The dormitory.
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Song He hunched over his desk, studying hard and trying to derive the Dewitt Conjecture on scratch paper. Every stroke of the pen was difficult, and he scratched his head in frustration.
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The scratch paper was covered in disjointed steps. He had tried every possible direction, yet all of them ended in failure.
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Let M be a manifold, and let a Hamiltonian be a smooth function G on the cotangent bundle T*M. Let G depend on time...
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The nondegeneracy of the symplectic form δ induced a bijection between the vector field D and the differential form Ω...
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To reduce the degrees of freedom of equation R2, the corresponding Hamiltonian equation was further reduced using conserved quantities...
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After grunting and scribbling away for half a day, Song He looked back over it and nearly threw up. What the hell had he even written?
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When he thought about how, for the next several years, he would have to keep pounding at the gates of the Dewitt Conjecture in this agonizing state, chipping away at those massive gates with the spirit of water dripping through stone until they cracked, he suddenly developed a physical aversion to mathematics.
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Trying to brute-force a math problem without any ideas wasn't torture, but it was worse than torture!
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The phone on the desk began vibrating continuously. It was a video call from Xia Wansan.
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Song He was stunned for a moment. Wasn't today not the day of the company's monthly meeting?
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When he answered, the faces of three students immediately appeared on the phone screen. Song He tapped the computer with his phone and moved the video feed onto the large computer monitor.
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"Why the long faces?" Song He noticed that something was