Chapter 21: Lights of the Chinese People in Amerika

“Zhengdao, have you met this person at Columbia University?”

Yang Zhenning, in Li Zhengdao’s office, waved the New York Times in his hand and pointed to Lin Ran’s photograph.

Li Zhengdao and Yang Zhenning won the 1957 Nobel Prize in Physics for parity nonconservation; throughout the 1950s, they collaborated extensively, co-authoring over thirty academic papers.

Their relationship later fractured over authorship disputes, regarded as a major loss to the Chinese academic community.

Both possessed extraordinary physical intuition, but their strengths differed: Yang excelled in theoretical derivation, while Li specialized in constructing experimental models.

At this time, their relationship had not yet broken down; Yang Zhenning was still working in Geneva, and his parents had repeatedly traveled there to urge him to return to Huaguo, though he had already decided to seek opportunities in Amerika.

Under these circumstances, he spent the entire January and February in New York, frequently meeting Li Zhengdao.

Li Zhengdao glanced at the newspaper and knew immediately what it was about—no Chinese or Chinese-American at Columbia University was unaware of this rising star in mathematics.

He had sparked nationwide sensation upon his emergence, and with his youthful good looks, he was an absolute sensation within the Chinese community.

“I know him. Too many people want to meet Randolph. These days, whenever I go to his office, he’s polite, but his room is always packed with mathematicians discussing problems too profound for me—I just drink a cup of coffee and leave.”

“I really can’t stay long; if I do, I start doubting my own intelligence.”

“But tomorrow afternoon, I plan to visit him with Editor-in-Chief Huang. Would you care to join?”

“Editor-in-Chief Huang?” Yang Zhenning asked.

Li Zhengdao nodded: “Huang Yunji, editor-in-chief of the American Chinese Daily. He hopes to conduct a face-to-face interview with Randolph.”

“Randolph said, ‘Why wait? Let’s do it tomorrow afternoon.’”

(American Chinese Daily, January 8, 1960 edition)

The American Chinese Daily was somewhat unfamiliar to Lin Ran; he only learned of its significance after using Google.

The newspaper had deep ties to Huaguo; its founding editorial was personally penned by a certain figure, and his famous poem “Qingpingyue: Liupan Mountain” was first published in the American Chinese Daily.

The founder of the American Chinese Daily had already returned to Huaguo to work and would soon become Huaguo’s first Deputy Secretary-General at the United Nations.

After Huaguo and Amerika restored diplomatic relations, the American Chinese Daily fully covered their mutual visits.

This proved its steadfast presence even during the turbulent 1960s and 1970s.

Thus, Lin Ran was eager to meet its editor-in-chief.

“I’m sorry, this scene is so rare—I must take a photo of the three of you.”

After brief pleasantries in Lin Ran’s office, Huang Yunji, editor-in-chief of the American Chinese Daily, pulled out a camera he had prepared in advance: “All three of you are lights of the Chinese people.”

“We’ve already decided tomorrow’s front-page headline: ‘Lights of the Chinese People.’”

“All three of you are unquestionably lights of the Chinese people!”

As the electric pulse ignited the magnesium powder, a flash of intense light swept through Lin Ran’s office, capturing the three men in this precious photograph.

“Please give me your addresses—I’ll deliver the developed photos to you the moment they’re ready,” Huang Yunji said.

Lin Ran thought to himself: “This is clearly the opportunity they’ve been seeking—to be alone with me.”

Taking this precious photo was important, of course—three men together on the front page would draw countless Chinese readers to buy the paper.

But more crucial was probably the private conversation they’d initiate after the photos were developed and delivered to his residence.

“Why wait? Since all three of you are here, why not conduct a joint interview? Even if the entire paper is devoted to you three, I’m sure readers will love it,” Huang Yunji proposed.

Lin Ran said: “I have no objections.”

Lin Ran had no objections; Yang Zhenning and Li Zhengdao had even less—they’d been interviewed endlessly since winning the Nobel.

“Let’s start with Mr. Lin. Could you give us a brief self-introduction?”

That evening, as Lin Ran had anticipated, Huang Yunji arrived with the developed photos.

“Mr. Lin, here are the developed photos—you three look magnificent, true exemplars of the Chinese people,” Huang Yunji gushed, radiating warmth.

Lin Ran stared at the photo in his hand, thinking that if this image were shown in 2020, everyone would assume it was AI-generated.

“Thank you, Editor-in-Chief Huang. Compared to the two of you, I’ve merely done trivial work,” Lin Ran said, feeling he had merely brought Wiles’s results forward to 1960—nothing compared to Li Zhengdao and Yang Zhenning.

“No, no, no—the media all say you’re the undisputed future winner of the Fields Medal at the next mathematics congress, the first Chinese ever to receive it,” Huang Yunji said.

That was true: Fermat’s Last Theorem plus part of the Langlands Program—failing to award him the Fields Medal would be unthinkable.

Lin Ran said: “I’ll take your good wishes.”

After further small talk, Huang Yunji finally revealed his true purpose: “Mr. Lin, what are your thoughts on Huaguo?”

Lin Ran paused, then replied: “Its potential is limitless. I hope the motherland prospers in every way.”

Huang Yunji clearly found this answer unsatisfactory: “Have you considered returning to the motherland to see it for yourself?”

Lin Ran shook his head: “The conditions aren’t ripe yet.”

Huang Yunji dropped the subject, exchanged a few more pleasantries, and left Lin Ran’s residence.

Lin Ran knew he wouldn’t give up so easily—and he had no intention of revealing his true stance yet.

Because historical records on Huang Yunji were scarce; he had no idea whether the man was trustworthy.

Especially since he was about to join NASA—this made it even more sensitive.

Huaguo had repeatedly urged Yang Zhenning to return, making three separate appeals and even arranging for his parents to meet him in Geneva.

For someone like Lin Ran, they certainly wouldn’t let go so easily.

Lin Ran stood by the second-floor window, watching Huang Yunji’s retreating figure, and sighed deeply: “It’s simply not the right time yet.”

The next morning, the latest issue of the American Chinese Daily, featuring Lin Ran, Li Zhengdao, and Yang Zhenning, went on sale—and within three days, sold two hundred thousand copies across Amerika.

At the time, the total number of Chinese households in Amerika was under one hundred thousand, yet the paper sold twice that number.

Many Chinese families bought multiple copies: to encourage their children to study hard, to keep as mementos, and to send to relatives and friends outside Amerika.

The front-page headline read: “Lights of the Chinese People in Amerika”

The front-page headline read: “The Chinese Pride of America”