Decoded by Mai Jia Page B

damaging – he was trying to hold it off for a year or two, to let Jinzhen concentrate on his studies, for he was sure that Jinzhen’s mysterious mathematical genius would sooner or later shine through.
    As things turned out, Young Lillie was perhaps a bit too conservative. After just two weeks of class, Professor Jan Liseiwicz joined him on the list of people who had noticed the boy’s talents. As the professor said, ‘I can see that N University has produced yet another fine mathematician, and perhaps he will be one of the great mathematicians of our time. At the very least he will be the best that you and I will ever see.’
    He was talking about Jinzhen.
    Jan Liseiwicz was almost the same age as the century. He was born into a Polish aristocratic family in 1901. His mother was Jewish, and she bequeathed him what people in those days thought of as a typical Jewish face: a strong forehead, a hawk-like nose, and dark curly hair. He was also remarkably intelligent: his memory amazed people; on the Binet-Simon tests he registered practically off the scale. At the age of four, the young Liseiwicz was already obsessed by games in which the competitors pitted their intelligence against each other – it was at this stage that he started playing chess and learning set variations. By the time he was six, none of his family or their friends would dare to play against him. Everyone who saw him play chess said the same thing: he was a genius such as comes along maybe once in a century. Others complimented his mother: ‘Another great Jewish mathematician has been born!’
    At the age of fourteen, Jan Liseiwicz accompanied his parents to a party to celebrate a wedding in another local aristocratic family; also present on this occasion were the family of Michael Steinroder, at that time one of the most famous mathematicians in the world. At the time of this unexpected meeting, Michael Steinroder was the Director of the Institute of Mathematics at Cambridge University and a chess grandmaster. Mr Liseiwicz senior explained to the mathematician that he hoped that one day his son would be able to study at Cambridge University. Steinroder said arrogantly, ‘There are two ways to gratify that ambition. Either he has to pass the standard entrance examinations held every year for Cambridge University or he has to win the Newtonian Prize in Mathematics or Physics offered every two years by the Royal Society.’ (The prize was awarded in mathematics in oddnumbered years and for physics in even-numbered years. The first five highly commended individuals could attend Cambridge University without having to pass the entrance examinations and for free.)
    The young Jan Liseiwicz then piped up: ‘I have heard that you are regarded as the world’s finest amateur chess player. How about we play a game? If I win, surely I should be allowed to attend the university without having to take the entrance examinations?’
    Steinroder replied sternly, ‘I am happy to play a game with you, but let me make it clear – you have demanded a great favour from me if you win. I am happy to oblige, but in return I am going to ask something of you if you lose. In this way the game will be fair. If you do not agree, then I decline to play.’
    ‘Tell me what you want me to do,’ Jan responded.
    ‘If you lose,’ the mathematician said, ‘you can never apply to attend Cambridge University.’
    He was hoping to scare Jan off, but the only person who got frightened was the boy’s father. A storm of protest from Mr Liseiwicz senior made his son somewhat hesitant, but in the end he said confidently, ‘Fine!’
    Surrounded by onlookers, the pair of them began to move their chess pieces, but within less than half an hour, Steinroder got up from the table and said with a laugh to Mr Liseiwicz: ‘Bring your son to Cambridge next year.’
    Mr Liseiwicz said, ‘You haven’t finished the game yet.’
    The mathematician said, ‘Do you really think I can’t tell when I