Chapter 41: Apricot Blossoms, Spring Rain, Jiangnan

On a higher rooftop of Xiangjiang University, the two police officers from earlier had not yet left; Thomas, holding a telescope, continued watching the classroom door where Lin Ran and Chen Jingrun were, sweat constantly dripping from his fat face onto his neck.

The Chinese man beside him was also drenched in sweat:

“Boss, do we really need to be so polite to him? He’s just an American professor—he can’t possibly affect us.”

Thomas, the fat white man, turned and slapped his head: “If you want to die, don’t drag me down with you. Randolph Lin is a professor at Columbia University, and he’s Professor Horkheimer’s final disciple.”

At least one-third of the senators in the upper house can be directly contacted by Horkheimer; in the lower house, it’s at least two-thirds.

He might not help me get things done, but he can definitely ruin me.

I want to get back to London as soon as possible—I don’t want to stay in this hellhole any longer.

Besides, he’s a world-famous mathematician; if he mentions us even once in the media, we won’t be able to handle it.

As your Chinese say: you won’t be able to eat it and still walk away.

Thomas felt quite pleased with himself, thinking: you still have a lot to learn from me.

At this time, Hong Kong’s economy had not yet taken off, so all the white people here wanted to go back—especially senior inspectors like him, who saw London as far superior.

Precisely because of this, Thomas taught the other man with full effort.

On the other hand, Chen Jingrun packed his academic journals and left the classroom; before leaving, he turned to Lin Ran and said: “Professor Lin, thank you.”

Lin Ran waved his hand: “Go ahead.”

After returning home:

“This is a good thing.”

“You’ve effectively cleared your suspicion.”

“Professor Lin really is cautious in his actions.”

“But now the pace is entirely in his hands.”

“That’s not good for us.”

“See if you can find an opportunity to invite him to a coffee shop—our designated coffee shop.”

Section Chief Zhang, on the surface, was talking to Chen Jingrun about applying for a job at the plastic factory, but in reality, he was discussing Chen’s experiences that day.

Section Chief Zhang had taken the alias Chen Ruhai and found work at Lee’s plastic factory; he would later move away and would come back to Chen Jingrun only in emergencies.

On the weekend, at Xiangjiang Radio, Lin Ran appeared for an interview, carrying a music cassette specially recorded for him by Meng Xiaodong.

“Dear listeners, good morning. Welcome to the special interview program on Xiangjiang Radio Station One. I’m announcer Deng Huixin. Now, please welcome our special guest, Professor Randolph Lin.”

Xiangjiang Radio, also known as RTHK, is a public broadcaster founded in the 1930s, a long-established station that currently operates two channels: Channel One primarily in Cantonese, Channel Two primarily in English.

Deng Huixin was a famous Cantonese announcer at Xiangjiang Radio, but she switched to Mandarin for this interview with Lin Ran.

Before the interview, Xiangjiang Broadcasting had already done promotional coverage through newspapers, and this interview would be replayed repeatedly on Xiangjiang Radio.

At this time, most households did not own radios; people listened to broadcasts mostly in teahouses, restaurants, and similar places, which were equipped with public speakers.

“Hello, Ms. Deng,” Lin Ran sat facing Deng Huixin.

“It’s an honor to be the first media outlet in Hong Kong to interview Professor Lin, and thank you for your strong support of Xiangjiang Radio.”

“Professor Lin, let’s begin our interview with Fermat’s Conjecture. I’m sure Hong Kong citizens are very curious: how did you come to choose Fermat’s Conjecture as your starting point?”

Lin Ran said: “In mathematics, we usually keep many problems in progress simultaneously. Fermat’s Conjecture, being so famous, has always sat on my list of problems.”

“So your solution to this problem was really just a coincidence?” Deng Huixin asked.

Lin Ran said: “Yes. At first, I simply thought it might be worth trying. I kept at it for years, and when I finally finished, I verified it several times and found no major flaws, so I held an academic conference.”

“I felt everything went quite smoothly—no real setbacks.”

“You’re too modest. It’s your extraordinary talent in mathematics that enabled you to solve a problem that had puzzled the field for centuries.”

“When you learned your paper had been accepted by the academic community, how did you feel?”

Lin Ran smiled: “I knew I was right. Mathematics isn’t physics—whether others accept it or not doesn’t change its truth.”

“So I didn’t think much of it—I just figured Columbia University should raise my salary.”

Deng Huixin immediately asked: “So, Professor Lin, would you be willing to disclose your current annual salary? Is it true the rumors of a million Hong Kong dollars?”

Lin Ran explained: “Not nearly that much. I’m not clear on exchange rates, but in U.S. dollars, it’s about one hundred thousand.”

Deng Huixin was stunned: “That’s nearly a million Hong Kong dollars! Hong Kong newspapers reported your salary as thirty thousand dollars, but rumors said a million—why such a huge discrepancy?”

Lin Ran didn’t want to discuss this further: “I have other part-time roles; some foundations provide me with academic sponsorship.”

Deng Huixin teased: “Hong Kong women listening to this broadcast should hurry up—golden husbands are rare here.”

She continued:

“Professor Lin, as a giant in mathematics and having taught Hong Kong’s youth for half a month, what are your thoughts? What would you like to say to Hong Kong’s young people?”

Lin Ran replied: “My tutoring class started with fifty students; now only eight remain. That’s already beyond my expectations—those who stuck with it are already many.”

“I want to say: basic science is like tree roots. A tree without roots may bloom and bear fruit, but it will wither. Research is not a romantic adventure—it demands daily confrontation with a dull blackboard.”

“But if you can find beauty in it, mathematical patterns may be more beautiful than a young girl in her prime.”

Deng Huixin sighed: “I hope Hong Kong’s gifted youth will throw themselves into mathematics with equal passion.”

Then she asked: “Just now, Professor Lin, you showed considerable knowledge of Chinese culture, and your Mandarin is extremely standard—even more standard than mine.”

Lin Ran interrupted: “Of course. I’m an American, but culturally, I’m Chinese.”

“So, do you plan to return to China to serve?”

Lin Ran paused for a moment, then said: “When I was in America, Chinese people often asked me the same question.”

“My answer has always been: I am culturally Chinese, but I have no intention of returning to China—I am completely unfamiliar with that land.”

“The imagery of apricot blossoms, spring rain, and the Jiangnan region often lingers in my heart. The rain of ancient China, from legend to the present, has fallen from drizzle to torrent, from eaves to rivers and seas.”

“But I have no intention of going back—I am emotionally unprepared.”