Li Dong was just about to enter his Memory Palace to check on things.
Then, another group announcement appeared.
[1923, Göttingen.]
[For the first time, in the private notebook he kept perpetually open, Felix Klein saw a structure that was at once completely new and strangely familiar.]
[He was silent for a long time.]
[Then, on a blank page of the notebook, he wrote a single line.]
["Someone has finally pushed open the door I left behind in Erlangen."]
[The technology tree of universe #1936 in a parallel timeline has experienced a minor deviation.]
[In this timeline, Klein resumed revision work on the *Erlangen Program* during the last two years of his life, adding a Chapter on "non-commutative cases."]
[After his death, this Chapter would be compiled and published by Weyl, guiding the convergence of geometry and number theory in the latter half of the 20th century and advancing it by thirty years.]
[Reward: File Transfers +2.]
Li Dong stared at the screen, a slow grin spreading across his face.
"Heh heh heh..."
Chuckling like a fool, he slammed a fist on the table, startling Wang Hao beside him.
In the middle of his laughter, Li Dong suddenly froze.
For some reason, the comforting words Liu Ruochuan had spoken to him in the seminar room earlier that day surfaced in his mind.
’"If we can’t figure it out today, we’ll work on it tomorrow."’
’"Don’t push yourself so hard..."’
At the time, he’d also felt as if some mysterious force were pushing him forward.
Now, it dawned on him.
’What damn mysterious force?’
’It was just because every time he accomplished something, there was a reward to claim in the group.’
’So it was greed that was pushing him forward...’
Upon recognizing this as a flaw in his own character, Li Dong silently spat on the ground.
’Greed? What greed?’
’This is a hunger for knowledge!’
’This is a passion for scientific research, a passion for academia.’
’I am a noble man, a pure man, a man above base-level interests, a man of great ambition.’
He spent a minute or so mentally brainwashing himself.
Then, with a clear conscience, he accepted this latest windfall.
Only then did he let out a long sigh, close his eyes, and sink into his Memory Palace.
And there, on the wooden table at the very center of the Palace, lay a thick notebook.
It had a leather cover and yellowed pages.
A few lines of small German text were gilt-stamped onto the front cover.
Göttingen, 1915—1925.
Ten years.
Ten years of original drafts from Göttingen’s core trio.
Li Dong reached out to touch the notebook.
But his hand passed right through it.
"Hm?"
Li Dong leaned in for a closer look and realized the notebook was semi-transparent.
A line of faint white text floated in the notebook’s top-left corner:
[Loading: 17.3%]
And below that, a countdown:
[Estimated Time Remaining: 30 days]
Li Dong was a little stunned.
’Thirty days?’
The books he’d scanned before in the Yan University Library, even tomes like Serre’s *Algebraic Number Theory* and Hartshorne’s *Algebraic Geometry*...
...had been saved to his Memory Palace in the time it took to take a sip of water.
’This private notebook doesn’t even look that thick, and it needs thirty days?’
He thought for a moment.
’It’s probably not just an issue of the volume of information.’
’It’s also about the perspective.’
Just as he was mulling it over...
Someone tapped Li Dong lightly on the shoulder.
"Brother Dong? Brother Dong?"
Li Dong finally snapped out of it and withdrew from his Memory Palace.
Wang Hao was looking at him with a worried expression.
"You were sitting there laughing like an idiot for ages. I called your name and you didn’t even react," Wang Hao said in a hushed voice.
"Are you okay?"
"I’m fine, I’m fine," Li Dong coughed. "Just thinking about something."
Then he remembered he hadn’t answered Wang Hao’s earlier question about how confident he was.
"Actually, I’m not very confident about this paper."
Hearing this, Wang Hao didn’t quite know how to feel.
To be honest, a tiny part of him, deep down, hoped Li Dong would fail just once.
It wasn’t that he wished him ill. It was just that watching the guy operate on god mode for the past six months without even pausing for breath, he needed a tiny shred of evidence to prove Li Dong was still human.
But another little voice in his head immediately jumped out and pointed an accusing finger at him.
’This is your roommate! Your most respected Brother Dong! Are you even human?!’
Just as he was wrestling with his conscience...
Li Dong slowly added,
"I’m probably... only about ninety percent sure."
Wang Hao turned and walked away, not even deigning to reply.
Li Dong just smiled and paid Wang Hao no mind.
He started to review his paper.
Headers, footers, references, figure numbers, theorem numbers—he checked and corrected them one by one.
He worked on it until well past eleven at night.
The entire paper was finally finished. Just as Li Dong was about to send a copy to both Old Yang and Professor Penrose...
For some reason, the image of that grand edifice, of which he could only see the silhouette, surfaced in his mind again.
So, after the ’Concluding Remarks,’ he typed out a new heading on a separate line.
[Conjecture]
Once he was done, he emailed the final version to Professor Penrose and Old Yang.
If neither of them had any objections, he would submit it tomorrow.
「The next morning.」
Old Yang’s reply on WeChat was sharp and to the point:
"No problems. Go for it."
Professor Penrose’s reply, on the other hand, was a dose of English-style emotional support that made Li Dong’s scalp tingle.
My dear Dong,
I must say, this paper is simply marvelous.
The leaps in logic might seem almost reckless to a layman.
But to those of us who have watched them being constructed, they are the highest form of praise for mathematics.
I have no revisions to suggest. Please, send it out in the manner you deem most fitting.
— R.
Li Dong finished reading, held back a laugh, and replied, "Thank you, Professor Penrose."
’Foreigners really know how to lay on the emotional validation,’ he thought.
Then he opened the online submission system for the *Mathematical Annals*.
He logged in.
Clicked ’Submit New Manuscript.’
Title: A Zero Locus Criterion for the Local-Global Compatibility of Automorphic Representations of GL(n) and a Generalization to the General Case
Authors: Li Dong (Yan University), Arthur Penrose, Yang Shengguo (Jiangcheng Seventh Middle School)
In the affiliation field for Old Yang, he entered ’Jiangcheng Seventh Middle School.’
This was quite possibly the first time the name of a middle school had ever appeared in the submission system for the *Mathematical Annals*.
He chuckled, then...
Corresponding Author: Li Dong (Yan University)
He clicked ’Confirm Submission.’
[Thank you for your submission. Your manuscript has been received.]
[We will contact you in due course regarding any updates on your manuscript’s status.]
Li Dong let out a long breath and closed his laptop.
Then he stretched.
’Time to relax.’
’Teacher Liu was right.’
’Don’t push yourself so hard.’
’Rewards, windfalls, the Fields Medal... it’s all just smoke.’
’The most important thing is to relax.’
So this morning, he was going to attend old Professor Zhang Lufang’s class.
After all, what could be more relaxing than studying?
That pure knowledge, drifting through the air and seeping into his brain, bit by bit—not for a project, not for a paper, not for anything at all...
...just purely enjoying the way it all arranged and combined itself inside his head.
For Li Dong, that was the most relaxing thing in the world.
Humming a little tune, he headed out the door.

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