"Is the difficulty of the Song He Manifold getting close to that of the Millennium Prize Problems?"
"Hard to say. I can't understand it at all."
"Who could understand this thing? I can barely understand what Hessy wrote, and that whole pile Jorge wrote is straight-up heavenly scripture!"
"Your level is too poor. If you put in some effort, you can still understand Hessy's. Jorge's really is heavenly scripture."
"I just heard Cotton say he couldn't understand it at all."
"Cotton? Which Cotton?"
"Who else could it be? Cotton, the Fields Medal winner!"
Chu Long quietly listened to the mathematicians chatting at several nearby tables while typing rapidly on his phone to report the news to Song He.
"Jorge's lecture caused a huge sensation. Most people can't understand what Jorge wrote at all—not even Cotton, the Fields Medal winner. Did you watch the lecture? What did you think?"
Chu Long ate two mouthfuls of beef noodles, and a reply came.
Song He: "I took a quick look. Jorge is too lousy; he still has a long way to go. Cotton? He might already have senile dementia. Don't be intimidated by the halo of a Fields Medal. We young people are the ones carrying the flag."
The noodles in Chu Long's mouth nearly sprayed all over the table.
"Stop bragging. Your lecture is tomorrow afternoon, and you still haven't given me your draft!" Chu Long replied. "Hessy and Jorge have already set the bar high, and Professor Deng will probably give an excellent lecture tomorrow afternoon too. If yours is too awful, your reputation will be ruined!"
"Don't rush me. I'm still working on the draft. I've run into a little difficulty," Song He replied.
"You'd better hurry. If you don't get onstage tomorrow, I'll have to take your place!" Chu