Genius Club

“Lin Xian! Ji Lin! Come down quickly!”

Chu An Qing’s voice echoed from the bottom of the stairs.

It was late, and Lin Xian and Ji Lin were just wrapping up their conversation on the rooftop. They made their way down to the villa’s first-floor hall when—

Click!

Chu An Qing suddenly appeared in front of them, flashing a peace sign with a wide smile. The sound of a phone camera shutter filled the air.

Lin Xian and Ji Lin, a bit startled, saw Chu An Qing’s classmate holding the phone, laughing.

“Got it, An Qing! This group photo is epic! You three look like you could be on a magazine cover,” the classmate said, still chuckling.

Chu An Qing turned to them, playfully sticking out her tongue.

“You guys are always so serious. You never want to take photos, so I had to catch you off guard! It’s my first birthday party on my own; I wanted to capture some memories!”

Lin Xian laughed. That explained it. Chu An Qing had been trying to get photos all evening. But Lin Xian and Ji Lin had been avoiding the group photo. Generally, guys aren’t eager about taking pictures, especially around girls who are eighteen or nineteen. For 24-year-old Lin Xian, the age difference made it awkward. Ji Lin probably felt the same, which was why they had retreated to the rooftop.

Meanwhile, Chu An Qing hurried over to her classmate to see the photo.

In it, Lin Xian and Ji Lin looked surprised, while she struck a confident pose. The photo captured a spontaneous, warm moment.

“This birthday was a blast! You all better come next year too!”

The party soon wound down.

Chu Shan He’s driver ferried all the classmates back to Donghai University in a large van. Lin Xian and Ji Lin left in Ji Lin’s car.

As they passed Ji Lin’s dark, empty house, he murmured, “Let’s have my birthday party here, like Chu An Qing did.”

“Sure,” Lin Xian responded nonchalantly, resting against the window.

“But I’ve never thrown one,” Ji Lin added. “I never had a birthday party because I didn’t have friends… No friends meant no point in having one.”

Lin Xian looked at him. “Maybe it’s also because you lost your parents so early. If they were still around, they’d have made sure to celebrate your birthday every year.”

“By the way… since you know your parents were murdered, have you ever sought revenge? Did you find the people who killed your parents?”

Ji Lin paused. “No… I’ve been searching for my parents’ killers but haven’t found them yet. The killers of my parents and those of Xu Yun and Tang Xin don’t seem to be the same, even though they all died at 00:42. The details suggest different culprits.”

“So, there might be two groups operating at 00:42? One killed your parents, and the other killed Xu Yun and Tang Xin?” Lin Xian clarified.

“What do you think?” Ji Lin asked, turning to Lin Xian. “If there are two groups, how are they connected?”

Lin Xian crossed his arms, peering out as the streetlights flickered by, deep in thought. This mystery was complex.

From their murder methods… one group appeared more systematic, the other more impulsive.

According to his observations, Ji Lin, Ji Xin Shui, and Zhou Duan Yun were linked to the systematic group. Lin Xian was puzzled. Why complicate a murder? Their methods weren’t just elaborate; they adhered to strange rules… Rules that somehow kept him safe. It was strange. Why would they opt for such odd methods?

“Maybe…”

Lin Xian shared a new hypothesis.

“Perhaps these two groups aren’t connected at all. Maybe one group is clumsily copying the other.”

“I don’t know why they’d mimic like this, but staging a car accident at 00:42 seems messy and crude. Other than deliberate imitation… I can’t think of another logical explanation.”

Ji Lin sighed and gave a faint smile. “Sometimes, I wish we’d met earlier. It feels like we’ve known each other forever.”

“Do you feel that way too?”

“Yes,” Ji Lin nodded. “But I don’t think the two groups are unrelated. That’s why I’m determined to find these murderers.”

Ji Lin looked at Lin Xian, his determination clear. “I want to figure out who killed my parents using their help. Those responsible need to face justice.”

“Exactly,” Lin Xian agreed, locking eyes with Ji Lin. “An eye for an eye.”

Three days later, a major announcement rocked the scientific community.

Leon, a renowned member of Ghana’s National Academy of Sciences, unveiled a significant breakthrough in room-temperature superconductors. His paper detailed everything from theoretical basics to experimental results, building heavily on Xu Yun’s prior work with aluminum alloys and cryogenic fluids.

Scientific advancements often come from unexpected partnerships across various fields, sometimes even serendipitously.

Most people were clueless about the specifics of room-temperature superconductors. However, the media hailed it as a gateway to controlled nuclear fusion, sparking public excitement about a future of unlimited energy and free electricity.

“But realistically… there’s still a long way to go from room-temperature superconductors to practical nuclear fusion.”

At the Donghai Police Department, Lin Xian’s colleague, a physics enthusiast, scrolled through his phone, commenting:

“Even with room-temperature superconductors, we’re far from seeing real nuclear fusion devices. There are many technical hurdles to overcome.”

While his colleague eagerly discussed nuclear physics, Lin Xian, twirling a pen, seemed preoccupied.

He wasn’t focused on the physics talk. Instead, he pondered whether Leon’s discovery was part of the history he knew. Without the aluminum alloy and cryogenic fluid, Leon couldn’t have achieved his breakthrough. So, if this was now public knowledge, had his dream world shifted as a result?

Lin Xian suspected it had. Such a significant discovery might create ripples that alter time and space. Perhaps, 600 years in the future, humanity had mastered nuclear fusion and launched into interstellar travel.

Where would he be born then? In the ruins of Old Donghai or on a spaceship crossing galaxies? He needed to check his dream world to confirm. But there was a complication… Ji Lin was glued to the news next to him.

This guy seemed to monitor Lin Xian almost all the time, staying up to talk with him until the wee hours.

For safety, Lin Xian never dared to enter his dream world with Ji Lin around. Once in the dream, he couldn’t wake until he either died or it was 00:42, regardless of external events.

He learned this as a child when his panicked parents rushed him to the hospital late one night.

Luckily, he woke just as they arrived at 00:42, avoiding further drama. The doctors, after a full check-up, declared him simply a deep sleeper.

No matter what, Lin Xian couldn’t risk exposing any weakness to Ji Lin. Even though dying in the dream could end it prematurely, the symptoms upon waking—increased adrenaline, flushed skin, and a racing heart—were too noticeable. If Ji Lin saw those, it would spell trouble.

“I’ll find a way to slip into the dream world in a few days. There will be opportunities,” Lin Xian thought. Neither he nor Ji Lin could maintain their wary standoff forever.

Perhaps both were biding their time, waiting for the right moment to catch the other off guard and gather enough evidence to come out on top.

Lin Xian discreetly started looking up more about Academician Leon on his phone. Leon had rapidly ascended within Ghana’s scientific ranks, moving from a university lecturer to a celebrated academician, renowned for his brilliance.

He wasn’t just a genius; he was dubbed a “mad genius” for his unconventional research methods and eclectic interests. While most scientists focused on one field, Leon dabbled in whatever intrigued him. This might make him appear scattered or unfocused. Yet, he excelled in every area he explored, achieving multiple breakthroughs and earning the title of a true polymath.

This time, his success with room-temperature superconductors followed a recent invention in food safety testing. People marveled at his innovative spirit and endless energy, the epitome of the archetypal mad scientist.

Lin Xian stared at a photo of Leon.

He was surprised.

Chubby, bald, and stocky, Leon didn’t fit Lin Xian’s image of a scientist. Unlike others like Xu Yun and Liu Feng, who looked the part of researchers even at a glance.

“Regarding Leon, I’ve never seen a scientist who looks less like one,” Lin Xian remarked.

Ji Lin gave a small smile beside him. “Don’t judge a book by its cover, Lin Xian. What does Leon look like to you?”

“A chef, definitely a cook,” Lin Xian replied.

Ji Lin’s smile waned slightly, and he nodded thoughtfully. “You have keen eyes.”