Saint Petersburg First National Hospital.
On a spotless white hospital bed lay a haggard young woman. Her beautiful golden hair had lost its former luster and was even beginning to lose its original color.
Yet her beautiful sleeping face was peaceful.
Seated beside the bed, Lu Zhou held a thick book bound in leather. As though reading a bedtime story, he read softly in a steady voice.
"Although the eight-page paper he sent from the small town of Breslenz in the Kingdom of Hanover to the Berlin Academy of Sciences completely changed Mathematics for the next century and a half, the God he believed in did not grant him eternal life for it."
"Much like the ill-fated Abel, this great mathematician lived only a brief thirty-nine years, ten months, and three days before passing away in a lakeside town in Italy on July 20, 1866."
"According to his close friend Dedekind, even on the day before his death, he was still seated beneath a fruit tree, continuing his unfinished exploration. In his memoir, Dedekind wrote—"
"When that final moment came, he did not struggle in the slightest or suffer any deathbed convulsions. Instead, he seemed to be watching with great interest as his soul separated from his body. His wife brought him bread and wine. He asked her to convey his regards to the family and told her, 'Kiss our children.' She recited prayers for him, while he himself could no longer speak. When she read the words 'forgive us our sins,' his eyes gazed devoutly toward the sky. She felt his hand gradually growing cold. After several breaths, his pure and noble heart stopped beating..."
"For geniuses capable of seeing an extraordinary world, the universe was never kind."
"Weil spent nearly the entire second half of his life suffering