TMI - Chapter 66

[ Digital Brain ] was the latest intellectual competition show being developed by Lychee TV. Luo Yue had received an invitation a few days earlier.

It came from a junior sister she'd met through a university club. The junior sister, a media studies graduate who had secured a job at the TV station as a casting director, had sent her a 200-yuan red envelope and bombarded her with over a dozen WeChat messages, guaranteeing her a spot on the show as long as she applied. She insisted that filling out the application form was just a formality to show the higher-ups.

Luo Yue didn't accept the red envelope, which the junior sister took as a polite decline. She urged her to think it over again.

Participating in the show offered extra income, increased visibility, and the chance to meet many talented people. From any angle, it seemed like a win-win.

Moreover, the show was practically tailored for Luo Yue: high looks, high education, and high talent.

The junior sister had witnessed Luo Yue's mathematical prowess firsthand and was awestruck. As soon as the project was finalized, she immediately approached Luo Yue.

But Luo Yue was hesitant.

Her current research was at a critical stage, and she couldn't afford to be distracted by other commitments. After careful consideration, she had no choice but to decline.

The junior sister explained that the program's filming would take some time, as they were currently only in the screening phase. They needed to finalize the participants, coordinate with the mentors, and confirm the filming locations before the first recording could take place.

A minimum of two months—just enough time to finish before Luo Yue's school term began.

The junior sister's sincerity, combined with the filming location being in Jiayi, made Luo Yue somewhat tempted. She agreed to consider it.

Finally, in the quiet depths of the night, she conquered the most challenging part of her research. All that remained were data inputs and the paper write-up.

Luo Yue finally settled down and decided to sign up for the program.

Having already prepared her job application materials after graduation, she simply copied and pasted the relevant information into the application form.

Five minutes later, she sent the completed form to her junior sister.

With that task complete, she finally had a moment to check her other messages.

Seeing Qin Chaoyi's message from a few minutes earlier, Luo Yue tapped out a reply: [ Not yet. ]

Moon Island was as silent as usual in the early morning, the wind and waves blending together in a rhythmic murmur that grew louder with each passing moment.

Luo Yue rubbed her aching waist, switched off her desk lamp, and climbed into bed in the dark.

As her body sank into the soft mattress, her mind, too weary to dwell on anything further, emptied itself of thought.

---

---

PREV | TOC | NEXT

The next day, Luo Yue woke up to see Qin Chaoyi's messages.

A 2MB text document and several voice messages.

Why did you stay up so late? Don't you have two classes tomorrow morning?

When's summer vacation starting?

That song in your WeChat post is pretty good. Do you like the band? Want to check out a live show together if we have time?

Are you asleep yet? Goodnight, Moon.

Luo Yue played the voice messages on speaker twice before replying:

The band's songs really resonate with me. If we're both free, let's definitely go see them live.

I haven't heard the official summer vacation announcement yet, but it should be coming soon.

I crashed after finishing everything last night. I'm exhausted.

She patiently replied to each message one by one.

But Qin Chaoyi didn't respond immediately, probably still asleep.

This had become their recent pattern of communication, always seeming to be out of sync.

When Luo Yue was busy, Qin Chaoyi might be free, and vice versa.

Both were immersed in their own affairs, their social circles undergoing major changes, making even daily check-ins feel unnecessary.

Luo Yue didn't know what was happening with Qin Chaoyi, but she'd mentioned being at the hospital.

It must be something serious.

There wasn't much Luo Yue could do; she could only be patient and wait.

Wait for the wind to blow, wait for the ship to dock.

Qin Chaoyi's grandmother returned to Moon Island, staying as usual and occasionally running into Luo Yue. When they had free time, they would chat.

The elderly woman was still in good spirits and often sat with Grandma Shixi to chat when she had free time.

But not long after, she left Moon Island again.

Developers had arrived. The island was designated as a key economic development project by the government, to be developed into a resort by Hongxing Group.

However, recently, Yan Jingshan, the president of Hongxing Group, collapsed during an inspection and was diagnosed with a serious illness. This made the economic news, causing a panic as the company's stocks plummeted.

For the people of Moon Island, this wasn't a big deal.

No one paid attention to economic news, nor did anyone care if Moon Island was to become a resort. Everyone continued their daily lives as usual.

The topic initially caused a stir on the island, but after a few days of discussion, no one brought it up again.

It was just like when Qin Chaoyi first came to Moon Island.

When she arrived, she was the focus of everyone's attention, but few remembered her after she left.

Even Yan Ci, who had run a café on the island for so long, now had a "Return Date Unannounced" notice on her door, yet no one cared.

After submitting her application, Junior Sister sent Luo Yue many messages that morning, full of praise and gratitude.

Luo Yue wasn't sure if her decision was right. Publishing the research results would still take some time.

She chose to leave Moon Island for Jiayi, half because of Qin Chaoyi, and half for herself.

Perhaps she would never have the courage to face Professor Cheng and his son, to expose their evil deeds.

But she had to move forward.

To show those scum that she could publish her own academic work without them.

Those empty frauds could only remain parasites and outcasts in the academic world.

The scattered papers on the desk remained untouched as morning sunlight streamed in, gilding the room in gold.

It was on such an ordinary morning that Luo Yue opened Qin Chaoyi's document, Burning Springtime.

The protagonist was Xu Chun.

She burned herself to forge a path to the light.

She was a villain, but life had never truly treated her kindly.

A tale where every character is a villain.

Bloody scenes of dismemberment and corpse concealment abound, along with countless accomplices helping Xu Chun hide the truth.

Until finally, Xu Chun pressed a knife to her throat and declared, "I have no other path to walk."

"If I could do it all over, I would make the same choice."

Thus, a dark utopia was constructed.

One couldn't help but marvel at Qin Chaoyi's talent: every word precise, striking the core of human pain with ruthless efficiency.

She laid bare the twisted complexities of human nature and the dark, painful depths of life.

This was utterly unlike something one would expect from a wealthy young lady.

Moreover, mystery novels are typically short, especially those focused on a single case and protagonist—200,000 words is considered the limit.

Yet Qin Chaoyi doubled the usual length and delivered dozens of times the excitement.

It was bound to be a story that would both sell well and garner critical acclaim.

Luo Yue finished reading the 400,000-word novel in two days.

After finishing, Luo Yue told her, "You've grown braver."

And sharper too.

Qin Chaoyi didn't have time to respond until that evening. "Are you done with your work?"

Luo Yue sent her the results. "You haven't disappointed in your bravery."

Qin Chaoyi couldn't understand the complex numbers and formulas, but having spent years dealing with mathematics, she knew that producing a proof required countless calculations.

Looking for something to talk about, Qin Chaoyi asked, "What did you prove?"

Luo Yue replied, "The Riemann Hypothesis."

Even after seeing those four words, Qin Chaoyi remained clueless. Her math education had stopped at the third year of high school, where functions and spatial proofs were the most headache-inducing topics. She had no idea of the weight carried by the words "Riemann Hypothesis."

Luo Yue said, "In 1859, German mathematician Bernhard Riemann proposed a conjecture about the distribution of zeros, but his proof was very brief and included a statement that he himself acknowledged he hadn't proven. Most people believe the conjecture is true, but no one has been able to provide a complete and rigorous proof." [1]

Luo Yue's voice was soft, gentle, and calm.

So calm that it didn't seem like she had just solved a world-class mathematical problem, but rather like she had just climbed a small hill.

"Then you've proven it?" Qin Chaoyi asked.

[ No. ] Luo Yue replied.

Luo Yue's recent calculations and exercises had only proven a part of the conjecture, based on the current questions and challenges in international mathematical research regarding the Riemann Hypothesis.

A significant gap remained before the Riemann Hypothesis could be fully proven—a gap that couldn't be bridged by her current capabilities.

She knew Professor Luo had always harbored a deep passion for the Riemann Hypothesis, with his ultimate dream being to derive a complete proof. But even after devoting so much time to it, he had only covered a small portion of the journey.

Luo Yue might never prove the conjecture in her lifetime, but she would keep striving.

At least, her current research findings were destined to make a splash.

Luo Yue explained her recent work to Qin Chaoyi using a barrage of technical jargon, which Qin Chaoyi didn't understand at all.

But Qin Chaoyi could sense the joy and confidence in her voice.

"Luo Yue," Qin Chaoyi called out. "You're amazing."

Her words carried genuine admiration.

After listening to Qin Chaoyi's voice, Luo Yue paused to think before typing: [ Want a video call? ]

Within seconds, Qin Chaoyi's video call popped up.

It had been nearly fifty days since Qin Chaoyi left Moon Island.

Fifty days since she'd last seen the sea around Moon Island, walked along its coastline, or stood by the reefs feeling the ocean breeze.

She'd thought she wouldn't adjust, but life had forced her to adapt, without even giving her time to adjust.

In a moment of reflection, she realized how much time had passed.

Luo Yue had lost weight, her hair still tied back casually, and she wore a pale moon-white nightgown that accentuated her gentle and refined demeanor.

Qin Chaoyi stared greedily at the screen, wishing she could reach through and embrace the person on the other side.

"You've lost weight," Qin Chaoyi said.

Luo Yue crossed her arms, her lips pressed into a thin line, looking visibly displeased.

"What's wrong?" Qin Chaoyi asked, feeling a twinge of nervousness.

Luo Yue said, "You promised you'd take good care of yourself. Is this what you call taking care of yourself?"

Qin Chaoyi was taken aback. "How..."

Before she could finish, Luo Yue sighed. "Princess Chaochao, how did you get so thin?"

Before, she had been lean but still had a bit of flesh on her chin.

Now she was emaciated, lacking vitality, as if life had worn her down.

The once-blooming flower of human prosperity had transformed completely, reduced to skin and bones, looking almost frightening.

Luo Yue's voice was soft, tinged with pity.

Qin Chaoyi was momentarily stunned. She opened her mouth, but didn't know how to explain her current predicament to Luo Yue.

She hadn't told Luo Yue about her parents being hospitalized, or how anxious she'd been when Professor Qin went into surgery.

She knew Luo Yue was busy, so she didn't want to burden her with worries or make her fret over her. But none of that changed anything.

At that moment, Luo Yue asked her, "Is life really that difficult for you?"

Qin Chaoyi suddenly couldn't hold back. She set her phone flat on the table, covered her eyes with both hands, and tears streamed down her cheeks. Her voice was both plaintive and choked with sobs: "Luo Yue, I miss you so much."

"I want to hug you," Qin Chaoyi said. "I'm not happy at all right now."

"I want to see you."

Ever since Luo Yue shared "Ivory Boat" in her social media feed, the song had become a must-play before bedtime for Qin Chaoyi.

Her mind echoed Luo Yue's words: "If you want to leave, just go."

But she wanted to stay by Luo Yue's side.

The strained chord finally snapped. Qin Chaoyi said, "I want to see you. Can you come to Jiayi to meet me?"

Fearing rejection, Qin Chaoyi added hastily, "When you have time..."

Before she could finish, Luo Yue replied, "Yes."

Luo Yue said, "As long as you want to see me, I'm always available."

PREV | TOC | NEXT