A perfect score on the college entrance exam? The Preface to the Pavilion of Prince Teng has astonis

Anyone in the world who understands mathematics can tell whether you are right or wrong.

A PhD student in mathematics published a long article.

"What is the Poincaré Conjecture? I've studied mathematics for ten years, and I still can't memorize the complete statement of this conjecture."

"It's not because I'm stupid, it's because it's too difficult."

"Its proof requires mathematical tools that span differential geometry, topology, partial differential equations, and dynamical systems."

"A normal PhD in mathematics needs more than five years to master these tools. He says seven days?"

"I don't know if he's a genius or a madman, but I do know that if he can really provide a proof of the Poincaré conjecture in seven days, then he's not human."

A science popularization blogger with a million followers posted a video.

With an excited tone: "Everyone, let me explain to you just how difficult the Poincaré conjecture is."

"This conjecture is one of the seven Millennium Problems selected by the Clay Mathematics Research Institute, each with a reward of one million dollars. So far, only one has been proven—the Poincaré Conjecture has not been proven."

"Have I made myself clear? For over a hundred years, the world's brightest mathematicians have been unable to solve it."

"An 18-year-old high school graduate claims he'll go into seclusion for seven days to prove this? Do you think that's believable?"

Some people choose to believe.

"Have you forgotten? Every time he was questioned before, he proved himself in the end."

"Perfect score on the college entrance exam, Preface to the Pavilion of Prince Teng, Ode to the Goddess of the Luo River, Exhortation to Learning—every time you've been proven wrong, haven't you learned your lesson?"

"That's because those are humanities subjects. Humanities subjects can be prepared for, memorized, and written in advance, but math can't."

"Just you wait and see. In seven days, Chen Mo will shut you all up."

"In seven days, Chen Mo will make you all laugh your heads off."

The voices on both sides were like two rivers, colliding and surging on the same riverbed, neither giving way to the other.

In the professors' group at the School of Mathematical Sciences, Peking University.

The messages started flooding in from the afternoon.

Initially, someone forwarded Chen Mo's video with the caption.

"Everyone, did you see this?"

The group chat was quiet for a long time.

A professor in his fifties finally replied.

"I saw it, the Poincaré conjecture, he said it."

Another professor replied.

"Impossible. This isn't a matter of talent; it's a matter of accumulation. The mathematical tools required to prove the Poincaré conjecture are not something an eighteen-year-old can master."

The third professor replied, "But he got a perfect score in math on his college entrance exam."

The second professor replied: "The gap between getting a perfect score on the college entrance exam in mathematics and proving the Poincaré conjecture is farther than the distance between the Earth and the Moon."

The group chat was quiet for a while.

Then an elderly professor with gray hair sent a message. He was the former head of the mathematics department at Peking University and had already retired.

But they're still in the group.

"You're all right. Statistically speaking, it's impossible for him. But you've forgotten one thing—he's also the one who wrote 'Preface to the Pavilion of Prince Teng.' In your view, it's also impossible for an eighteen-year-old to write 'Preface to the Pavilion of Prince Teng,' statistically speaking."

The group chat fell silent again.

No one replied.

Because nobody knows how to refute it.

When Teacher Zhang from the Peking University Admissions Office saw Chen Mo's video.

I'm sitting in the office organizing materials for new students.

She put down the documents in her hand and stared at the line of text on her phone screen.

"Seclusion for seven days."

She didn't know the significance of the Poincaré conjecture, but she saw the reactions of the math students in the comments section.

She knew that what Chen Mo was about to do was a million times more difficult than writing poetry.

She picked up her phone, intending to call Chen Mo, but hesitated for a moment and then put it down.

she thinks.

He didn't need her to call and ask, "Are you sure?"

He needed her to wait quietly.

Several professors from the Mathematics Department of Peking University also began discussing it privately.

Some people think that Chen Mo is humiliating himself.

Some people think he's just creating hype, while others think he's been driven to desperation by Liu Zhiyuan and is grasping at straws.

Only one professor remained silent.

His name is Lin Zhiyuan, he is in his early fifties, specializing in differential geometry, and is the person in the Department of Mathematics at Peking University who has gone the furthest in the study of the Poincaré conjecture.

He has been researching in this area for over a decade and has published more than a dozen papers.

Although we are still far from a definitive proof, he is one of the people in China who understands this issue best.

Lin Zhiyuan was revising his thesis in his office when he saw Chen Mo's video.

He put down his pen, stared at the book cover on his phone screen, and remained silent for a long time.

Poincaré conjectured the problem he had studied for most of his life.

An eighteen-year-old boy said he would prove it in seven days.

His first reaction was disbelief, not arrogance, but professional judgment.

He knew the difficulty of the problem and how much knowledge was required.

It is known how many years it would take a typical PhD in mathematics to reach the forefront of this problem.

An eighteen-year-old boy, impossible.

But then he thought of something else.

Chen Mo got a perfect score in the college entrance examination mathematics.

He didn't just get a perfect score, he got a perfect score in all subjects.

A person who can get a perfect score in the college entrance examination mathematics can at least demonstrate that their mathematical foundation is perfect and without any flaws.

A person who can get a perfect score in the college entrance examination mathematics can at least demonstrate that their mathematical foundation is perfect and without any flaws.

Such a person, if they start learning university-level, graduate-level, and doctoral-level mathematics on their own from a very early age.

In theory.

He has the potential to reach the forefront of this field.

But between "possibly" and "actually achieved" lies a mathematical history spanning over a hundred years.

He picked up his phone and typed a message in the professors' group chat.

"I won't make a judgment; I'll wait seven days."

After sending the message, he put his phone on the table.

Leaning back in my chair, I stared at the ceiling.

He recalled that when he was young, he also had the wild idea of ​​"proving a difficult problem in seven days".

He was twenty years old at the time, a freshman in college, and felt he could do anything.

It took him ten years to realize that mathematics cannot be improved through mere speculation.

It is derived page by page.

One lemma after another, accumulating.

Polishing each paper one by one.

He closed his eyes, and a tiny voice inside him was speaking.

What if? What if he actually did it?

He opened his eyes again, picked up his phone, and sent a message to Chen Mo.

He didn't send a WeChat message because Chen Mo wasn't his WeChat friend.

He sent a text message; the number was obtained from the admissions office.

The content is very short, just one sentence.

"I am Lin Zhiyuan from the Department of Mathematics at Peking University. If you need help, please feel free to contact me. Regardless of the outcome, I wish you all the best."

After sending it, he looked at the words "Sent successfully" on the screen.

Suddenly I felt a little ridiculous.

An eighteen-year-old boy claims he wants to prove the Poincaré conjecture, while he has been studying this problem for over a decade.

They were actually waiting for his results. He put his phone in his pocket, stood up, and walked to the window.

Outside the window is the Peking University campus, with Weiming Lake shimmering in the distance.

The shadow of Boya Pagoda is cast on the lake, shattered by the wind, and then pieced back together.

He stood there for a very long time.

Meanwhile, on the other side of the city.

Chen Mo sat at his desk.

A stack of white paper lay on the table, and a pen was held in his hand.

The curtains were drawn, the desk lamp was on, and its orange light bathed the entire tabletop.

The corners of the world map on the wall were slightly yellowed by the light.

Like an old photograph.

He wrote the title at the very top of the first blank sheet of paper: "The Proof of the Poincaré Conjecture".