Chapter Sixty-Six: Manuscript Approved

Zhou Wenping first corrected that proverb which had unsettled him. The elegant expressions of Chinese tradition always seemed to lose their poetic charm once translated into English. He didn’t dwell on this discomfort, but went straight to the matter at hand.

“Oh, the Zhou Conjecture has been proven? That truly is interesting news—Tao will certainly be intrigued as well. Did you prove it yourself? No, that can’t be; if it were your proof, your name and that of your students would need no special advocacy from me!” Zhou Wenping was quite renowned internationally; his submissions would always be handled with care and priority by the Annals of Mathematics.

Even the pride of top journals depended on whose work was before them.

“No, it wasn’t me. It’s a brilliant young girl, just sixteen years old, one of our own, a student at Capital University this year!” Zhou Yongping felt no sense of regret that the proof was not his. In the end, their generation would age and fade, but the rise of successors was the true wellspring of China’s flourishing.

“Sixteen? A child of that age has proven the Zhou Conjecture? My God, that’s an age to make anyone insanely envious. Another Tao, perhaps?

Very well, I understand. I look forward to seeing such a beautiful proof. News of progress in mathematics always brings joy. To borrow a saying from your country, tonight I’ll raise a glass. I must wake a bottle of red wine—for the youth! Cheers! May mathematics remain forever young!”

“Cheers!” Zhou thought admiringly of the man’s attitude—he would not correct that borrowed phrase tonight.

Terence Tao—winning a gold medal at the International Mathematical Olympiad at thirteen; a bachelor’s degree from Flinders University at sixteen; his master’s at seventeen; a doctorate from Princeton at twenty-one; a professorship at UCLA from twenty-four; the Fields Medal, Ramanujan Prize, and MacArthur Genius Award at thirty-one; the Alan Waterman Award in 2008…

He fervently hoped that Wu Tong might one day shine as brilliantly as Terence Tao. If Capital University and China could produce another Tao, the country’s position in the international mathematics community would grow all the more formidable.

Hanging up the phone, Zhou Wenping took the paper and went straight to the office of the Dean of the Mathematics Institute. Promising saplings needed fertile soil and the right rewards—these were matters teachers must arrange properly.

Meanwhile, Andrew Wiles opened his computer to search the preprint site arXiv, but found no sign of the paper he was hoping for. The world of number theory was as uniform as ever—no fresh breakthroughs as he wished.

That was the only flaw with these Chinese youngsters: they didn’t have the habit of immediately posting to arXiv. If he ever met this young mathematician, he would be sure to remind her of this.

Suppressing his curiosity, he waited until the next day. When the Annals of Mathematics editorial office opened, he called to urge them to locate the paper and expedite its publication. There was a good chance that, during peer review, he might see it ahead of time.

How many in the world remained whose expertise in number theory surpassed his own?

The night after submitting her paper, Wu Tong received an email confirming her manuscript had passed the editorial format review and would soon be sent to academic editors for peer review—her work was now officially “under review.”

She couldn’t help but praise the blessings of being under a great tree—she was enjoying the shelter provided by Capital University.

She had looked into the process and found that at this stage, papers were often returned for revisions multiple times. Perhaps her writing was solid, and with Professor Li Yisheng’s guidance, this hurdle had been easy to clear.

But the next stage—external peer review—was the strictest part of the SCI process. The verification of a proof could not be swiftly concluded; repeated checks and evaluations were inevitable. Thus, Wu Tong felt no urgent anxiety about when her paper would be published.

Perhaps she would also have to experience the “Revise” phase before publication.

Wu Tong continued her steady routine of study and research. In her work on twin primes, she had discovered some intriguing clues while proving the Zhou Conjecture, but those leads were still too scattered to form a bridge to the other shore.

She was not in a hurry but continued her learning and thinking at her own pace.

Research was always a process others found tedious, yet for those who loved it, it was a source of joy.

Time moved into April. On the fifteenth, just after finishing a materials science class, Wu Tong’s phone rang.

“Wu Tong, where are you?”

“Professor Li, I’m at the School of Materials Science!” After being caught auditing a physics class, Wu Tong decided not to draw too much attention and headed instead to audit classes in the College of Chemistry and the Department of Materials Engineering. She hadn’t studied this area as deeply as mathematics or physics.

However, she wasn’t one to favor one discipline to the exclusion of others; anything that piqued her interest, she would study. These fields, especially materials science and engineering, were more application-oriented.

Originally, her plan had been to build a foundation of theoretical knowledge first, and then, when time allowed, to explore more practical applications.

But after completing the Zhou proof, and with her “Stele of Enlightenment” nourished with new strength and a sharper sense for right and wrong, Wu Tong immediately thought of experimental applications. She borrowed university-level textbooks on chemistry, materials science, and engineering from the library and studied them in depth. With time on her hands these past few days, she began auditing classes in those departments.

Learning on her own, combining her understanding with the professors’ explanations and the clash of ideas, was clearly yielding even better results.

“You’re auditing classes in the School of Materials again?” Professor Li Yisheng found it both amusing and exasperating. While their team was anxiously awaiting updates from the Annals of Mathematics, the main author, Wu Tong, was calmly off attending materials science classes!

What else could explain such a gifted student? Her interests were truly broad—physics last time, now materials science.

“Check your inbox. There should be a new update from the journal editor! On second thought, come to my office.”

“Yes, Professor Li!” Wu Tong was very familiar with Professor Li Yisheng’s office and made her way there with practiced ease. On the way, she opened her email and checked for updates. To her surprise, she had skipped the “Revise” stage—her submission status was now “Completed—Accept.”

There was also a letter from the editor: “Dear Ms. Wu Tong, your manuscript has passed the review of the Annals of Mathematics and will be included and published in our journal. We plan to…”

After scanning the tasks required of her, Wu Tong put away her phone and entered Professor Li’s office. Only then did she realize there were others present besides Professor Li—several unfamiliar faces, whose demeanor and bearing marked them as anything but ordinary. Was Professor Li entertaining important guests? It seemed she had arrived at an inopportune moment.

Chapter Three delivered; two more chapters will be updated later. Shang is working hard on the manuscript!

(End of Chapter)