"Hey, stop cursing, stop cursing! Chen, we all know you're feeling bitter, just cry it out, man. It's not like the National Science and Technology Progress Award has anything to do with you anymore. I'm so envious of Tan, though. He's been quietly fishing for half a year and now he's got everything."
Unless something unexpected happens, he'll be going to the Capital to receive his award next January. And you, my dear friend, will have a fine January in 2025 as well, probably during the winter vacation, comfortably watching your former partners receiving awards on the red stage from your living room television."
No sooner had Zhang Zhou's gentle voice faded than Gu Zhengliang added on the side, "Yeah, it's true. Chen, I checked for you, next January is the Spring Festival, and sure enough, the holiday will have started when they announce the awards. Come to think of it, you're actually making out like a bandit— who wants to make a special trip to the Capital during their vacation, right?"
"Fuck me, you two fuckheads!"
Chen Yiwen finally snapped, uttering a dialect curse before he could no longer care about how cold the unheated dorm was in March, climbing right out of his bed and charging towards Zhang Zhou's bunk.
It wasn't that he actually wanted to harm Zhang Zhou; he simply wanted the fatso to learn that there are perils in the world, and mouthing off doesn't lead to a good end.
"Don't come over here, Chen! Gu, help..."
"Chen, don't be , the fat man is afraid of the cold. If you steal his blanket, he'll get a cold... Oh, by the way, the inside of his thigh is really sensitive, a gentle pinch can make him scream... Just don't touch there, okay?"
"Fuck, Gu... you scumbag... Ah, that hurts!... I was wrong, Chen, I was really wrong! Stop pinching, please stop..."
Ten minutes later, the dorm finally quieted down again, and Chen Yiwen was back in his own bed.
After causing a ruckus, the three guys became more serious.
"Ahem, what if we go beg the class monitor to let Qiao out for a meal? Maybe we can get a project of our own too? I really don't want to work on a project with Liu anymore. Slaving us around all day is one thing, but the key problem is, there's no future following him!
Qiao has already solved a Millennium Prize Problem, published countless top-tier journals, held prominent conferences, and he's about to graduate with his PhD, while his project has us still gathering data—I'm starting to wonder if he got a phony PhD."
If Liu Chenfeng heard Zhang Zhou's assessment, he would probably snort disdainfully and say "ignorance is bliss."
Qiao Ze had given him the topic "Research on Mixed Type Partial Differential Equations of Nonlinear Waves in High-Dimensional Spaces."
That topic is tough, right?
If he could perfectly solve this problem, it could be used to simulate wave propagation phenomena in mediums with complex geometric structures.
That's a topic that could get into the big four journals. Give it to a professor, and it might take several years to solve.
Qiao Ze had handed it to him less than four months ago, and now these two undergraduates thought they should have solved it by now, shameless.
In reality, Liu Chenfeng was already quite satisfied with how the project was progressing.
With Qiao Ze's help, he had used the energy method and spectral theory to identify several suitable boundary conditions that could ensure the well-posedness of the problem, and he had already completed the existence and uniqueness of the solution under one of the boundary conditions.
He estimated that he could finish in about another half a year at most.
To think that from project initiation to conclusion in just ten months, he could produce a paper of the caliber that would place him at the top of the pyramid of mathematical research in Huaxia.
And yet, someone was questioning whether he had a phony PhD...
It's not as if he could really compare himself to Qiao Ze, could he?
Who else in this world has the ability and the guts to compare with this icon?
Fortunately, Liu Chenfeng wasn't there to hear it, but Zhang Zhou's comment made Chen Yiwen's heart skip several beats...
It seemed like a plan.
He was a veteran member of the Qunzhi Project Team. Back in the day when he was first to answer the call for the team's meals, he was always at the forefront, and the first man to call Su Mucheng "boss lady."
So maybe by sweet-talking her, perhaps he could indeed mix in for another title?
It should be workable, right?
In the United States, California, at the Berkeley Branch campus, behind the mountains—the National Mathematical Research Center of the United States.
Robert Stephen had just walked into his office when he heard the incessant ringing of the phone on his desk.
Without even taking off his coat, Robert Stephen hurriedly walked over and picked up the phone.
"Hello, Professor Stephen, this is Edward."
"Professor Whitten, how are you? Is there something you need?"
"Have you heard the news? Qiao Ze's doctoral thesis is finalized."
"Hmm? Doctoral thesis? What do you mean?"
"You don't know? Qiao Ze's doctoral thesis is on the mass gap problem of Yang-Mills fields. Colleagues in Huaxia have almost confirmed that Qiao Ze has perfectly solved the problem."
"Oh?" Robert Stephen was somewhat surprised.
Even though he had always harbored no fondness for Qiao Ze and even made a point of avoiding news about this young genius from Huaxia, the news relayed by Edward Witten still took him aback.
The pace was just too fast, as if the young man didn't need any time to think, or seek a reliable path.
Everyone had thought the new algebraic approach would let everyone compete on an equal footing for the chance to grasp the twin jewels of mathematics and physics, but no one expected that just as their research was making a little progress, the other side would declare they had completely shut down the entire road.'