On the top floor of the Mathematical Sciences Department at XianGuang Research Institute, Yue'er's office seemed a contemplation place independent of time's torrent. On three writable walls, most areas maintained a near‑Zen‑like blankness; only a small section near the window still held some subsequent‑sketch symbols and lines regarding "folded‑surface" topological invariants in her P‑vs‑NP geometrization model—appearing unhurried and profound, without the urgency and density of earlierbreakthrough stages. The air floated with the distinctive micro‑dust scent of old pages, mingling with the fresh post‑rain plant fragrance seeping from outside the window, creating a peaceful atmosphere of non‑contention.
The paper submitted to *Annals of Mathematics* was like a message‑in‑a‑bottle cast into deep sea; she had already delivered that intellectual crystallization condensed over months of effort to the tides and currents of academic ocean, herself withdrawing to this shore belonging to pure thought, continuing unfinished exploration.
Thus, when her personal‑terminal screen popped up an encrypted email from the "International Mathematical Union," her inner world didn't stir great waves. Calmly she opened the email; her gaze swept over those rigorous, formalized official phrases. The email roughly notified her that her submitted paper, "On the Geometric Separation of P and NP: A New Proof Based on Rigidity Obstacles in High‑Dimensional Manifolds," had passed the preliminary review of the Fields Medal Selection Committee; the work's originality, depth, and potential far‑reaching impact on theoretical computer science and mathematics itself had received high committee recognition. Accordingly, she was officially nominated as a candidate for this session's **Fields Medal**.
The email revealed no further details, only informing about next‑step procedures—including possible supplementary‑material submission and deeper peer review—and emphasizing the selection process's absolute confidentiality and impartiality.
Yue'er quietly finished reading the email; her face showed no ecstatic expression, not even a trace of obvious excitement. She merely tilted her head slightly, as if confirming the email's authenticity, then gently closed the email window—as if handling a routine academic correspondence.
**Fields Medal**. These two words, within mathematics, even the entire scientific pantheon, possessed incomparable lofty status. It was widely regarded as mathematics' highest honor; its influence and reputation even surpassed the Nobel Prize's standing in physics, chemistry, etc.—precisely because the Nobel Prize never established a mathematics award. More unique, the Fields Medal had a distinct age limit—awarded only to young mathematicians not exceeding 40 years that year. This made it not merely affirmation of achievements but high expectation of the recipient's future potential, acclaimed as "Mathematics' Nobel Prize" and "Young Mathematicians' Supreme Crown."
Selection process was extremely strict and confidential. The Selection Committee designated by the International Mathematical Union—composed of world‑top mathematicians—would, under absolute secrecy, conduct months‑long deep assessment, discussion, and comparison of works from numerous excellent mathematicians nominated globally. Its standards valued not only mathematical‑skill sophistication and single‑problem solution, but more importantly the work's **originality**, **depth**, and whether it opened new research areas or provided powerful new tools. The entire process resembled a silent, highest‑level intellectual trial; only at the opening ceremony of the International Congress of Mathematicians would the final award list be unveiled.
Being nominated itself was already a high honor, meaning one's work had entered global mathematics' top‑tier vision, receiving initial recognition from the strictest peers. For most mathematicians, this was almost the dream‑peak moment of a career.
Yet for Yue'er, this sudden, symbolizing supreme‑glory "call" didn't stir expected turmoil in her heart.
Was it because she already anticipated it? Perhaps. She had clear awareness of her work's value; she knew that paper on PNP geometrization—with its unique perspective transforming a millennium‑old problem into a deep geometric question and the key theorem proved—was enough to cause seismic shock in academia; entering Fields Medal's consideration wasn't unexpected.
Or because her nature was aloof, lacking desire for honor itself? Possibly. Her pursuit of mathematics' origin was always rooted in curiosity and fascination for the universe's underlying logic and harmonious structures—the inner joy brought when discovering simplicity and unity beneath complex appearances. External awards and fame, to her, resembled possible scenery encountered on exploration journeys, not the journey's purpose itself.
But a deeper reason, perhaps even she hadn't clearly realized: after experiencing constructing "XianGuang" with Mozi and Xiuxiu, standing together weathering external storms during this period, her vision and emotional anchors had quietly shifted. She was no longer merely that solitary explorer immersed in abstract‑symbol world; her life had tightly interwoven with two other exceptional souls, with a shared endeavor.
Her thoughts, almost uncontrollably, drifted away from this email representing personal‑academic‑peak honor. Drifted toward that office atop Shanghai Center Tower; toward that man who just underwent a brutal financial war—**Mozi**.
She knew he won. When Xiuxiu excitedly told her market‑reversal, adversary‑rout news, her tone brimmed with post‑disaster relief. Media already began publishing various analysis reports about that financial‑storm calming, depicting XianGuang Capital's resilience like myth.
But Yue'er understood Mozi. She understood that nearly‑harsh pursuit of "unity of knowledge and action" hidden beneath his calm exterior; his difficult attempt to inject moral warmth into cold capital. She could imagine what his inner world might be experiencing behind that victory—especially after employing such extremely cruel tactics as "liquidity sniping," "collateral strangulation."
That was definitely not merely victory's joy; more likely, it was sober recognition of capital's destructive power, heavy reflection on the invisible price behind victory, scars from fierce collision with his inner moral principles—scars hard to heal. That long night he spent alone in his office—Xiuxiu quietly told her. She could feel the weight borne beneath that silence.
Compared to Fields Medal nomination, what she **cared more about** at this moment was whether Mozi could **emerge** from the deep **shadow** brought by that financial‑war victory.
Honor is halo, also shackles. Inner peace and belief‑perseverance are the foundation supporting one to walk farther. She worried Mozi might be haunted by that war's cruelty; worried he would fall into self‑doubt because he employed those extreme means; worried his just‑budding "moral algorithm" would wither because of this.
This concern, so natural and profound, even surpassed her instinctive joy over her academic achievement's recognition.
She stood up, walked to that blank writable wall, didn't pick up a pen, just stood quietly. The wall seemed to reflect Mozi's deep, tired eyes—now lacking battlefield's cold sharpness and resolve, leaving only a post‑war‑ruin‑like silence and reflection.
She wondered: Was he now looking down at that city, pondering capital's power and boundaries? Was he re‑examining his "anti‑fragile" model, thinking how to truly build a capital system both powerful and good? Did he… need someone to share that unspeakable heaviness?
The Fields Medal's call, like a signal from distant starry sky—clear and glorious, yet seemed separated by a transparent barrier. While the ripples within Mozi's heart, like tides near at hand, genuinely tugged her heartstrings.
She sighed softly, that breath carrying a hint of indescribable complex emotion. There was a faint comfort over her work's recognition, but more—a deep concern for her comrade's situation.
Ultimately she didn't reply to that email, nor immediately share this news with anyone—including Xiuxiu and Mozi. She knew the selection process's confidentiality requirement, and preferred to keep this honor temporarily treasured, like storing a gem not needing display yet.
She returned to her desk; her gaze fell back on those "folded‑surface" sketches, attempting to pull attention back to mathematics' world. Yet thought‑threads kept drifting involuntarily toward that distance, entangling around that man at financial‑world center, undergoing another invisible battle.
Academic laurels are dazzling indeed. But at this moment, in her heart, another **emotional connection** based on shared experience, deep understanding, and silent support—seemed more real and weighty. She hoped that when Mozi's inner world refound that peaceful harbor, she could, with him and Xiuxiu, calmly share progress in each other's fields—whether technological breakthrough, theoretical construction, or… capital's redemption.
The Fields call was Mathematics Goddess' whisper to her wisdom. While this concern for Mozi—was a deeper, warmer bond within earthly‑life's smoke. On this quiet afternoon, the latter clearly occupied her mood.
She decided: Find a suitable moment, just as a friend, ask him—if he was alright.