London.
At the banquet venue.
Zhang Ye's entrance still made some people take notice of him. There weren't too many Asians who were nominated for the Nobel Prizes, so even if they did not know what Zhang Ye looked like, they could still guess who he was. Furthermore, if they asked around, they would be able to find out his identity too. So some of the people at the venue cast curious glances at him. Gone with the Wind and its author became very well-known throughout the world during this past month.
"So he's the writer from China?"
"He's this young?"
"It's the first time I've seen him too."
"Why does he know the Nobel Prize nominees from the math and physics crowd?"
"Don't you guys know?"
"Know about what?"
"He's a well-known mathematician to begin with."
"Huh?"
"Really?"
"Surely he can't be a very well-known mathematician, right?"
