Genius Club

Lin Xian leaned back in his chair, setting down his chopsticks, and fell into a thoughtful silence. In front of him, a plate of boiled peanuts mixed with sesame paste gluten noodle lay untouched. The sight made him think of how a poor rural woman, constantly bullied, managed to make a living from barren land to raise her son, Zhou Duan Yun. It sounded like a sad story, but it was a harsh reality showing a mother’s fierce determination.

“Did he really win the lottery?” Lin Xian asked carefully.

“Absolutely!” Zhou Le replied eagerly without hesitation. “He definitely hit the jackpot! How else do you explain his sudden wealth? You wouldn’t believe how rich Zhou Duan Yun became!”

“Did Zhou Duan Yun himself ever admit to winning?” Lin Xian asked further.

“He wouldn’t dare!” Zhou Le laughed, refilling his cup and taking a big gulp. “Who would admit to winning the lottery? Everyone would be on your doorstep asking for money! The whole village believed he won, even though he denied it. His denials only made us more convinced he was lying.”

“That must have been a turning point in his life,” Zhou Le mused, munching on some peanuts. “Luck has a way of kicking in when you hit rock bottom. He got into a prestigious university and won the lottery, turning into a local celebrity. No one dared to bully him then. Instead, people started giving him gifts, hoping he’d remember them when he made it big.”

“What a dramatic turn of events,” Lin Xian commented thoughtfully. “Weren’t you skeptical about his university acceptance? His grades were terrible; how did he manage to get into such a good school?”

“At first, we were all skeptical,” Zhou Le admitted. “But then our teacher sent out a message congratulating everyone on their school placements. It seemed legitimate.”

That explanation shed light on the dramatic changes in Zhou Duan Yun’s life. His lies, initially meant to protect him and his mother from ridicule, had completely altered how the villagers treated them. They went from being outcasts to being respected almost overnight. In essence, nothing had changed about their circumstances, yet everything had changed in the villagers’ eyes.

Life was peculiar in that way. Admit to winning the lottery, and no one believes you. Deny it, and everyone assumes you’re hiding something. Lin Xian pondered how Zhou Duan Yun must have felt, living a life based on lies, accepting gifts, and pretending to attend university.

Was it the sweet taste of deceit that colored his success? Or did the changing attitudes of the villagers reveal their true character to him? Zhou Duan Yun seemed to be a man living behind several masks.

“So what happened after that?” Lin Xian asked, eager to know more.

“I’m not sure,” Zhou Le shrugged, sipping his drink. “Zhou Duan Yun and I weren’t really friends. Lots of people in the village bullied him, and I… I never stood up for him. We weren’t close.”

“Looking back, I feel guilty. We were classmates; I should’ve helped him. But you know how it is—by the time you realize you should’ve done something, it’s too late.”

“Some things seem significant when you’re young, but trivial as an adult. And sometimes, it’s the opposite.”

Zhou Le set down his cup, wiping his mouth. “Got nothing to do this afternoon? Come over to my place.”

“I’ll pass,” Lin Xian declined casually.

“Come on, let’s go see Zhou Duan Yun’s mansion!”

“Mansion?” Lin Xian’s interest was piqued.

“Yeah, he built it last year after making it big. He bought the land next door and built a nine-story mansion for his mom! It’s like a castle!”

Curiosity won over Lin Xian. He hadn’t discussed enough with Zhou Le and wanted more details about Zhou Duan Yun’s life post-university, the years that still remained shrouded in mystery. Lin Xian knew the stories about the lottery win and the university were lies. Zhou Le didn’t know, but Lin Xian did. The supposed startup money from the lottery was another lie.

Layer upon layer of lies—that seemed to define Zhou Duan Yun’s life. Everything appeared fake, but surely there had to be some truth somewhere?

“Alright,” Lin Xian motioned for the waiter to bring the bill. “Let’s head to your place then.”

The journey to Zhou Duan Yun and Zhou Le’s remote village involved an hour on a bumpy bus followed by a taxi ride.

As they approached the village, Lin Xian could already see the towering structure from a distance.

It was enormous, not just a villa but a veritable castle, rivaling even the grandeur of Chu Shan He’s private club from the outside—though the inside might tell a different story.

“Isn’t it spectacular?” Zhou Le beamed, pointing at the structure as they exited the taxi. “Now, Duan Yun’s family’s status in the village is unmatched. After Zhou Duan Yun made it big, he didn’t forget about his roots. He improved roads, built temples, and helped the villagers make money. To them, he’s more important than the village chief!”

In a world driven by self-interest, Lin Xian mused, those who bring prosperity are kings.

As they neared the castle, they saw a large courtyard, almost bare except for a small, white-haired woman tending to it.

“Auntie!” Zhou Le called out warmly.

The woman, clad in clean but faded clothes, straightened up with a smile, her face creasing into a web of wrinkles. “Ah, Zhou Le!”

“Lin Xian, this is Zhou Duan Yun’s mother,” Zhou Le introduced them. Then to her, he added, “Auntie, this is our high school classmate, Lin Xian. We were just passing by and thought we’d say hello.”

Her eyes lit up at that. Standing up, she wiped her hands on her apron and opened the gate. “Oh, a classmate of Duan Yun! Come in, come in!”

“No need, Auntie,” Lin Xian began, intending only for a quick visit.

But Zhou Le had other plans and soon they were inside. The house was immaculate but felt too vast, lacking warmth.

“Auntie, weren’t there a lot of servants here before?” Zhou Le asked.

“I’m not used to having so many people around,” she replied, smiling as she brought them water. “After the New Year, I let them go. It’s quieter now, but cleaning this big house is a challenge.”

Lin Xian surveyed the opulent living room, his eyes catching on various expensive-looking paintings and calligraphy. However, one spot held a framed, wrinkled A4 printout, starkly contrasting with the surrounding luxury.

He walked over to it, unsurprised to find it was the framed copy of Zhou Duan Yun’s university acceptance letter.

To her, this was the most precious item in the house. The other frames were dusty, but this one was immaculate, cleaned diligently.

Lin Xian stood there, staring at the forged acceptance letter, pondering how long she spent each day admiring it, how many years she had felt pride in it.

“Which university did you graduate from?” she asked him.

“Donghai University,” Lin Xian responded.

“Donghai… That’s far from Hunan University, isn’t it?”

Lin Xian nodded. To someone who had perhaps never left the village, the distance seemed vast. To her, Hunan University was the pinnacle of academia.

“Did Zhou Duan Yun come home for the New Year?” he asked.

“Not this year,” she replied, shaking her head. “He’s been very busy. He usually comes home every year, not just for the New Year, but often. He’s a very filial son, always calling me, buying me things, and sending goodnight messages every night. I’ve never heard of anyone else’s child doing that.”

“Every night?” Lin Xian was surprised. “Every single night?”

He himself found the idea daunting. He knew his own mother would appreciate it, but it felt somewhat awkward to him. In this regard, he admired Zhou Duan Yun. Sending a nightly goodnight was perhaps harder than building a nine-story mansion.

“Yes, every night! Look!” she exclaimed, showing him her phone and the WeChat chat with Zhou Duan Yun.

Lin Xian took the phone. Every night without fail, a message read: “Mom, good night.”

Sometimes, “Rest early, Mom.” or “I’m going to bed, Mom.”

He scrolled quickly through the chat history. The conversation was repetitive, almost exclusively goodnight messages. For anything important, they would call. Who uses WeChat to chat with their mom all day? Certainly not Lin Xian.

“Every night, without fail,” Lin Xian muttered, scrolling back through the messages, which soon blurred into a sea of similar short texts. He was already back to July 2022, and still, it was just goodnight messages.

Curious, he continued scrolling, eager to see when this routine started.

“I wait for his goodnight every night before I sleep,” she said, her smile broadening as she looked at Zhou Le. “I always tell him, Zhou Duan Yun is the best child in the world!”

Lin Xian reached back to 2021, still encountering the same nightly messages. It seemed endless.

Then, suddenly, amidst the short texts, two long messages stood out. Lin Xian stopped scrolling and went back.

He was intrigued. Why these long messages all of a sudden?

He found them from October 17, 2021, at 4:26 PM:

“Mom, I can’t hide anymore… Call the police for protection! The person trying to kill me is Ji Xin Shui!”