last weekend. The one whose name he's already forgetting. He looks up at Jian, at the problems they'll never finish, at the gap between what he can imagine and what he can prove. "I gotta get out of here," Alex says, standing up and shoving his laptop into his bag. "Booty calls."
Jian shakes his head, but there's no real disapproval in it. Just resignation. "Be ready for next week. You need to finish those problems, and I won't be there to help you."
"Yeah, sure." Alex throws his bag over his shoulder. "See you later, Hirohito."
"Adios, John Wayne."
Alex grins despite himself, the old joke between them, the nicknames that started freshman year and stuck like burrs. He walks toward the stairwell, already composing his response to the text, already letting the Tesla thoughts evaporate into the night air. Behind him, Jian opens his laptop again. His phone buzzes on the table-an email notification, the preview text visible even from across the room:
From: Xiaofeng Chen
Subject: Study
Jian picks up the phone.