When Perelman asked why he was not joining in, Lu Zhou had not told him the whole story.
Aside from genuinely not having the time, another reason was that he intended to leave this opportunity to others.
In fact, by the time Chen Yang was halfway through writing, a complete blueprint had already taken shape in Lu Zhou's mind. When Chen Yang fully laid out his ideas on the whiteboard, Lu Zhou already had a pretty good idea of how to solve the problem.
It was not that he was bragging. Ever since his Mathematics level had risen to LV10, his intuition for mathematics had practically reached an extraordinary, near-divine level.
The most immediate change brought by reaching LV10 was that no matter how abstract or complicated the mathematical logic was, it appeared before him as clearly as black words written on white paper. Problems that could make researchers tear out pounds of hair were as simple as addition, subtraction, multiplication, and division to him.
However, the achievements of one person alone could never bring prosperity to the field of mathematics.
Solving problems was not mathematics' ultimate purpose. Along the path of solving problems, new methods and theories continuously emerged, digging ever deeper into the essence of the universe—a set of laws capable of laying the world bare before one's eyes.
If every problem were solved by him, many people might thank or even worship him, but that might not be a good thing for civilization as a whole.
Everything had its own objective laws of development. Explosive growth could bring tremendous progress in a short period of time, but if such leaps created a generational gap, they might instead cause mathematics to fall into a developmental bottleneck.
That was precisely why Lu Zhou had devoted five whole pages of