Prodigy’s Playground

Chapter 81 A Way Out

It had to be said—

Even though the old photograph offered limited clues, it greatly boosted morale.

Qin Feng and Old Qi had both reached the same conclusion: something like the Positron Cannon—an “accidental” product assembled from dismantled parts—once taken apart, could not truly be repaired. Even if the original creator came back, they might not be able to reproduce an identical one.

But in Jiang Ran’s view…

That thinking was too absolute.

What if the original creator really was some once-in-a-generation genius?

If someone could conquer Goldbach’s Conjecture at twenty—

Then why couldn’t three seniors in their early twenties have legitimately developed the Positron Cannon?

“Donghai University truly hides dragons and crouching tigers. Incredible.”

Jiang Ran couldn’t help feeling proud of his alma mater’s depth.Good.

With this old photograph, there was at least one more thread of hope in the plan to revive Cheng Mengxue.

The Positron Cannon.

The spacetime shuttle.

Two fronts advancing together.

“It’s just a pity I can’t find any information about the 2005 Film Camera Club.”

Chi Xiaoguo walked over.

“It’s too long ago. And my friend at the alumni office said many early graduates can’t be contacted anymore. Most of the phone numbers are invalid.”

“She said if we could provide names—or even majors—they might be able to search. But the three people in this photo… we don’t know anything about them. And because of the overexposure, we can’t even see their faces clearly.”

Jiang Ran nodded.

“It’s fine. Finding this photo is already a breakthrough.”

“If it comes down to it, we’ll call every 2005 alumnus one by one. Ask indirectly. See if anyone remembers the Film Camera Club back then. Or the long-haired rock guy.”

“I suspect that long-haired rock guy might’ve left a stronger impression than the club itself. Assuming he really did play rock.”

Back in 2005—

If someone was doing campus rock performances, playing on the field or at shows—

They would absolutely have been a campus celebrity. Even twenty years later, someone would remember.

“Nice.”

Jiang Ran was sincerely grateful.

“Thank you for putting in so much effort. This photo really matters.”

“Hehe, I’m just glad I could help!”

Chi Xiaoguo scratched her head shyly.

Since meeting Jiang Ran, this was the first time she had truly helped him in a meaningful way. The sense of accomplishment filled her.

“Well, since the other old files aren’t useful, I’ll return them.”

She gestured toward the messy archive boxes on the table and lowered her voice.

“These aren’t actually allowed to be borrowed. But I have a roommate who does work-study in the archives…”

“I get it.”

Jiang Ran nodded silently.

Anyone who had gone to university understood.

“I’ll carry some with you. They’re heavy.”

Yesterday she had lugged all of this over by herself. Looking at her small frame, Jiang Ran had felt a little sorry. This time, he intended to accompany her.

After a quick tidy-up—

They each picked up part of the archive boxes and set off.

Passing the cafeteria—

They noticed an entire bulletin board plastered with a large promotional poster. A crowd had gathered around it, buzzing noisily.

“What’s that?”

Curious, Jiang Ran and Chi Xiaoguo approached.

Blocked by the crowd, Chi Xiaoguo hopped up and down, but with archive boxes in her arms she couldn’t jump high enough. She grew flustered.

“Senior! What are they looking at?”

Jiang Ran was tall enough to see clearly. He read the bold headline aloud:

“[Qiu Tongcheng University Student Mathematics Competition]… Qiu Tongcheng… that name sounds familiar.”

In an instant—

He remembered.

“Academician Qiu!”

Jiang Ran had never been particularly interested in math competitions as a child and lacked talent in that area. But the name Qiu Tongcheng was famous enough that he had heard it before.

Qiu Tongcheng was a world-renowned Chinese mathematician, an academician in both China and the United States, and president of multiple top-tier academic institutions.

As early as 1982, he had won the Fields Medal—the highest international award in mathematics. In the decades that followed, he received countless honors and held towering prestige in the mathematical world.

Different fields were like different mountains. This was Jiang Ran’s first time hearing about a competition named after Qiu Tongcheng.

He ignored Chi Xiaoguo’s hopping curiosity for the moment and focused on reading the poster.

So that was it…

The Qiu Tongcheng University Student Mathematics Competition was initiated by Tsinghua University’s Qiu Tongcheng Center for Mathematical Sciences, specifically targeting students at Dragon Country universities.

The competition comprehensively assessed knowledge across geometry and topology, algebra, number theory and combinatorics, probability and statistics, applied and computational mathematics, analysis and partial differential equations, and mathematical physics—selecting outstanding talent by standards comparable to graduate qualification exams at top international universities.

From the poster, Jiang Ran gathered that the competition was extremely difficult—but the rewards were equally significant.

The reward was not monetary.

It was educational resources.

The poster only briefly stated—

[Winners of the Qiu Tongcheng Award may obtain direct doctoral admission to Tsinghua University, or recommendation letters to world-class universities.]

That was powerful.

Jiang Ran hadn’t expected that.

But considering Academician Qiu’s status, it made sense.

Direct doctoral admission to Tsinghua meant entering Qiu’s institute.

Recommendation letters to elite domestic or international universities—backed by Qiu Tongcheng—would carry immense weight.

In the end, anyone who could outshine countless math prodigies and win the Qiu Tongcheng Award would unquestionably be exceptional. Sending such talent to institutions worthy of them—wasn’t that the true purpose of education?

Seen that way, this competition carried real meaning.

“Ah, finally squeezed through.”

Relying on her small size like a drill bit, Chi Xiaoguo wriggled her way through the crowd to the front.

She lifted her head.

“Oh, it’s this.”

“You know about it?” Jiang Ran asked.

“Mm.”

She nodded.

“I attended a lecture by seniors. Last year our Donghai University team won first place in two categories. Super impressive.”

“Our math department is very strong. Look—on the honor board on the right. Almost every year, whether individual or team competition, Donghai University ranks near the top.”

Jiang Ran stepped to the side and examined the honors list.

Indeed—

Among the top five in nearly every category, Donghai University appeared consistently. Tsinghua had the most wins, but Donghai University’s stable performance was nothing to scoff at.

At the bottom was another line.

To date, more than half of the award-winning students had gone on to further study at Tsinghua, Harvard, Yale, MIT, and other world-renowned universities.

Jiang Ran understood.

“So the purpose of this competition is to give students who lacked conditions, ability, or even luck to enter top universities… a second chance to prove themselves.”

“Exactly.”

Chi Xiaoguo lifted her chin.

“I still remember what the senior speaker quoted from Academician Qiu.”

“He said the original intention of founding this competition was to provide fair competitive opportunities to students who did not enter Dragon Country’s top universities.”

“[Academician Qiu said this is important. A high school student may have many reasons for not entering a top university—bad luck, illness, poverty, immaturity. But those circumstances can change. They should be given another chance.]”

“He himself experienced similar setbacks in his student years and didn’t enter a first-tier university at first. Only through hardship and effort did he gain recognition.”

“So he used his own resources to open this competition to all university students in Dragon Country—key universities, first-tier, second-tier, third-tier, even junior colleges… anyone can register.”

“The top ten in total points win the highest honor—the Qiu Tongcheng Award. And once you get that, you basically receive Academician Qiu’s recommendation and can directly enter a top university… regardless of your previous academic background.”

Jiang Ran listened silently.

This was talent without rigid boundaries.

For students who were exceptional in mathematics but uneven elsewhere, Dragon Country’s current selection system did make it difficult to enter elite universities solely on math ability.

But this competition—

It offered a second life.

Then—

For his current predicament—

Could this also—

Be a way to leap from junior college to the Dragon Gate?

That night, back at Donghai Overseas Economic and Trade Vocational College, in the dormitory—

Jiang Ran took out his phone and began searching for detailed information about the Qiu Tongcheng University Student Mathematics Competition.

Since its founding in 2010, many math prodigies had gained access to educational resources worthy of them.

But from the award lists, most winners were from Tsinghua, Peking University, Dragon Science and Technology University, Nankai, Donghai University, Xiamen University—already elite institutions.

Occasionally, a winner would emerge from another 985 university, immediately receive Qiu Tongcheng’s personal recommendation, and transfer to Tsinghua or another top domestic university.

As for winners already from elite universities, many chose Harvard or MIT for further study.

In short—

Academician Qiu’s recommendation letter was a passport to any top university.

But the premise—

You had to win the highest honor: the Qiu Tongcheng Award.

For individual competitors—

The competition consisted of five subjects: algebra and combinatorics, probability and statistics, applied and computational mathematics, analysis and partial differential equations, and mathematical physics.

Each participant could enter up to five subjects. The three highest scores would be summed.

A gold medal earned five points.

Silver, three points.

Bronze, two points.

In the end, the two highest scorers received gold awards, the next three silver, the next five bronze. All were Qiu Tongcheng Award winners.

Which meant—

Only by cutting through brambles, surpassing countless prodigies, and achieving top-tier results across multiple disciplines—

Could one break into the final top ten and win the Qiu Tongcheng Award.

“Too hard. Way too hard.”

Jiang Ran tossed his phone aside.

“Impossible. Absolutely impossible.”

He was self-aware.

If it were just one subject, he might dare gamble—maybe he had some hidden mathematical talent.

But to score highly in at least three of five subjects, competing against elite university prodigies across the country—

That was cosmic-level difficulty.

“Forget it. Sleep.”

He turned over.

He knew clearly—

The Qiu Tongcheng University Student Mathematics Competition belonged to real geniuses.

Not his world.

Murmuring softly—

In the dim dormitory, his roommate’s electronic clock emitted a faint chime.

Midnight.

The old day ended.

A new day began.

Ding.

Almost simultaneously, Jiang Ran’s phone buzzed with a WeChat notification. The screen lit up.

He rolled over again.

Half-asleep, he picked it up.

It was from Nan Xiuxiu.

“June 1st~ It’s lifted, it’s lifted~”

Ding.

Another message.

A cute little rabbit waving.

Below it—

[Jiang Ran, Happy Children’s Day!]