Genius Playground

Mid-June arrived.

Universities across Dragon Country were entering their exam weeks one after another, and students were getting busier.

It was the same for Jiang Ran.

His study sessions in the 2045 prison were also coming to an end.

"I’ve noticed you’re a quick study. Incredibly smart."

Standing before a mottled white wall, the elderly Zhang Yang looked at Jiang Ran with considerable surprise.

"Although the proof for Goldbach’s Conjecture isn’t exceptionally difficult, it’s only been an hour, and you’ve already grasped the whole thing from start to finish. You really have a gift for mathematics."

"Sigh... look at you, young man. With such a great talent for math, you just had to go astray. Wasting your life in prison... what a terrible shame..."

Zhang Yang’s eyes were full of regret, but then he gave a self-deprecating laugh.

"Then again, it’s not like I’m in any position to talk. We’re all in the same boat."

...

Lately, Jiang Ran’s routine had become very fixed, and that included using the Positron Cannon to travel to the Future World of 2045.

Every time he landed and opened his eyes, he would first find a corner to sit in and quietly watch Sang Biao’s furious, flustered performance.

Then, he’d pick up the Silver Iron Wire Sang Biao had thrown on the ground and toss it to his other lock-picking tool... the Assassin.

The Assassin was as omnipotent as Doraemon, his lock-picking skills far superior to Sang Biao’s.

After that came the same peaceful interlude as always: Jiang Ran and Zhang Yang would sit on the floor discussing mathematics, the Assassin would stand behind them leaning against the iron bars, and the stupid young man would be shadowboxing, punching east and west at some unseen opponent.

The deeper Jiang Ran delved into his mathematical studies, the more he felt the unparalleled power of the peerless genius, Lu Yu.

’How in the world is this guy’s brain wired?’

’Such exquisite reasoning, such a perfect deduction... it’s enough to make you prostrate yourself in admiration.’

It was thanks to Lu Yu’s incredibly concise proof of Goldbach’s Conjecture that he could master it. If the method had been too complex and convoluted... there was no way Jiang Ran could have grasped it in such a short time.

"Thank you, Teacher Zhang."

Jiang Ran said with sincerity.

They say a teacher for a day is a father for life. While he had no intention of forming a father-son bond with Zhang Yang, his respect and gratitude were genuine.

Whether it was the young and promising Teacher Zhang Yang of 2025 or the down-and-out, imprisoned Teacher Zhang Yang of 2045.

In Jiang Ran’s heart, he would always be a teacher he respected for life.

Today.

Under Teacher Zhang’s supervision, he had gone through the complete proof process for Goldbach’s Conjecture from beginning to end by himself.

His recitation was complete, his logic was clear, the framework was sound, and there were no mistakes.

Finally.

He, a self-taught, second-rate mathematician, was about to graduate from Zhang Yang’s tutelage.

He stood up.

Jiang Ran gave Zhang Yang a deep bow.

"Teacher Zhang, thank you for your guidance all this time. I’m truly grateful."

The bow left Zhang Yang baffled.

"What... what are you talking about?"

He didn’t know whether to laugh or cry.

"We’ve known each other for less than two hours. How could it be ’guidance all this time’? I have no idea what you’re saying."

"Ultimately, I just listened to you review it. You’re so skilled, you must have studied Goldbach’s Conjecture before you were imprisoned. I was just a listener; it’s your own talent that’s so high."

Jiang Ran didn’t respond to Teacher Zhang’s praise.

’I don’t have any talent for math... ’

’It was all due to his patient, day-after-day instruction that I went from being full of holes at the beginning to my current skillful mastery.’

From the perspective of the white-haired Teacher Zhang before him, they had indeed only known each other for an hour.

But in Jiang Ran’s eyes, it had been over ten days of tireless effort.

"Teacher Zhang, I have one more question for you."

Jiang Ran looked up.

"Do you remember how Lu Yu announced his research findings back then? Did he send them directly to a journal?"

"No, that’s not what happened."

Zhang Yang shook his head.

"He submitted the manuscript directly to the academic director of the School of Mathematical Sciences, and the university helped him publish it under his name."

"Actually, Lu Yu regretted it later. After this earth-shattering, monumental achievement was announced, he instantly became a super-genius watched by the entire world. All sorts of things followed, severely disrupting his life."

"It wasn’t just being followed, interviewed, photographed, and surrounded everywhere he went. People even flocked to his classes to ask for autographs and photos, which affected his ability to live and study normally."

Jiang Ran nodded.

’So that’s how it was.’

He had asked this question because he was worried about that very situation arising.

’After all, this is Goldbach’s Conjecture...’

A super-problem that had plagued the world of mathematics for three centuries would, in today’s internet age, absolutely force Lu Yu to become a household name.

The consequences would be either being constantly surrounded, making life and study inconvenient, or being taken under state protection to focus solely on research.

In any case, he definitely wouldn’t be able to stay on a campus like East Sea University’s. He would inevitably run into trouble.

And that was a kind of trouble Jiang Ran didn’t want to face.

He knew he had many secrets...

The Positron Cannon,

The Time SMS,

The 2045 Future World,

The Time Travel Machine,

And so on.

If he also publicly announced his solution to Goldbach’s Conjecture, not only would he face all sorts of inconveniences, but he also wouldn’t be able to use the Positron Cannon under the watchful gaze of countless eyes, making all his future plans nearly impossible to execute.

Therefore.

He had to carefully consider how to publish this mathematical achievement, one that was significant enough to shake the world.

"The Dragon Country Academy of Sciences..."

Jiang Ran mused.

"There, you really wouldn’t have to worry. After all, it’s Dragon Country’s top scientific research institution."

’Huh?’

He blinked.

A sudden thought struck him.

"Teacher Zhang! Your teacher, isn’t he the Dean of the Longke Institute? I remember you were Dean Gao Yan’s last disciple!"

Speaking of the past, the elderly Zhang Yang gave a helpless smile.

"I’ve brought shame to my school. Let’s not talk about it."

’No, no, no.’

Jiang Ran had thought of the perfect plan.

His purpose in coming to 2045 to "steal" the proof for Goldbach’s Conjecture was simply to get a recommendation letter to study at East Sea University.

He had no intention of using this mathematical achievement for fame or fortune; in fact, he wanted to avoid them at all costs.

’So...’

’Which means...’

’He just needs to get the recommendation letter. Nothing else matters.’

Instead of causing trouble for himself by publishing it publicly, why not send the results directly to the Dean of the Longke Institute, Zhang Yang’s mentor, Dean Gao Yan?

He didn’t care about the credit for this achievement at all. He could just give it to the Dragon Country Academy of Sciences. That way, he’d be keeping it in the family, so to speak.

As for what happened to it after that, that would be the Dragon Country Academy of Sciences’ business. He didn’t care and wouldn’t interfere.

His only small request would be to have Dean Gao Yan, along with two other academicians, write him a recommendation letter.

In any case.

Recommending a "mathematical genius" who had conquered a century-defining problem like Goldbach’s Conjecture to study at a top university like East Sea University seemed perfectly reasonable, right?

’Yes.’

’Fair.’

’Reasonable.’

’And above board!’

Just then, a faint tremor ran through the ceiling and floor, accompanied by earth-shaking shouts from the distance.

Jiang Ran was already very familiar with this commotion.

The only thing that could cause such a din from the execution grounds was the Magician having his burlap hood removed, with everyone roaring for the public enemy’s head.

At the same time, this also meant...

In about two minutes, the Magician’s head would roll.

And Jiang Ran.

Would, amid a buzzing dizziness, end this cycle and return to 2025.

"It’s time to say goodbye, Teacher Zhang."

?

Zhang Yang froze.

"Where are you going? To chase Sang Biao?"

"No."

Jiang Ran shook his head.

"I’m going back."

In that instant, the nearby Assassin looked up, his gaze locking onto Jiang Ran.

"Going back?"

Zhang Yang still hadn’t processed it.

"Back where? To your cell?"

Jiang Ran just smiled faintly and didn’t answer.

He reached out, helped the elderly Zhang Yang to his feet, and brushed the dust off his clothes.

"Teacher Zhang, thank you for teaching me so patiently. I will definitely find a way to repay you."

This sentence actually made Zhang Yang laugh.

"It was nothing. Don’t talk about repaying me."

"Besides, we’re both prisoners here. We can’t change anything. We just have to get through it one day at a time."

"I will repay you."

Jiang Ran’s voice was firm as iron.

The best way to repay Teacher Zhang was to find the right opportunity, 20 years in the past, to warn him not to research Quantum Tunneling.

In previous cycles, Zhang Yang had mentioned that he was sent to prison because he delved too deeply into his research on Quantum Tunneling.

As long as he could find a way to stop Teacher Zhang from researching it, there was a high probability he could be spared his future imprisonment.

At that time...

In this prison, Cell No. 4 across the way would probably become empty, just like Cell No. 6.

Or perhaps a new cellmate would replace Zhang Yang in Cell No. 4.

But no matter what.

The once young, promising, gentle, and kind Zhang Yang wouldn’t suffer endless torment here, wouldn’t become as ancient as a seventy-year-old man.

"Goodbye."

Jiang Ran held Zhang Yang’s dry, wrinkled hand one last time.

"I hope we never have to see each other here again."

BZZZT!

BZZZT!

BZZZT!

His vision twisted, his head spun, and everything went black, swallowed by an endless rotation.

Two seconds later.

The discomfort vanished. Jiang Ran opened his eyes and, just as expected, found himself back beside the transformer box, right on time.

"Next, I need to find the email address for Dean Gao Yan of the Longke Institute."

...

Connecting his laptop to the Wi-Fi, Jiang Ran began his search.

It was easy to find the official, public-facing email address for the Dragon Country Academy of Sciences online.

But that inbox was flooded daily with submissions from "folk scientists"—people claiming they had either invented a perpetual motion machine or proven Einstein wrong...

Among all the emails, those claiming to have proven Goldbach’s Conjecture topped the list. Almost every day, they received numerous submissions from amateur scientists who "believed they had succeeded."

The officials at the Longke Institute would absolutely never read these emails.

Their time was far too valuable to be spent dealing with such nonsense.

They would usually send a form reply: "Please submit your manuscript to a national scientific journal. After it has been reviewed by professional editors and published, the editorial department will forward it to us."

That whole process would take until who knows when, and Jiang Ran couldn’t wait that long.

Besides, submitting to a journal still wouldn’t solve the problem he’d just considered—becoming too famous would be detrimental to his future plans.

So, he had to keep a low profile.

No matter how he looked at it, Dean Gao Yan’s private email was the safest, most efficient, and most suitable solution.

But Gao Yan was the esteemed Dean of the Dragon Country Academy of Sciences. How could his email address just be publicly available?

As his last disciple, Teacher Zhang would definitely know his private email, but given his current relationship with Zhang Yang in this timeline...

*Cough, cough.*

’Better not.’

He had just stabbed the man with a pencil; asking for his mentor’s private email right after, only a ghost would give it to him!

Fortunately, after some persistent searching online, Jiang Ran found the email address for an assistant on a research project led by Dean Gao Yan.

’I’ll try my luck first. If there’s no reply in a couple of days, I’ll think of something else.’

Copying the email address.

Pasting.

Then, Jiang Ran attached the organized manuscript of the Goldbach’s Conjecture proof, wrote out his information, intentions, and contact details, and clicked send—

"And... away you go!"