111: Chapter 111 Top Scorer in the College Entrance Examination

June 24th.

The day before the Gaokao scores were released.

According to official notices, the score check portal wouldn't officially open until 10:00 AM the next day.

But certain news never quietly waits for that moment.

Especially when a score is so ridiculously high that it falls at the absolute extreme end of the curve—so high that the Provincial Education Examination Authority had to re-verify the test papers multiple times, confirm the student's identity, and initiate advance notice protocols for the corresponding high school—it was no longer just a static set of grades.

It turns into phone calls.

Turns into official talking points.

Turns into the air in the Academic Affairs Office that suddenly fell dead silent from extreme shock.

Turns into an absolute reason for the admissions offices of several top universities, who were previously waiting and weighing their options, to immediately book plane tickets.

That afternoon, the weather in Jiangcheng was sweltering like a pressure cooker.

Jiang Lin was sitting in his bedroom, preparing the supply list for his ninth trip to the Wasteland.

His phone rang.

It was Old Liu.

Jiang Lin picked up.

There was no immediate answer from the other end of the line.

Only heavy breathing.

Old Liu sounded like he had just run all the way from somewhere, or as if he was clutching a piece of paper that he had already read a dozen times but still couldn't believe his eyes.

"Jiang Lin."

His voice was kept extremely low, as if making it slightly louder would shatter that incredible number like an illusion.

"It's out."

He tried his best to maintain the composure of a homeroom teacher, but he couldn't suppress the tremor in his vocal cords at all.

Jiang Lin asked in surprise, "Isn't the official portal opening tomorrow?"

"Not the score check portal, but the internal network for city-level score verification." Old Liu swallowed hard. "Because your score is too outrageous, the provincial authorities were worried about chaos, so they leaked the news to the school first so we could mentally prepare ourselves."

Saying this, he paused for a full five seconds.

He wasn't keeping him in suspense.

Rather, as a veteran teacher who had been teaching for decades, he needed to mull over and rearrange those numbers representing the pinnacle of Chinese exam-oriented education in his mind to ensure he wasn't dreaming or reading them wrong.

"Chinese Language, 149."

"Mathematics, 150."

"English, 150."

"Physics, 100."

"Chemistry, 100."

"Biology, 100."

On the other end of the phone, with every number Old Liu read out, his breathing grew heavier.

By the time he reached the end, his voice was so hoarse he was choking back tears.

As if afraid of misreading, he checked the numbers on the paper once more.

"Total score: 749."

"Physics track, first place in the entire province. No, this score might be unique across the whole country."

Hearing this, Jiang Lin didn't show any wild joy.

His brain was like a precisely functioning processor, quickly categorizing and logically validating the data.

"One point deducted on the essay?"

The intense excitement and trembling that Old Liu felt were almost choked to death on the spot by Jiang Lin's casual remark.

"Jiang Lin."

Old Liu took a deep breath, feeling his blood pressure surging.

"749, number one in the whole province, and your immediate reaction is asking if a point was deducted from your essay?!"

"Just confirming the accuracy of the data."

Old Liu was silent for a long moment before finally letting out a long sigh, his tone filled with helplessness and deep admiration.

"Only you could talk about being number one in the province as if checking systematic instrument error in a laboratory."

Checking experimental error.

Old Liu hit the nail on the head.

Mathematics, Physics, Chemistry, Biology—for these subjects with clear boundaries, stable scoring, and answers locked tight by rules, Jiang Lin had left no flaws for the grading system to catch.

A perfect score was achieved simply because that was the maximum score of the paper.

The only point deducted was in Chinese.

It was lost on an essay that required subjective human emotion to evaluate.

This was definitely not a gap in knowledge reserves.

Nor was it a lack of reading experience.

In those endless years in the Wasteland where time seemed to lose its measure, the books he had read far exceeded the accumulated knowledge of a veteran scholar.

Classical texts, history books, novels, essays, philosophy, popular science, biographies.

Some books were for learning industrial technology.

Some books were to remember how human civilization once spoke and thought.

And some books were purely to uphold his mental structure in a world without a single other living person, preventing himself from going insane in absolute solitude.

Thinking about it, that single lost point was merely the final bit of human friction that a system like the Gaokao could impose on a soul who had read too many books and relied on written words to maintain mental order through prolonged solitude.

"The school can't make it public yet since the official portal isn't open. The unified external statement will have to wait until tomorrow morning," Old Liu instructed, his voice unable to hide his pride.

"Teacher, thank you for your hard work."

"Hard work nothing, you earned it all yourself," Old Liu said softly with a chuckle. "For us teachers, being able to ride the coattails of a student like you is enough to brag about for half a lifetime in the education system."

After hanging up, quietness restored to the room.

But the silence lasted for less than a minute.

The phones in No. 7 High School's administration building had already begun ringing incessantly.

One line in the Principal's office.

One line in the Academic Affairs Office.

One line in the Grade Level Office.

The Education Bureau called first, instructing the school not to publicly release specific scores unconfirmed by the portal for the time being, but to immediately prepare media reception plans, student safety contingency plans, and parent communication guidelines.

Provincial officials needed to re-verify Jiang Lin's ID number, exam admission ticket number, examinee category, and subject combination.

The city authorities asked the school whether Jiang Lin was currently home and if the local police station needed to dispatch a police car in advance to maintain order at his residential compound, preventing intense swarming events.

On the other side, in an office in Building B of the Physics Department at Jiangcheng University, Professor Lu Zhixing was reading literature when he was interrupted by a phone call from Professor Gu Nanzhou.

"749."

"Doesn't that make him the top scholar?"

"149 in Chinese, perfect scores in all the rest."

Professor Lu Zhixing was silent for a moment before suddenly letting out a laugh.

"So he's made up for that final entry ticket after all."

"The admissions offices of Tsinghua and Peking University must be squirming in their seats right now."

"Weren't they already squirming half a month ago when they saw the Jiangs Brick?"

"Back then, they could still use waiting for the Gaokao to finish and going through normal procedures as an excuse. Now, the Gaokao results are out, the procedures are complete, and they were completed with total dominance."

After saying this, both men on the phone knew it all too well.

Jiang Lin didn't need the Gaokao to prove himself at all.

But the Real World required this process.

The Jiangs Brick introduced him to the international mathematics community.

The Alibaba preliminary contest, MPS, and initial collaboration with the School of Computer Science made people in technical circles realize he wasn't limited to just mathematics.

However, within China's current educational system and social perception, the Gaokao remains the simplest, most straightforward, and most widely understood pass for both the general public and administrative systems.

Without this pass, Jiang Lin would face countless procedural compliance issues when mobilizing resources within the system.

And now, this pass was stamped with an almost flawless steel seal.

The number 749 wouldn't make Jiang Lin any smarter.

But it would deprive everyone who previously wanted to wait and see—treating him as a special high school student case—of their final excuse.

The news leaked faster than anyone had anticipated.

By evening, the news that Jiangcheng produced the number one physical science student in the whole province was no longer just a secret rumor leaked from some Municipal Education Bureau channel.

Flowing through parent chat groups, alumni networks, and local media accounts, it transformed into a wildfire sweeping through the digital era.

On this land, no word is older than "Zhuangyuan" (Top Scholar), and no word carries more fervor.

Burning down through the golden lists from over a thousand years ago, it blazed through the imperial examination system, through the ancestral halls and family honor of generations of Chinese people, down to this very day, becoming the sole, singular name among hundreds of thousands of examinees in a province.

It meant that the crowd of telephoto lenses, microphones, and cameras downstairs—which had just quieted down a few days ago because of the Jiangs Brick—came pouring back in a massive swarm, and this time, their numbers had tripled.

It meant a red-and-gold banner over ten meters long that No. 7 High School rushed to order overnight from an advertising company for its front gate.

It meant that whenever Zhang Xiufen walked into Jujia Supermarket, she would be surrounded three layers deep by all her colleagues, supervisors, and grocery shoppers, showered with continuous congratulations.

It meant that when Jiang Jianguo was sorting cutlassfish in the seafood market late at night, the foreman and fellow workers would line up to pat his shoulder, hand him fine cigarettes, and exclaim, "Old Jiang, your ancestral grave isn't just emitting green smoke, it's spurting fire!"

This was a number capable of lifting an ordinary working-class family straight into the clouds.

Evening.

Quite a few uninvited guests rushed to the entrance of the residential compound.

Covered in sweat, several community staff members shouted through megaphones while directing security guards to set up caution tape, stopping self-media bloggers attempting to disguise themselves as delivery riders to rush upstairs.

Zhang Xiufen stuck her head out of the kitchen, looking at the suddenly increased silhouettes outside the window, and couldn't help sighing.

"How come they're here again?"

Standing by the balcony, Jiang Jianguo saw several reporters carrying cameras looking up at their floor, and saw people downstairs pointing their phones to film toward their apartment windows.

He couldn't help stepping back and pulling the curtains in a bit.

Almost at the exact same moment, Professor Gu Nanzhou forwarded a bundle of three strictly filtered emails he had just received to Jiang Lin.

The forward note contained a line of text:

[They are treating you as a peer now.]

Jiang Lin read through them one by one.

The first email was from Princeton's Department of Mathematics.

The sender was a professor specializing in discrete geometry and dynamical systems.

The email mentioned that one of their advanced seminars had already held two consecutive workshops.

Using the preprint of the Jiangs Brick and verification results from various independent mathematics teams as a foundation, they subjected it to repeated deconstruction.

But what truly stopped these brilliant minds in their tracks for repeated discussion was not the tile itself that achieved aperiodic tiling.

Rather, it was the underlying architectural capability Jiang Lin displayed in the proof process.

How he seamlessly welded local forcing, substitution hierarchy, and finite-state verification into a human-readable proof chain.

There was a very direct line in the middle of the email.

We would be glad to have you give a seminar on the proof architecture itself — in particular， how local forcing and finite-state verification were made to carry a human-readable proof.

(We would be glad to invite you to hold a seminar on the proof architecture itself—in particular, how local forcing and finite-state verification were used to support a human-readable proof.)

If it was just this sentence, it would still seem like a standard, high-level academic invitation.

But the following paragraph made Jiang Lin's fingers pause on the mouse for a few seconds.

We would also be interested in continuing the discussion after the seminar， should you be willing. Several of us believe that the architecture of your proof may be useful beyond the monotile problem itself， and we would like to understand which parts of it are accidental， and which parts may be turned into a reusable method.

(If you are willing, we are also interested in continuing discussions after the seminar. Several among us believe that the architecture of your proof may be of great use beyond the monotile problem itself, and we would like to figure out which parts are accidental and which parts can be converted into a reusable, universal method.)

Princeton saw not only the conclusion, but more importantly, the tool that Jiang Lin had forged.

[part:gemini-3.5-flash-lite]

They wanted to strip away this set of tools to attack other more ancient mathematical fortresses.

The second one came from the Department of Mathematics at Cambridge University.

The tone of this letter felt more like a secret dispatch handed down from an ancient medieval academic community.

It barely mentioned the brilliance of Jiang's Brick; the entire letter discussed nothing but that unknown Wasteland that naturally grew after this brick landed.

Non-periodic order, minimum complexity, and that vague physical and mathematical boundary between order and disorder.

Using extremely rigorous academic language, the letter listed a string of derivative problems that no one in the current mathematical community could yet solve, as if discussing the next step's tactics with a long-time old friend.

Then, the other party asked him.

"Among these directions, which do you believe contains the central obstruction?"

(Among these directions, which do you believe contains the central obstruction?)

If it had stopped there, it would still resemble a polite, high-level academic exchange.

But the end of the letter became somewhat ambiguous.

"If you have a view on this, we would be interested in arranging a small working discussion around it, not as a presentation of a finished result, but as a way to identify what the next serious problem should be."

(If you have a view on this, we would be interested in arranging a small working discussion around it, not as a presentation of a finished result, but as a way to identify what the next serious problem should be.)

The third one came from the École Normale Supérieure in Paris.

This was the holy land of the Bourbaki school, the temple of pure mathematics.

With a nearly harsh calmness, this letter stated that in Jiang Lin's proof chain, the separation of combinatorics, structural topology, and computer verification was shockingly clear—an extremely rare mathematical intuition full of French aesthetic sense.

Then came a passage that Jiang Lin read twice.

"We are aware that you have not yet entered any university. In mathematics, this is not the question by which serious work is judged. Should you wish, at any point, to work in a serious mathematical environment, the door is open."

(We are aware that you have not yet entered any university, but in mathematics, this has never been an important issue. Should you wish, at any point, to work in a serious mathematical environment, our doors are always open to you.)

Jiang Lin's finger hovered over the trackpad, and for a long time, he didn't scroll down.

Princeton was asking about the proof architecture; they wanted his weapon.

Cambridge was asking about the next true obstruction; they wanted his vision.

The École Normale Supérieure in Paris was even more direct, completely ignoring all academic credential rules on Earth, and asking him if he was willing to go there for pure mathematics research, even though his current official status was merely a high school graduate.

Professor Gu Nanzhou's message popped up right on time in the lower right corner of the screen.

[If you have no intention of going abroad, I will compile these three emails into an academic liaison summary stripped of polite pleasantries and forward it to the admissions groups of both Tsinghua University and Peking University.]

Jiang Lin replied with an eight-character expression of gratitude and closed his mailbox.

Just past six in the evening, a knock sounded in the hallway.

This time, the people from Peking University and Tsinghua University arrived almost back-to-back.

Perhaps having run into each other last time in that office at Jiangda University, they both knew it well: in front of a target of Jiang Lin's caliber, any information gap did not exist, and neither could shake off the other.

Therefore, this time, the two groups simply abandoned the so-called time-difference tactic and walked into the Jiang family home together.

It was still those two familiar faces from last time.

A professor in his forties from the Department of Mathematics at Peking University.

A person in charge of the Yau Shing-Tung Mathematics Leadership Program at Tsinghua University.

In addition, Tsinghua University clearly did their homework thoroughly this time, bringing along an extra teacher with a reserved temperament.

This teacher did not give a lengthy self-introduction, but simply handed over a simple business card with both hands.

The business card only had a few very pragmatic words printed on it.

Tsinghua University, Undergraduate Interdisciplinary Programs Office.

Zhang Xiufen flurriedly moved stools over, continuously apologizing that the house was small, seating was cramped, and hospitality was lacking.

Jiang Jianguo didn't say much, simply silently sweeping the television remote control, a few boxes of antihypertensive drugs, and an unopened bag of Drunkard peanuts from the coffee table into the drawer, trying his best to clear up some space for the guests to place their documents.

Then he turned and went to the kitchen, washing several glass cups over and over with dish soap, scalding them repeatedly with boiling water, and brewing the family's best tea leaves.

The old fabric sofa simply couldn't seat four people.

The professor from Peking University didn't sit on the sofa, instead choosing a low plastic stool that Zhang Xiufen brought out to sit on.

He was very tall, and his knees almost touched the edge of the coffee table, making his posture appear somewhat constrained.

The person in charge of the Leadership Program from Tsinghua University sat on the sofa against the wall, holding a thin blue folder in hand.

The room was very small.

Overhead was a somewhat dim ceiling lamp, and in the corner stood a humming floor fan.

Yet sitting in this tiny living room at this moment was the highest level of sincerity and negotiation specifications that China's highest institutions of learning could offer for a high school senior who had just turned eighteen.

After taking their seats, none of the three teachers rushed to throw out conventional admissions chips like full scholarships or arbitrary major selection.

Because in the half hour before coming, they had all successively received on their phones that suffocatingly brief summary forwarded by Professor Gu Nanzhou.

Princeton, Cambridge, École Normale Supérieure in Paris.

When these three names appeared simultaneously and issued academic invitations of that caliber, what did it mean?

It meant that the top circle of the international mathematical community had already placed Jiang Lin on the position of a peer to discuss problems.

If they were still coming around tonight to talk terms revolving around the title of Gaokao top scorer with 749 points, it would be too obtuse and too insulting.

Furthermore, last time in the office at Jiangda University, Jiang Lin's sentence "I still need to figure out clearly what I want to do next" had also been kept in their minds all along.

Now, the Gaokao was over, the scores were out, and that buffer excuse used for evasion no longer existed.

The score of 749 itself was already terrifying enough that no admissions teacher needed to evaluate it anymore.

It simply impeccably filled in the final layer of Real World procedures on Jiang Lin.

But tonight, what truly weighed upon this cramped living room was precisely not this score.

The professor from Peking University crossed his hands on his knees, pondered for a moment, and broke the silence first.

"Student Jiang Lin, within the domestic undergraduate admissions system, the final process capable of publicly measuring you has also been pushed to its limit by you."

Saying this, he paused slightly, his gaze sweeping across Jiang Lin's calm face.

"So tonight, we will not talk about the top scorer. To talk about the top scorer is a devaluation of the work you have done."

Zhang Xiufen, who was standing to the side pouring tea, felt her heart jump fiercely, and the kettle in her hand shook slightly.

Having lived for nearly fifty years, it was the first time she had heard someone talk about the Gaokao like this.

In the mouths of the people around her, the Gaokao was a major event in life, a carp leaping through the dragon gate, and bringing glory to one's ancestors.

Yet in the mouth of the Peking University professor before her, it was merely a process.

But when these words came out of the other party's mouth, she felt they were frighteningly heavy, vaguely sensing that her son had walked into a world she completely failed to understand.

The living room was extremely quiet for a moment.

Zhang Xiufen couldn't help turning her head to glance at her son sitting on the side.

Jiang Lin's expression remained unchanged as he listened quietly.

The Peking University professor took out a piece of paper from the briefcase he carried with him.

That was not some exquisitely printed admissions promotional brochure, nor was it some scholarship plan filled with monetary amounts.

Rather, it was a few lines of research directions he had handwritten with a fountain pen on the way here.

Non-periodic tiling.

Local forcing.

Symbolic dynamical systems.

Quasicrystals and discrete geometry.

Minimum complexity in combinatorial structures.

The professor gently pushed this piece of paper to the center of the coffee table.

"The most astonishing part of Jiang's Brick is not just the brick itself, but how you connected local rules, substitution hierarchies, finite verification, and human-readable proofs into a logically closed-loop chain. What they value is your architectural capability."

"It is also completely normal for Cambridge to ask where your next true obstruction is hidden."

"Because in the history of mathematics, after a great problem is solved, what is truly important is never popping champagne to celebrate, but determining which door it has ultimately opened leading deeper within."

"The École Normale Supérieure in Paris says that educational background is not the criterion for judging serious work, and I completely agree."

The professor stared at Jiang Lin, his eyes burning with intensity.

"You are already qualified to continue standing at the forefront of pure mathematics problems. But Jiang Lin, the mathematical community acknowledging you is one thing. Where you continue to grow next and what kind of environment you rely on to maintain your sharpness is another matter."

He gently tapped those lines of handwritten words on the paper with his fingertips.

"If you come to Peking University, what we most hope you can preserve is that sharp sense of going straight from problem to structure."

The professor's voice gradually carried an eager sincerity.

"These directions are not the aftermath of Jiang's Brick; they may be your main battlefield for the next ten or twenty years. What Peking University can give you is not just courses and mentors, but a pure mathematics environment that is sufficiently dense."

"An environment where the moment a thought pops into your head, even while eating in the cafeteria, someone can immediately counter-question you, challenge you, and deduce your ideas from the different perspectives of discrete geometry, dynamical systems, abstract algebra, and mathematical Physics."

Not a single word spoken by the Peking University professor was filled with exaggerated flattery, nor was there a single cliché of welcoming you here.

Yet precisely because of this unreserved academic dissection, these words carried far more weight than any admissions promotion.

He was sketching out for Jiang Lin the most orthodox path, one most likely to touch the limits of human intelligence.

An extremely sharp, extremely clean, and extremely alluring path of purity.

Starting from Jiang's Brick, casting aside all worldly distractions, and continuing to plunge into the bottomless abyss of pure mathematics.

Jiang Lin knew deeply the weight of this path.

In that email from Princeton, what was truly valuable was not any seminar at all.

Cambridge's sentence about the central obstruction was by no means ordinary pleasantries.

They had indeed laid out an uncultivated mathematical continent before him.

If he continued along this path pointed out by Peking University, with his computational power and experience, he might forge a second, a third, or even theoretical cornerstones that would trigger an earthquake in the mathematical community between non-periodic tiling, symbolic dynamical systems, and combinatorial structures.

The Peking University professor looked into Jiang Lin's calm eyes, his tone suddenly slowing down.

"But as a scholar, I must also state the risks upfront. Jiang Lin, the most dangerous predicament you are facing right now is not a lack of resources given to you."

"On the contrary, it is that all resources and all halos will frantically surge toward you."

"Every line in mathematics is not shallow water. No matter how high your talent is, if your energy is excessively dispersed, it will be ruthlessly worn down by the complexity of the massive system. Purity is what you need to protect most right now."

Zhang Xiufen listened somewhat dazedly.

Could having too many opportunities and too good resources actually backfire?

The Peking University professor did not speak with absolute certainty: "I am not saying you cannot do it, I just want to confirm that you know the price of this choice."

This sentence fell like a heavy hammer, and the living room plunged into a brief silence.

The person in charge of the Yau Shing-Tung Mathematics Leadership Program at Tsinghua University did not reply immediately.

Because he knew very well that what the professor next door had just said was not just polite rhetoric to poach talent.

This was the most sincere warning handed by an old-school scholar who had spent his life doing pure mathematics research to a shocking genius who had just stood before the door of truth.

It even reached the point of sharing deep words despite a shallow acquaintance.

Jiang Lin knew the other person was right.

In the Real World, there are systems, qualification access, paper publication cycles, project approval mechanisms, cross-domain collaboration boundaries, strict laboratory safety codes, fund allocations, interpersonal networks, and public choices that cannot be reversed once made.

A person's brain can span disciplines infinitely and deduce the operation of a nuclear reactor in their mind, but a person's real identity cannot be infinitely torn apart.

Every time you tear open a cross-border line, there will be a complex Real World clue that you need to maintain.

After a long while, the admissions officer from Tsinghua University finally opened the folder in his hand.

"We agree with the risks mentioned by the Peking University professor."

He did not refute the competitor like in a conventional negotiation, but after saying this sentence, his tone shifted.

"Therefore, when we came today, we were not prepared to make empty promises like saying you come to Tsinghua and you can do whatever you want."

He took out a bound document from the folder and solemnly placed it on the coffee table.

The title on the first page used an extremely standardized official document format.

"Preliminary Plan for Cross-Training Undergraduate Students of Jiang Lin (Draft)"

Jiang Lin looked down; this was not any training plan at all, it was simply an extremely complex engineering architecture diagram.

There were several strict paths marked as different modules on it.

Module A: Basic Mathematics Mainline (Docking with the core courses and mentor group of the Shing-Tung Yau Mathematics Center)

Module B: Computer and Algorithm Tool Chain (Docking with the Institute for Interdisciplinary Information Sciences, solving high-concurrency computing power and formal verification)

Module C: Precision Instruments and Physical Measurement Chain (Docking with the Department of Precision Instrument and the Department of Physics, solving error elimination of theoretical models in the physical world)

Module D: Engineering Physics and Space Environment Direction (High-energy Physics and material/system verification under extreme environments)

Module E: Engineering Training and Safety Access Process (Special-approved laboratory safety red lines and access qualification assessments)

Module F: Inter-Departmental Coordination Mechanism Within the School (Led by the Undergraduate Training Office, submitting to school-level thematic coordination when necessary)

Module G: Filing Recommendations for Existing External Cooperative Relations (Targeting Jiangda University scientific research training and MPS related cooperation, clarifying intellectual property, confidentiality, and security boundaries)

This was not a class schedule.

Behind each item, what followed was not the four lightweight words "any choice".

Instead, it was specific contacts, prerequisite assessment conditions, administrative approval nodes, potential risk descriptions, and strict phased delivery targets.

The teacher from Tsinghua University's Cross-Training Office also spoke at the right time: "In the Real World, academic qualifications are indeed not the standard to judge whether a person can do great work. But it is your only legal starting point to enter national-level laboratories, apply for major projects, use tens-millions-level equipment platforms, build industrial cooperation networks, and pass various security reviews."

"What Tsinghua can give you is not helping you bypass the rules. No one can bypass the rules forever. What Tsinghua can give you is to fully lay out the rules for you."

The teacher in charge of admissions pushed the plan a little closer to Jiang Lin.

"We cannot promise to let you bypass the laboratory's safety red lines, cannot promise to exempt you from the project initiation approval of major projects, and cannot promise that if you suddenly think of entering a certain platform today, all the metal doors will automatically open for you tomorrow. That violates the laws of science and engineering."

"But we can promise to write down clearly in black and white in advance which doors can be walked through, how to walk the fastest, who is responsible for signing for you, and where the risks are."

Saying this, he took a deep look at Jiang Lin.

"Your Three-Plate Grinding Method previously at Jiangda University demonstrated your understanding of the engineering foundation."

"Jiangs Brick demonstrated your ultimate creativity in abstract structures."

"Your negotiations with MPS are the application of computational search and formal verification."

"The work you and Professor Lu Zhixing are conducting over at Jiangda University, although confidential, we evaluate that it involves measurement chains, error sources, and complex physical models."

"Not only that, we have also learned some side information from Jiangda University about your strong interest in space Physics and the underlying architecture of large-scale engineering systems."

When hearing words like space Physics and engineering systems, the Peking University professor's originally calm brow moved slightly.

He keenly perceived the ambition of Tsinghua University's plan, but still maintained a scholar's demeanor without interrupting.

The person in charge of Tsinghua University continued resolutely: "If you choose Tsinghua University, the main line of basic mathematics will not only not be broken, but will also receive world-class support."

"But besides that, you will have a formal path recognized at the highest level to access core courses and heavy equipment platforms related to computers, automation, precision instruments, engineering Physics, and even aerospace."

"For you, Jiang Lin, your future should not just be proving a century-old problem on the blackboard." The person in charge's tone revealed a hint of certainty, "You are going to build a system capable of solving complex Real World problems, and we are willing to use Tsinghua University's engineering foundation to build a long-term expandable system interface for you."

The living room fell into a long silence again.

Zhang Xiufen stared blankly at the document on the coffee table.

She couldn't understand any of the modules on it.

She didn't understand what a measurement chain was, what engineering Physics was, and even less understood what a suggestion for retaining external cooperative relationships was.

She only knew that her son's life seemed to suddenly change at this moment from an ordinary Gaokao application form into a grand national-level engineering drawing.

Jiang Jianguo's fingers gently pressed on his knees.

He didn't understand either.

But he could see that what Tsinghua University brought out was not pie-in-the-sky deception to fool people.

Every stroke on it landed very solidly.

So solid that behind every commitment, there were restrictions.

This instead made a man who had struggled at the bottom all his life feel a sense of reassurance in his heart.

Contracts that do not deceive people usually put the ugly words upfront.

Jiang Lin, who had been listening quietly, raised his head and looked at the Peking University professor first.

"Teacher, I know the price you mentioned."

The Peking University professor did not speak, quietly waiting for the predictable next sentence.

Jiang Lin continued: "Therefore, I do not want to whitewash my choice as having broad interests, nor do I want to call it comprehensive development in quality education."

"Mathematics is very beautiful, and Jiangs Brick is also very important to me personally. It is the first time I used my own method to establish a connection with the deep structure of this world."

"If I only replied to that email from Princeton and only cared about proving the architecture, then Peking University would undoubtedly be one of the best answers in the world."

"If I only continued to dig down along the virgin land of core obstacles spread out by Cambridge, Peking University would still be one of the best answers."

"Even Paris École Normale Supérieure's arrogant sentence 'mathematics doesn't ask for ID cards' is something I really like."

He paused for a moment, his gaze seeming to pierce through this cramped living room, looking toward a more distant and grander physical reality.

"Peking University is very good. If I only walk down along Jiangs Brick, Peking University is very likely the best place."

The Peking University professor nodded slightly.

Jiang Lin looked at the Peking University professor and said very seriously: "Every step of the problems I will face subsequently indeed cannot be separated from the support of mathematics. But what I need is not just to prove a certain proposition on a scratchpad."

"I need to know how a perfect mathematical model can be accurately verified by a set of measurement chains after entering the Real World?"

"During the verification process, how is it polluted by the systematic errors of physical instruments?"

"How are these polluted data corrected and reproduced by the computing system?"

"How are the reproduced results borne by grand engineering structures?"

"And ultimately, how can all of this be effectively amplified by massive organizational processes?"

Speaking of this, Jiang Lin turned his head to look at the person in charge from Tsinghua University.

"What I need now is not a palace of pure mathematics, but a brick kiln."

As soon as these words fell, everyone in the room went quiet for a moment.

Brick kiln.

This word was too crude.

But at this moment, it was more accurate than any platform, resource, training program, or even cross-disciplinary innovation center.

Bricks do not become bricks out of thin air.

It takes soil, water, molds, fire, and a kiln.

It also needs to be fired batch by batch, eliminating the cracked ones and keeping those capable of bearing weight.

Jiangs Brick is a brick in the mathematical sense.

And what Jiang Lin is looking for now is a place that can burn more things into load-bearing structures.

The eyes of the person in charge from Tsinghua University lit up instantly.

The Peking University professor shook his head with some regret, and then extended his hand.

"Although this answer is a huge loss for Peking University, we respect it. Tsinghua University's massive engineering brick kiln is perhaps indeed more suitable for the path you want to take."

Jiang Lin stood up, tightly grasped the professor's hand with both hands, and said solemnly: "Thank you, Teacher."

The person in charge from Tsinghua University also stood up at this time, suppressing his inner wild joy, and pushed that Preliminary Plan for Cross-Training back in front of Jiang Lin.

"This is only a first draft. After you read it, annotate the interfaces you truly need, the administrative restrictions you cannot accept, and all external cooperative relations you hope to retain, item by item. After we take it back, we will go through formal procedures to turn the draft into a training plan recognized by the school and executable by various departments."

"Okay, sorry to trouble the two teachers." Jiang Lin nodded and put away the document.

Seeing off the two groups of people, it was already past eight o'clock in the evening.

Zhang Xiufen stood at the doorway, coming back to her senses after a good while: "So it's settled like this, going to Tsinghua University?"

"Mm."

Zhang Xiufen opened her mouth, wanting to say something, but suddenly didn't know what to say.

Tsinghua University.

These two words, to the vast majority of people, were already heavy enough in themselves.

So heavy that many questions in her mind didn't even have the qualification to line up to be spoken out for a moment.

Jiang Jianguo silently stood up, folded the stools that had been moved out one by one again, neatly put them away, and placed them in the corner.

After finishing putting away the stools, he sat down beside Jiang Lin.

Jiang Jianguo took out the two business cards that he had subconsciously crumpled from his pocket, smoothing them out bit by bit.

Staring at the one from Tsinghua, he watched for a long time before holding back a sentence: "Even in my dreams in this lifetime, Dad never dared to think that teachers from Tsinghua and Peking University could sit on this old sofa in our home and argue over you like this."

Half past nine at night.

The temperature in Jiangcheng remained high.

Jiang Lin sat back in front of the desk.

The hustle and bustle outside the window seemed as if it would never stop; downstairs, there were still a few media cars with their high beams on that hadn't left, and in the distance, the sound of people excitedly discussing occasionally drifted over.

On his mobile phone, Meng Che, Yin Hang, Yao Siyu, Sun Ming, Jiang Yao, and some people he knew or didn't know all sent messages to congratulate him.

As for more, requests from major media outlets for exclusive interviews.

Emails from major tech platforms seeking traffic cooperation.

Famous overseas universities even sent invitation links hoping he could immediately conduct an online report.

All sounds, all gazes, all interests and expectations overlapped together at this moment, interweaving into a huge net.