The next day, Edward Witten returned to his Princeton home.
With his luggage in hand, he stood at the garden fence, his expression grave and complex. He looked up at the door, hesitated for a long while, but still did not step forward—until a shout came from the window, "Edward, you're back? What are you doing standing there? Come in quickly."
"Maria."
Edward Witten responded and briskly entered the door with his luggage.
Maria, Edward's wife, was thin and her face was lined with wrinkles. She walked up to the door, took the luggage off his hands and placed it aside, then took a good look at Edward and muttered, "It's always like this with you, not knowing to rest properly. Go to your room and sleep."
Edward had obvious dark circles under his eyes, appearing very tired.
"Understood."
Edward replied and sat down on the sofa, turning on the TV without really knowing what was on the screen. His mind was filled with Zhao Yi's words.