Chapter 101: Can

On the podium, Xu Qingzhou had already read through all the problems.

No wonder no one could solve them—it involved group representation theory, finite field Galois theory, algebraic geometry, and applications of category theory in algebra; though fundamental, it required a comprehensive understanding and ability to apply multiple core fields.

Xu Qingzhou was thinking about how to solve it; the classroom remained utterly silent.

Liang Quanjie thought Xu Qingzhou was arrogant—this problem was hard; he had asked a senior third-year student who had only just solved it yesterday, and though he roughly understood the approach, he had no confidence he could explain it clearly.

If he went up and couldn’t solve it, it would be embarrassing.

Xue Ying pursed her lips, watching Xu Qingzhou curiously; she had a strong liking for this boy, but he was so aloof, and most importantly, there was Song Yao.

Beside her, Shen Yueqing muttered to herself, growing more and more annoyed with Xu Qingzhou—he clearly didn’t know how to solve it, yet insisted on going up to show off.

At this moment, Xu Qingzhou put down his lesson plan and picked up a piece of chalk to write on the blackboard.

Envy, jealousy, hatred—couldn’t solve it, absolutely couldn’t solve it! He now understood another truth: it was painful when your roommate solved it, but this kind of crushing victory was utterly despairing.

Read! {

As he passed by his roommate, Xu Zhengyang gave a thumbs-up and said, “Awesome,” completely awed—Old Xu was clearly a prodigy.

“I’m going to the library too,” Zhai Ziqiang felt the pressure and sighed: “Those better than you work harder than you—what excuse do we have not to work?”

Kong Xianbo squinted, giving Xu Qingzhou a long look, thinking: Old Xu, you can’t keep playing like this forever—you’ll have to pay someday.

Watching how crushed everyone looked, he was quite satisfied, thinking: Now you understand that one mountain towers above another.

“Old Xu, heading back to the dorm after this?” Xu Zhengyang didn’t ask Kong Xianbo or Zhai Ziqiang—he knew both would head straight to the library.

“Yes, student Xu Qingzhou did exceptionally well—the proof was very concise.”

“This student,” Jiao Mingwu looked at Xu Qingzhou with satisfaction, delighted that the math department seemed to have produced another extraordinary genius.

Xu Qingzhou spent ten minutes writing down everything; the blackboard was completely filled.

“Old Xu, did you really just think of that solution when you went up?”

Deng Guangxu put down his files and asked the front passenger, Wu Tianyu: “Little Wu, you spent some time with Xu Qingzhou this morning—what did you think?”

“The library,” Xu Qingzhou said; earlier, Zhu Sitong had announced in the group chat that there would be a class meeting tonight at six—normal for first-years.

Song Yao was currently at the library; not seeing her felt like something was missing.

Jiao Mingwu tapped the blackboard: “The key to solving this is to use tools from algebraic geometry to analyze the relationship between the point set on c and the representation p of g.”

“Damn, Old Xu, awesome,” Xu Zhengyang caught up, babbling away.

“Old Kong, why are you walking so fast?” Xu Zhengyang suddenly noticed Kong Xianbo had quickened his pace, as if stung by something.

Deng Guangxu smiled: “Our institute is exactly short of talent like this—we should keep in touch; if he’s willing, he could come here for further study.”

The classroom remained eerily silent; all eyes were fixed on the blackboard.

Shen Yueqing’s expression looked like she’d swallowed a fly; though she desperately didn’t want to admit it was Xu Qingzhou’s work, the fact was right there. Liang Quanjie felt equally crushed—he couldn’t understand it; he was a competition veteran, after all, and should have had an edge in math—why was he worse than Xu Qingzhou?

He felt dazed—he really had solved it.

Jiao Mingwu stood beside him holding a teacup; seeing Xu Qingzhou begin writing, he hesitated, thinking: Could he really solve it? Proving this action indeed defines a {c}[x,y]-module structure, and verifying that i acts as zero on v: u=e1+1c[x,y]/i. Step 1: correct.

!.

“Alright, I’ll ask around later,” Wu Tianyu nodded, recalling the morning’s events and gritting her teeth again—she was only twenty-nine herself, still in her prime. “This problem…” In Kong Xianbo’s hopeful gaze, Xu Qingzhou smiled faintly—he knew what Kong wanted to hear—and sighed: “The time up there was enough.”

Seeing Xu Zhengyang’s exaggerated expression, Xu Qingzhou warned: “Old Xu, keep it low-key.”

Jiao Mingwu sighed, shaking his head—there would be plenty of opportunities; no rush.

Xu Qingzhou told Jiao Mingwu his name.

Step 2: hmm, no problem either.

“Oh? To hear you call someone a ‘genius’—this student must indeed be exceptional.”

If that were true, he would say: Old Xu, you pulled off that show brilliantly—I’m completely convinced.

By third and fourth year, seeing your advisor twice a semester was considered a lot.

“Professor, finished.”

“Might as well call him a genius,” Wu Tianyu murmured.

“Xu Qingzhou.”

After the advanced algebra class ended, Jiao Mingwu had planned to keep Xu Qingzhou behind for a chat, but before he could speak, Xu Qingzhou had already packed up and left.

“The library,” Kong Xianbo muttered.

Xu Qingzhou stepped down from the podium and walked straight to his seat.

Among the crowd, Xue Ying’s eyes sparkled as she watched Xu Qingzhou; at that moment, she felt he was glowing.

Xu Qingzhou’s calm voice jolted everyone in the audience awake.

Seeing everyone looking at him, he began his lecture.

Jiao Mingwu nodded slightly and gestured for Xu Qingzhou to step down: “All the proof is here, but I still need to explain some parts—this problem, beyond requiring advanced mathematical tools, contains a wealth of mathematical insight.”

But since there was a class meeting, the originally scheduled run had to be canceled.

Kong Xianbo adjusted his glasses, grinding his back molars until they felt like they might shatter.

Young people really have energy.

Below, the students’ expressions turned remarkably vivid—eyes wide, staring in disbelief at the boy furiously writing on the podium.

Jiao Mingwu’s gaze shifted from suspicion to astonishment, then to deep admiration—the writing was perfect.

Kong Xianbo still clung to a sliver of hope—that Xu Qingzhou had solved this problem long ago, and what he’d done on stage was just for show.

At the back of the classroom, Xu Qingzhou picked up his pen and wrote down what he’d thought of before going up—he hadn’t been listening to the lecture.

While Xu Qingzhou was in class, Deng Guangxu and Wu Tianyu had already boarded the car returning to the institute; the MRI equipment was installed in an experimental cabin beside Building 2, with a separate isolation room and control room.

Xu Zhengyang had a good attitude: “I seem to remember that saying wasn’t quite like that.”

Zhai Ziqiang asked: “How was it then?”

Xu Zhengyang thought for a moment: “Someone better than you works harder than you—what’s the point of you working?”

Click~ Ahead, Kong Xianbo suddenly froze in place, as if something inside him had shattered.

(End of chapter)