My IQ has been increasing year by year.

Chapter 430 All Day

When the door to the large conference room was pushed open, traces of last night's meeting were still visible inside.

Several agenda sheets that hadn't been collected were scattered on the long table, and two names, half-erased, were written on the whiteboard in the corner. The curtains were half-drawn, and the morning light shone in from outside, falling on the center of the table.

Woolley went in first and tidied up the clutter on the table.

Pierre sat down at the table.

Cyril sat to his left.

Arthur didn't sit down immediately. He stood by the table, looked down at the question page, and after a few seconds, reached out and pulled out a chair.

David put his cup down without drinking.

No one spoke.

The large conference room fell silent very quickly.

Outside in the corridor, people were talking in hushed tones. After a while, those voices also quieted down.

The door wasn't closed properly.

But no one just walks in.

Woolley placed the coffee pot on the corner of the table and then brought back a few cups.

The steam from the coffee slowly dissipated.

No one reached out to pour it.

At first, they just watched.

Pierre had been watching all night, and when he sat down, he returned to the spot where he had stopped the night before.

Cyril started reading from the first few pages.

Arthur didn't touch the first page; he picked up a small stack from the middle and later sections.

David sat near the blackboard, flipped through a few pages, and then looked up at the skeleton left on the blackboard from the previous night.

Chen Zhuo sat on the other side of the long table.

He offered no explanation.

He would push the page to whichever page someone asked about.

If someone needed a transition between paragraphs, he would pull it out of the manuscript and place it in the corresponding position.

Apart from that, he rarely spoke.

Around 11 a.m., the first pot of coffee in the conference room went cold.

Woolley changed the pot.

People stopped outside the door several times.

Someone peeked through the crack in the door and saw Cyril sitting inside, and also saw Pierre and Arthur, so they didn't go in.

Someone asked in a low voice from the other end of the corridor:

"Still there?"

The person next to him lowered their voice:

"It's still there."

The person asking the question glanced again toward the conference room.

I didn't ask any more questions.

At noon, no one showed up for the lunch that had been arranged.

Woolley brought in some cookies and paper plates from the lounge.

The cookie box was placed on the corner of the table, open.

After a long time, only two pieces were missing.

Cyril only stood up once while reading the manuscript.

He walked to the window, took off his glasses, and looked outside for a few seconds.

A few young people carrying books walked by on the lawn outside.

The sun is shining brightly.

Inside the Van En Building, it felt as if something was being held down.

Cyril put his glasses back on, returned to the table, and picked up the few pages of paper again.

Arthur remained seated in his original position.

The stack of papers he was looking at wasn't thick.

But he didn't change locations for the entire noon.

On one occasion, he put two pages back on the table and then picked them up again.

Later, he pushed the coffee cup aside, as if it was in the way.

David saw it and asked in a low voice:

Which page?

Arthur did not answer immediately.

He read it again.

It took a long time before one of the pages was pushed in front of David.

"here."

David took it.

He looked down.

At first, he read very quickly.

Later it slowed down.

The meeting room fell silent again.

The blackboard was wiped clean at 1:30 pm.

It's not about proving anything again.

The relationships that are only visible on paper can only be seen clearly when they are placed on the blackboard.

The chalk makes a very soft sound when it falls.

Pierre wrote a few lines, and Chen Zhuo added a symbol next to them.

Arthur stood up, walked to the blackboard, and looked at it for a while.

Cyril sat at the table, his fingers pressing on the manuscript paper, without looking up.

At 3 p.m., there were more people outside the conference room.

It's not about being a bystander.

There was no noisy crowd in Fan En Lou.

People who were supposed to be going to their offices would slow down as they passed the entrance to the large conference room.

People who were supposed to be in the lounge getting coffee would glance this way.

The small discussion group that was supposed to start was missing two teachers.

Someone asked why it hasn't started yet.

The teaching assistant glanced at the end of the corridor and simply said:

"Wait a minute."

At 3:30, Cyril came out and made a phone call.

The call was very short.

He said the afternoon's schedule would be postponed.

The other person seemed to have asked for the reason.

Cyril paused for a moment, then simply said:

"Something has come up in the math department."

He didn't explain further.

After hanging up the phone, he didn't go back to his office, but instead pushed open the door to the large conference room again.

The moment the door opened and closed, several people in the corridor saw the long table inside.

I saw the manuscript paper on the table.

I also saw the title page at the very top.

The door closed again very quickly.

The group of people stood there and exchanged glances.

No one spoke.

Around 4 PM, the first copy was ready.

When Woolley entered with the photocopy, someone in the hallway glanced at the paper in his hand.

Black and white on white paper.

The questions are no longer just handwritten notes on a light yellow title page.

It was copied, stapled together, and pressed into Woolley's hands.

Proof of the Hodge conjecture.

The man paused for a moment after seeing it clearly.

Woolley didn't stop.

He took the copy into the conference room.

The door closed again.

After five o'clock, people in Fan En Building began to pack their things in advance.

Normally, the lounge would be bustling again around this time.

Some people were drinking coffee, some were talking about dinner, and some were standing in front of the blackboard continuing the questions they hadn't finished discussing during the day.

Today is different, though.

The voices in the lounge were low.

Someone mentioned Pierre.

Someone mentioned Cyril.

Someone mentioned Chen Zhuo.

At first, some people said:

"Is it still not over on the Hodge side?"

After he finished speaking, no one responded.

Because that statement is no longer entirely accurate.

No one knows how far they've progressed in understanding it yet.

No one can say that this manuscript has been fully verified.

But everyone in Vann Building understood that what could make Pierre sit all night, make Cyril cancel his afternoon plans, and make Arthur sit for hours in front of the same stack of papers was not just "direction".

In the evening, Arthur came out of the main conference room once.

He wasn't holding a cup or any manuscript paper.

I just went out to wash my face.

The tap is on.

The sound of cold water falling into the pool was clear.

Arthur stood by the sink for a while.

The old man in the mirror had gray hair and looked a little tired.

He looked up at himself in the mirror.

Then turn off the tap.

Turn around and go back.

A young postdoctoral researcher happened to pass by in the corridor.

Upon seeing Arthur, he instinctively stopped.

"professor."

Arthur glanced at him.

"Today's seminar is canceled."

The postdoctoral researcher paused for a moment.

"Because of Chen?"

Arthur did not answer immediately.

After a few seconds, he said:

"Because of Hodge."

After saying that, he pushed open the door and went back into the main conference room.

The postdoctoral researcher was standing in the corridor.

He didn't leave even after the door closed again.

At 6:30, it got dark outside.

One by one, the lights in Fan Enlou were turned on.

In the large conference room, the words on the blackboard have been changed several times.

Some areas were worn gray from being wiped clean, with new chalk writing pressing over the old marks.

The long table was covered with the original manuscript, copies, draft paper, coffee cups, and a few uneaten cookies.

Chen Zhuo sat in his original spot.

His face didn't reveal much expression.

He only occasionally answers when someone asks for page numbers.

Sometimes, he would stand up and write half a line on the blackboard.

After finishing writing, he sat back down.

Pierre leaned back in his chair, holding the last few pages in his hand.

He had already read it once.

I watched it a second time.

Cyril flipped back to the beginning and looked for a new definition.

David looked down and jotted down a few page numbers on the paper.

Arthur did not speak again.

He just stared at a connection on the blackboard for a long time.

At 8 p.m., Woolley went to the lounge to get another coffee.

This time, there were noticeably more people in the lounge than usual.

Someone is standing by the window.

Someone was sitting on the sofa, but not reading the book in their hand.

As soon as Woolley entered, several pairs of eyes fell on him.

He placed the empty coffee pot under the machine and pressed the button.

No one asked immediately.

The coffee machine started beeping first.

After a long while, someone spoke in a low voice:

"Is it not over yet?"

Woolley shook his head.

"no."

"Is Pierre still there?"

"exist."

"Where is Cyril?"

"Also there."

The lounge fell silent for a moment.

Some people want to ask more.

But in the end, I didn't ask.

Woolley waited until the coffee was full, then picked up the pot and prepared to leave.

As I reached the door, I heard someone whisper behind me:

"It's not as simple as the Madrid Report, is it?"

Woolley paused for a moment.

He didn't turn around.

There was no explanation.

Just say:

"no."

Then he took the coffee pot and went outside.

The corridor is very long.

The lights were still on in the large conference room at the far end.

A ray of light shone through the crack in the door.

Woolley walked over and pushed the door open to go inside.

The person inside is still in the same position he was in when he left.

Pierre is reading the manuscript.

Cyril is looking at the blackboard.

Arthur sat at the long table, his fingers pressing down on a photocopy.

Chen Zhuo lowered his head and took a sip of water.

No one speaks.

Woolley put down his coffee.

This time, Cyril reached out and poured himself a glass.

He picked up the cup, but didn't drink it right away.

His gaze fell on the center of the table.

The light yellow title page is still there.

A day passed, and the piece of paper was no longer as abrupt as it had been in the morning.

It sat there, like the only thing in the entire conference room that hadn't been moved.

Proof of the Hodge conjecture.

Around 9 PM, the door to the main conference room opened once.

not over.

Someone came out to get some paper, but quickly went back inside.

Several offices were still lit up in the corridor.

The door wasn't even completely closed.

Van Enlou seemed to be waiting for something, or perhaps he already knew something.

No one announced it.

No one applauded.

No one has said that this certificate has completed all the tests.

However, from morning till night, that stack of manuscripts kept Pierre from leaving, made Cyril cancel his appointments, made Arthur cancel the seminar, and made David sit in the conference room reading through it page by page.

That's enough.

By evening, no one in Vane Building was talking about Hodge's direction anymore.