Beside the conference table, the elderly professor with gray hair picked up his paper again.
He turned to page 17, stared at the lemma for a full five minutes, then put down the paper, took off his glasses, and rubbed his temples.
"I still have reservations," he said. "The way this lemma is handled is different from Bombieri's. He used a different formulation, one I haven't seen before."
The middle-aged man next to me, who was wearing glasses, pushed up his glasses:
"Rephrasing it doesn't mean it's wrong. Even if you let Bombieri see it himself, he might not say there's a problem."
"Then let the external reviewers see it." The old professor pushed the paper onto the table, his tone firm. "I don't deny the result, but I don't accept this proof. If the external reviewers approve it, I have no objection."
The editor-in-chief sat at one end of the long table, having remained silent until now. He spoke, his tone flat.
"Everyone, you all know the results of this paper."
He glanced around at everyone present.
" The Integer-Coefficient Polynomial Root Distribution Conjectures was proposed in 1965, and no one has provided a complete proof for sixty years. Now, a nineteen-year-old undergraduate student has presented us with a proof, which has passed three internal verifications. The lemma on page 17 is controversial, but the controversy lies in the way it is stated, not in its correctness."
He paused for a moment.
"My suggestion is to send it for external peer review. If the external reviewers approve, proceed to the next round. If they disapprove, return it for further discussion."
The meeting room fell silent for a moment.
The old professor didn't say anything more.
He put the paper into his briefcase, stood up, pushed open the door, and left.
The middle-aged man with glasses breathed a sigh of relief and nodded to the editor-in-chief.
"I agree. Send it for external peer review."
The meeting has adjourned.
The editor-in-chief returned to his office, sat in front of his computer, and opened the submission system.
He pulled up Cheng Che's author information and glanced at it again.
Nineteen years old. Peking University. First author of the paper, with Professor Liu as the corresponding author.
He thought for a moment and wrote a line in the reviewer's comments section, "Send to external reviewer. Prioritize processing."
Then he pressed the confirm button.
The external peer review process typically takes two to three weeks.
If all goes well, we can receive the first round of feedback within a week.
The editor-in-chief leaned back in his chair, looking at the title of the paper on the screen, and suddenly remembered something.
He scrolled through the author information and saw Cheng Che's other identity.
Tennis player.
He paused for a moment, then smiled.
"Interesting," he muttered to himself.
Meanwhile, in Melbourne...
Cheng Che was fast asleep.
He was unaware of the controversy within the editorial board of the Annals of Mathematics, unaware that the old professor had reservations about his evidence, and unaware that the editor-in-chief had already decided to send it for external peer review.
What he didn't know was that his two props and titles were working.
[ Green Lights All the Way Certificate: Automatically obtains the "optimal path" for any transaction you initiate that requires external cooperation.]
This tool marked his submission as "priority" in the system, causing the editor-in-chief to subconsciously choose to approve it when he was hesitant about sending it for external peer review.
He didn't use any connections or make any special requests, but things still went smoothly.
[ Zhuangyuan: You have a chance to be favored by a benefactor. Current activation status: In effect.]
The function of this title is more subtle.
It didn't directly change anyone's judgment, but it made everyone who handled his paper take a second look, think a little more, and give it a little more patience.
This patience is key to whether a controversial paper can advance to the next round.
Cheng Che was unaware of these things.
He was sleeping soundly.
The next morning, Cheng Che woke up from his sleep.
The Melbourne sunlight streamed through the gaps in the curtains, drawing a bright line on the carpet.
He rolled over and glanced at his phone. Seven o'clock in the morning, local time.
After washing up and changing into a short-sleeved shirt, he walked out of the room. Qin Lie and Chen Wei were already in the restaurant downstairs.
Qin Lie held a cup of coffee, his complexion slightly better than yesterday.
Chen Wei was eating fruit when she saw Cheng Che come down and waved to him.
After breakfast, the group, led by Wilson staff, went to see the venue.
Melbourne Park is in the city center, not far from the hotel.
Several stadiums are connected together; the main stadium has a retractable roof, and there are also many outdoor fields.
The staff gave them a tour, showing them the exact locations of the player tunnel, training field, locker rooms, and media area.
"The official competition starts next Monday," the staff member said. "You can use these few days to familiarize yourself with the venue and get used to the weather. It's quite hot in Melbourne these days; the ground temperature can reach over 40 degrees Celsius at midday, so remember to stay hydrated during the competition."
Cheng Che nodded.
The staff member added, "By the way, there are quite a few pickpockets in Melbourne's city center, so please be careful when you go out. Don't leave your phones and wallets out in the open."
Qin Lie frowned upon hearing this and turned to look at Cheng Che.
Cheng Che smiled.
He had seen quite a few news articles about this online.
News headlines like "Rampant Pickpocketing in Melbourne's CBD," "Tourists' Phones Stolen," and "Backpacks Vanished After Being Left on Cafe Chairs" have been circulating online.
He thought it was quite exaggerated at the time, but now that he's heard it from the locals themselves, it seems to be true.
"I understand," he said. "I'll be careful."
In the afternoon, Cheng Che, Qin Lie, and Chen Wei went to the commercial street in downtown Melbourne.
Cheng Che, wearing a mask and hat, walked among the crowd without attracting much attention.
Melbourne is a diverse city with many Asia faces, so he didn't stand out much among them.
They walked along Swanston Street for a while, passing a large bookstore.
Cheng Che stopped and went inside for a look around.
The math section in the bookstore wasn't large, but he still flipped through a few books and finally bought an English textbook on algebraic geometry.
Qin Lie's expression was complicated as he watched him pick up the book.
"Can't you watch something else?"
"This one's pretty good." Cheng Che tucked the book under his arm and continued walking out.
They walked a little further and then turned into Hosier Lane.
It was a very narrow alley, with graffiti on both sides, the colors were intense, layered and overlapping, painted from the ground all the way to the top of the wall.
There were many tourists; some were taking photos, some were taking selfies, and some were posing in front of the graffiti.
Cheng Che stood at the alley entrance and watched for a while.
The graffiti wall features deep blue swirls, orange flames, a giant colorful bird, and a dense collection of letters spelling out a word he doesn't recognize.
Sunlight streamed in from the alley entrance, making the colors on the walls appear vibrant.
He took out his phone and snapped a picture.
Then he turned around and saw Chen Wei standing in front of a graffiti wall, looking at him somewhat reservedly.
"Take pictures if you want," he said.
Upon hearing this, Chen Wei immediately took out her phone and stood in front of the wall.
Qin Lie sighed beside her, but still took her phone and helped her take two photos.
The three men walked out of Hosier Lane and turned into the adjacent Federation Square.
There were many people in the square; some were sitting on the steps eating lunch, some were chatting, and some were sunbathing.
Cheng Che found a bench at the edge of the square, sat down, and took out the book he had just bought, flipping through a couple of pages.
Unbeknownst to him, several passengers were watching him with excitement.
Meanwhile, on the other side of the world, in the peer review system of the Annals of Mathematics, his paper had just been assigned to its first external reviewer.
The reviewer opened the paper, saw the title, the author information, and the note "19 years old, Peking University undergraduate."
He paused for a moment, stunned.
Then he began to read.