Genius Club

This novel is translated and hosted on Bcatranslation

At last, it was finished.

The masterpiece by Emperor Gao Wen. Lin Xian had been waiting for this moment for what felt like forever.

But then… after the initial excitement, he was left feeling empty. Since Liu Feng hadn’t called, it probably meant that the numbers on the Time Clock hadn’t changed, and the timeline remained unaltered.

It was just too hard.

This time, the Ninth Dream, the 0.0001764 world line, was simply too stubborn. Despite using all his wit and strength, Lin Xian had failed to overcome the temporal elasticity.

Now, they were truly out of options.

“Wait for me at the lab. I’ll be right there,” Lin Xian instructed, then hung up and immediately called Liu Feng.

“Hello?”

“Are you at the lab?” Lin Xian asked.

“Of course I am!” Liu Feng replied casually. “Where else would I be? Usually, when you call, it’s always about something urgent. I’ll go check now.”

Shortly after, the phone was filled with the sound of footsteps. Liu Feng reached the Time Clock and took a look.

“No change, still the same numbers.”

Lin Xian let out a small sigh. “Du Yao said she’s finished building the Brain Neural Electric Helmet. She’s always so careful and precise—it’s hard to believe she made a mistake. And yet… even such an incredible invention didn’t manage to shift the timeline.”

“Alright, I’m hanging up now. I’ll go over to see Du Yao myself.”

The line disconnected, and Lin Xian looked at Zhao Ying Jun.

“That’s it, then. We’ve played every card we had. There’s nothing left to change the future. In the Ninth Dream, all I could find was a down-and-out author. I don’t even know if using the Brain Neural Electric Helmet will help her recover any valuable memories.”

“Since it’s now 2025, and Du Yao has already completed the Brain Neural Electric Helmet, we should be able to find one in the underground hibernation base by 2624. After all, with something this convenient, humanity won’t need memory notebooks or videos anymore.”

Zhao Ying Jun nodded. “Go see Du Yao and check it out. Tomorrow morning, we can go see Chu Shan He together. That shouldn’t affect you being back by noon for dream therapy with that girl.”

“But didn’t we schedule an appointment with the OB-GYN for tomorrow afternoon?” Lin Xian reminded.

“She’s an expert we brought over from the Capital City for the final check-up. I wanted her to give you a thorough examination. The appointment’s in the afternoon, and I’ll come with you.”

Zhao Ying Jun shook her head and smiled softly. “I know how to weigh priorities, Lin Xian. At such a critical moment, if we could really get something crucial from that girl named Mai Mai, we might still have time to change the future.”

“So, don’t worry about me. It’s just a check-up; I’ll go by myself. The driver will take me anyway.”

“Alright then,” Lin Xian agreed, feeling the urgency to experiment within the dream. “You rest early. I’ll go to Du Yao’s lab.”

…

It was now 10 p.m., and the stars filled the sky. Lin Xian left Zhao Ying Jun’s house and got into the car driven by Xiao Li, heading to the research institute.

As soon as he entered, he saw Du Yao. They walked along the corridor, talking as they went.

“It’s all thanks to our conversation the other day,” Du Yao said, turning her head with a smile. “You gave me an amazing idea. I started from that inspiration, stimulating the brain’s memory and emotional regions, and sure enough, I found a similar feedback signal. Then, following the rough draft you gave me, I managed to develop the Brain Neural Electric Helmet.”

She pushed open a door to one of the labs, leading Lin Xian inside. The lab was empty. Du Yao explained that she only had four PhD assistants, but none of them worked on the core part, so the helmet remained a secret known to no one else.

Lin Xian looked at the desk. On it lay a mechanical device that resembled an octopus. It was quite different from the helmet design he had imagined, but it was still clear enough—the idea was to put this “octopus” on someone’s head.

He picked it up and weighed it in his hands. It was pretty heavy.

“What powers this thing?” Lin Xian asked.

Du Yao pointed to the nearby power cord. “It runs on standard 220V household electricity. If you prefer, it can be battery-powered too, though that would require a different engineering solution, which isn’t my expertise.”

Lin Xian nodded. It could run on batteries, which was good enough. Later on, he could use a micro nuclear battery or something larger to power it, giving it portability and long-term storage—perfect for an underground hibernation base.

“How do you use this thing? Is it complicated?”

“Not at all,” Du Yao said, pointing at the single button in the middle of the helmet. “It’s very simple. Just fasten the part underneath, and you’re set. The design you gave me has a brilliant mechanism for automatic position correction during the electric shock—it’s pretty impressive.”

“Can I… try it out?” Lin Xian asked.

“Best not to,” Du Yao said with a smile. “First of all, I mentioned that you need to fasten it properly because the sensation during the electric shock is very unpleasant. People naturally resist or convulse. I’d imagine when we use it on long-term hibernators, they’d need to be strapped into a restraint chair too.

“Secondly, you haven’t suffered from hibernation-induced memory loss. Even if you use it, it won’t do anything for you. If you’re hoping to use this helmet to retrieve some forgotten memories… well, it’s not going to work.

“The mechanism of natural human forgetting is much more complex and amazing than hibernation memory loss. So, this Brain Neural Electric Helmet can only be used to treat memory loss caused by long-term hibernation… it has no effect on other types of memory loss.”

“The pity is that the longest any volunteer has been in hibernation at the National Research Institute is just under two years—not long enough to reach the memory loss point. So, we haven’t had anyone for clinical trials.”

It was true. From now until eight years later, this Brain Neural Electric Helmet wouldn’t be of much use. It wouldn’t be until 2033, when the first batch of volunteers hit ten years in the hibernation chamber, that they’d begin to lose their memories.

But for now…

Lin Xian thought of Mai Mai, the author who wrote the extraordinary “Devouring Heaven Demon Emperor.”

Tomorrow, he’d test it on her.

…

The next morning, Lin Xian arrived at Chu Shan He’s estate, carrying an album and videotape from Zhang Yu Qian’s coffin, as well as Gao Yang’s old Panasonic player. He was accompanied by Zhao Ying Jun.

Lin handed the album to Chu Shan He and Su Xiu Ying, explaining where it had come from.

“This… Shan He… this…” Su Xiu Ying stared at the album, at the girl who looked just like their daughter, Chu An Qing, even down to the tear-shaped mole.

“This… this is An Qing! This is An Qing!”

Even though Chu Shan He was used to the unpredictable twists of the business world, the sight of the album made his hands tremble and his mouth fall open.

“Lin Xian, what’s going on here?”

“I’m sorry, Mr. Chu,” Lin Xian began. “Honestly, I should have shown you this album a lot sooner, but it didn’t seem right back then. I also hadn’t found a working player for the videotape yet. I wanted to wait until I had made some progress in finding An Qing, so I could give you a clearer picture.”

He was telling the truth. If he had shown Chu Shan He the album earlier, it would have only increased their anxiety. At that time, he knew nothing about the Millennial Stake and could only raise questions without answers, adding to Chu Shan He and Su Xiu Ying’s burden.

But now, after a year of hard work, Lin Xian understood much more. At least now, he could offer them a plan and some hope for rescuing Chu An Qing.

“The girl in the pictures looks exactly like Chu An Qing. She was born in 1980, and her name was Zhang Yu Qian…”

Lin Xian explained Zhang Yu Qian’s background and the events of the night she disappeared.

He then connected the videotape player to the TV and played Zhang Yu Qian’s nightmare video for them.

“A nightmare…” Su Xiu Ying watched the tape, her eyes wide with worry. “An Qing… An Qing used to say she had nightmares all the time. But whenever we asked what they were about, she’d say she couldn’t remember.”

“We never took it very seriously. Nightmares happen to everyone, and as long as it didn’t bother her day-to-day life, we thought it wasn’t important.”

Lin Xian nodded. “An Qing mentioned her nightmares to me during the New Year’s banquet. I didn’t think much of it at the time either, but after watching this videotape, I realized just how significant it was.

“It seems that every Millennial Stake girl has similar nightmares every night—and forgets them entirely within seconds of waking up.

“Only by waking them suddenly, as Zhang Yu Qian’s friend did, can we get any hints about what’s happening.”

Su Xiu Ying listened closely, her face pale. But Chu Shan He sat on the sofa, leaning forward with a troubled look.

He raised his head and pointed at the player. “Lin Xian, could you rewind the tape a bit? I want to see the last part again—when she starts speaking nonsense after waking up.”

Since the machine didn’t have a remote, Lin Xian got up and rewound the tape manually.

On the TV, Zhang Yu Qian was being shaken awake by her friend. She rubbed her eyes and, still half-asleep, mumbled something about 1952, a mushroom cloud, a newspaper, and Einstein.

“Right here!” Chu Shan He stood up abruptly, pointing at the screen.

“An Qing… An Qing did something like this too! I remember now!”

“What?” Lin Xian stood up too. This was a crucial clue.

“Mr. Chu, are you saying that An Qing mumbled like this after waking up too?”

Chu Shan He nodded solemnly, looking at Lin Xian. “It happened when An Qing was little—probably when she was just starting middle school, during summer vacation. One afternoon, I came home and found An Qing asleep on the sofa with the TV still on.

“We were expecting guests, so I shook her awake, telling her to go sleep in her room. The first nudge didn’t work, so I shook her harder the second time.

“I scolded her, ‘Sleeping so deeply in the middle of the day—have you been staying up all night playing on your phone?’ And then…”

Chu Shan He closed his eyes, recalling his daughter, and took a deep breath.

“And then An Qing mumbled, ‘Fireworks…’ I asked her what she meant, and she said again, ‘Want to see… fireworks…’ Then she woke up completely, looking confused, and just like Zhang Yu Qian in the video, she said she didn’t remember anything.”

Su Xiu Ying turned to her husband, surprised. “That happened? Why didn’t you ever tell me?”

Chu Shan He sighed. “It didn’t seem like a big deal, did it? Besides, we pampered An Qing so much—it’s not like she hadn’t seen fireworks before.

“We took her to Disneyland on opening day, and she went countless times after that, with friends or relatives. She must have been bored of the castle fireworks by now. Did An Qing ever mention desperately wanting to see fireworks?”

Su Xiu Ying thought for a moment. “Not really… An Qing rarely asked us for anything, and we tried to fulfill every wish she had.”

Their voices began to fade in Lin Xian’s ears.

Fireworks.

Another clue—and a familiar one.

On the last day of the Seventh Dream, Lin Xian had asked CC:

“If you could make it to your 20th birthday, what’s the one thing you’d want most as a gift?”

Without hesitation, CC had answered,

“Fireworks. I’d really love to have a set of fireworks, just for me.”

That answer had surprised Lin Xian. He hadn’t expected CC’s one definitive birthday wish would be something as simple as fireworks.

When asked why, CC said she didn’t know either.

“I’ve just always had this obsession with fireworks.”

Obsession.

Like Rhine Cat for Zheng Xiang Yue, like the Seventeenth Spacetime Assassin’s name, like Angelica’s revenge—all obsessions.

Lin Xian couldn’t figure out the origin of this obsession with fireworks.

But today…

After what Chu Shan He said…

More clues about the Millennial Stake were coming together.

Chu An Qing dreamed of fireworks. CC was obsessed with fireworks. And Zhang Yu Qian’s nightmare had those bizarre montages.

It was becoming increasingly certain:

These Millennial Stake dreams might all be fragments of the same dream, the same scene, the same story.

“Mr. Chu, Aunt Su,” Lin Xian snapped back to reality, looking at them solemnly.

“You both saw Zhang Yu Qian’s reaction on the videotape. And you heard what I said to Ying Jun earlier. It’s becoming clearer and clearer that something crucial happened in 1952 that caused the Millennial Stake to appear, leading to all these strange occurrences.”

“That’s why Ying Jun and I came to see you today. Ying Jun may have already mentioned it—after our child is old enough, we plan to enter the hibernation chamber and head to 2234. From there, we will use the Time Travel Machine to go back to 1952 to search for answers.”

“At the same time, I’ll do everything in my power in 1952 to find clues to bring An Qing back home to you.”

“The promise I made here, I have never once forgotten. So… I hope you can give me a bit more time. I’ll keep my word and bring An Qing back.”

Chu Shan He walked over and patted Lin Xian on the shoulder.

“Lin Xian, your Aunt Su and I have always believed in you, and we’ve never doubted you for a moment.

“We know exactly what kind of person you are, which is why I never called or pushed you this past year. I know how hard you’ve been working.”

“Ying Jun has visited a few times, and we understand some of the situation. To be honest, seeing this videotape and album today makes me feel a bit more at ease.”

“But… Zhang Yu Qian is Zhang Yu Qian. An Qing is An Qing. I will never rush you, Lin Xian. I just hope that one day, when we wake up from the hibernation chamber…”

“It’s our real An Qing you’ve brought back to us.”

Lin Xian nodded. “I understand.”

He knew what Chu Shan He meant.

Chu Shan He didn’t want just any Millennial Stake—he wanted Chu An Qing, with her memories, her past.

Even though Chu Shan He knew that, in three years, somewhere in the world, a little girl who looked exactly like Chu An Qing would be born—he still refused to stay in this era any longer.

It made no difference. Even if she looked identical, she wouldn’t be An Qing.

Besides, even if they found her, what was the point?

The Millennial Stake girl born in 2028 would still vanish in 2048, becoming stardust. Would they really want Chu Shan He’s heart to break again?

“Don’t worry, Mr. Chu.” Lin Xian looked into Chu Shan He’s eyes, resolute. “Ying Jun and I decided on hibernation and on going back to 1952 because we’re fully committed.”

“It’s not just about bringing An Qing back. There are many important things I need to do. I won’t let everyone down.”

The apocalypse. Human extinction. The World-Ending White Light.

These were all things Lin Xian had to solve, step by step. He had to get to the root of it all.

If they didn’t stop the mastermind behind everything, nothing would change.

Another Millennial Stake would die.

Another World-Ending White Light would arrive.

Another human extinction event would come.

They had to find the source. Only by finding it and eliminating it could they save everything.

Chu Shan He walked back to Su Xiu Ying. He sat down on the sofa, taking her hand and looking at Lin Xian.

“When the Hibernation Law was passed in X Country, your Aunt Su and I discussed it, and we decided to settle things here and go into hibernation.

“In a world without our daughter, every breath is heavy, and it’s hard for us to breathe… We just want to sleep until you bring our daughter back; life without An Qing is just too hard.”

“We were planning to let you know when everything was ready, but since you’re here today, we’ll tell you now.”

He paused, looking at Su Xiu Ying, then continued.

“We’ve saved plenty of money in our hibernation account, enough for a lifetime. I plan to hand over Shan He Group to you. Consider it our way of supporting your plans, providing what help we can.

“You’re doing something amazing. I don’t know all the details, but I know it’s something truly admirable.

“I don’t understand the research behind the Time Travel Machine, but I imagine it’s costly. I know you probably don’t need the money, but this is something we want to do for you. Please don’t turn us down. Our only way to help is financially.

“Do whatever you want with Shan He Group. Merge it with your company if you wish. Once I entrust it to you, I fully trust you, and I won’t concern myself with it anymore.

“Lin Xian, don’t let this weigh on you. We’ll be waiting in the hibernation chamber. When you’ve found An Qing, bring her to wake us up.”

Chu Shan He smiled, the thought of such a happy moment bringing a rare lightness to his face.

“My greatest wish now is that when I open my eyes… I’ll see my daughter’s smiling face.”