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

Liu Zhiyuan's response came faster than anyone expected.

Chen Mo posted that video less than two hours ago.

He then posted a new video.

This time, he didn't sit behind that familiar desk.

Instead, he stood with a white wall behind him.

There is no background decoration.

His expression was more serious than ever before.

It was so solemn, even somewhat tragic, like a martyr about to be executed.

"Chen Mo, I heard your conditions."

"You said if I prove it, I'm willing to pay the price."

"Okay, I'll tell you my answer now—if you can prove your ability to get full marks in all subjects, if you can provide me with convincing proof in subjects like math, physics, and chemistry where cheating is not allowed, then I, Liu Zhiyuan, will quit the internet."

"Account deleted, never to appear on the internet again."

His voice was very loud, so loud that it was almost shrill.

"I'm not joking, and I'm not trying to create a buzz; I'm serious."

"Because I trust my judgment, it's impossible for someone who usually scores around 400 points to suddenly become an all-around genius."

"Literature can be packaged, but science can't, so I'm willing to bet on it. What about you? Are you willing to take the risk?"

After the video was released.

The comment section exploded instantly.

"Is Teacher Liu serious? Is he quitting the internet?"

"The fact that he dared to take such a big gamble means he's confident. He must have found out something."

"Don't be fooled by his bravado; he's just trying to save face. Once Chen Mo has truly proven himself, he'll leave the internet for a few days, then come back under a different alias."

"No matter what, this time we'll really see who wins."

"Would Chen Mo dare to accept? If he accepts but can't produce anything, then he'll really be in trouble."

"Can't you guys have a little faith in Chen Mo? It's true that he got a perfect score on the college entrance exam; the Education Bureau has confirmed it."

"His perfect score on the college entrance exam is real, but that doesn't necessarily mean he's a strong science student. What if there's something wrong with his perfect score?"

"You people are always questioning. Chen Mo has proven himself time and time again, and you've questioned him time and time again. Aren't you tired of it?"

"I'm not tired. Because the truth is worth waiting for."

Two trending topics were listed side-by-side at the top of Weibo's trending list.

"Liu Zhiyuan quits the internet".

"Will Chen Mo answer?"

The supporters on both sides argued fiercely, like two groups of ants fighting over the same cookie.

And the owner of the cookies.

He is currently sitting at his desk in his bedroom.

A thick English original book was laid out in front of me.

The cover bears the large words "Poincaré Conjecture".

Chen Mo stared at the line of text and remained silent for a long time.

This world has no Perelman, no Hamilton, no Ritchie.

The Poincaré conjecture has been proposed for over a hundred years, and no one has yet proven it.

It is one of the seven unsolved mathematical problems.

A reward of one million US dollars has been offered, but no one has claimed it to this day.

In another world, Grigory Perelman published three papers between 2002 and 2003.

The Poincaré conjecture was proved using the Ricci flow method.

Then he turned down the Fields Medal and a million dollars.

He lives in seclusion in an apartment in St. Petersburg.

They live off their mother's pension.

Those papers do not exist in this world.

But Chen Mo had it in his mind.

This is not a complete proof.

He wasn't a mathematical genius; it was impossible for him to memorize Perelman's hundreds-of-pages-long paper word for word.

But he knew the framework, the core ideas, Ricci flow, singularity analysis, and the key lemmas and corollaries.

A thirty-year-old soul whose master's thesis in his previous life was in differential geometry.

He had read Perelman's paper, not once, but many times.

In order to write his graduation thesis, he read those three papers over and over again, no less than twenty times.

Each time felt like climbing a mountain that could never be reached.

He didn't reach the summit, but he remembered the path to it.

He picked up a pen and wrote the first line on the paper.

It's not proof, it's a plan.

He divided the proof of the Poincaré conjecture into seven parts, specifying how long each part would take.

How many pages of derivation need to be completed each day?

He wrote slowly, carefully considering each number.

It's like creating a timetable accurate to the second.

After he finished writing, he looked at the paper, remained silent for a while, then folded it and put it in the drawer.

He picked up his phone, opened Douyin (TikTok), and posted a video.

The video is only five seconds long, showing the cover of an original English book on his desk, with a single line of text.

"Seclusion. Seven days."

He didn't say what he wanted to prove, nor did he say what he was going to do.

There are only four characters.

"Seclusion. Seven days."

But everyone knows what he's responding to.

When Su Wanci saw this video.

I'm having lunch at home.

Her chopsticks stopped in mid-air.

My eyes were fixed on the cover of the original English book on my phone screen.

Poincaré Conjecture.

She didn't know what it was.

But the length of the word and the question mark after "Conjecture" made her heart skip a beat.

She opened her browser, typed in that line of text, and then she froze.

The Poincaré Conjecture is one of the seven unsolved mathematical problems.

A reward of one million US dollars is offered.

No one has proven it for over a hundred years.

He wants to prove this?

seven days?

No one has proven it for over a hundred years.

He wants to prove this?

seven days?

She picked up her phone to call Chen Mo, her finger hovered over the dial button, paused, and then put it down.

She thought he didn't need her to ask him "Are you sure you can do it?"

He needs her to believe that he can do it.

She put down her phone and picked up her chopsticks again.

I picked up a mouthful of rice and put it in my mouth.

It took me a long time to chew before I swallowed it.

When Principal Wang saw this video.

I'm currently reviewing documents in my office.

He put down his pen, picked up his phone, and stared at the cover of the English book for a long time.

He didn't know what the Poincaré conjecture was.

But he knew the word "conjecture".

He also knew about the seven mathematical problems.

I know that it's a mystery that no one has been able to solve for over a hundred years.

He leaned back in his chair, closed his eyes, and had only one thought in his mind.

This kid is really going to make headlines.

He opened his eyes and picked up his phone.

She sent Chen Mo a message: "Don't overwork yourself."

The internet is in an uproar.

"The Poincaré Conjecture??? He wants to prove the Poincaré Conjecture???"

"He's gone mad, completely mad."

"No, wait a minute. His 'seven-day seclusion' doesn't necessarily mean he's trying to prove the Poincaré conjecture, right? He just took a picture of the book cover."

"Then what's the point of him photographing the book cover? Isn't it implying that he's planning something like this?"

"Implication and proof are two different things. He might just be saying, 'I'm researching this.'"

"Research? Seven days? You'll research a mathematical problem that's been unsolved for over a hundred years, and you only need seven days?"

"Can you guys please calm down? We'll know in seven days, won't we?"

The voices of doubt came like a tidal wave.

More intense than ever before.

This time, Chen Mo's challenge is not literature.

It's not about writing poetry or classical Chinese, but about mathematics.

The most rigorous, cheat-proof, and honest subject.

If you know it, you know it; if you don't, you don't. No team can help you.

No writer can write for you.

Write down a formula.