Genius Club

As the morning sun began to rise, Lin Xian found himself comfortably seated in a business car provided by his company, making his way to the airport. This special arrangement came courtesy of Brother Wang, a top executive at Rhine Company.

“Whether you’re hands-on or not, you’re the face of Rhine Company,” Brother Wang had explained earlier. “It’s essential we provide you with a vehicle that reflects our image. You are, after all, the company’s business card.”

Originally, Brother Wang wanted to provide Lin Xian with the most opulent business car available, but Lin Xian had other ideas. “Why draw unnecessary attention? Plus, Rhine Company is barely off the ground. We’ve just started with the Rhine Cat brand and our main business is partnering with MX Company on the Rhine series. Most of our funding—forty billion—came as ‘investments’ from Zhao Ying Jun and Chu Shan He. It wouldn’t make sense for me to drive something overly extravagant at this stage.”

“Just find me something practical,” Lin Xian had told Brother Wang. “Zhao Ying Jun’s car model will do. It’s comfortable enough.”

“Comfortable?!” Brother Wang exclaimed, a bit taken aback by the simplicity of the request.

Lin Xian sighed, “Brother Wang, remember you’re a vice president now. Try to act the part, and keep the jokes clean. You’re as much a representative of our company’s image as I am. We should both conduct ourselves accordingly.”

Eventually, Brother Wang arranged for Lin Xian to use a business car identical to the one Zhao Ying Jun favored.

Now, cruising along the airport expressway, Lin Xian appreciated the car’s excellent shock absorption and soundproofing. He reclined in his seat, closing his eyes to ponder a puzzle from a dream he’d had the night before.

The presence of Time Bank in his third dream had initially been dismissed due to a casual remark by a store clerk. However, Lin Xian realized that the absence of records didn’t mean the safety deposit boxes were gone. What if Time Bank had undergone a merger, acquisition, or a complete restructuring? If it could go bankrupt in his second dream, why couldn’t it be bought out and rebranded in the third?

Additionally, Lin Xian considered that Time Bank might not be in the futuristic Rhine Sky City but rather in the Old Donghai area—known simply as Donghai in his third dream, where characters like Big Cat Face and Li Ning Ning resided. He had never explored the surface area extensively; Time Bank could very well be hidden in some corner of that old world.

Lin Xian was also convinced that CC, with her unique abilities to retain memories across different timelines, couldn’t have just vanished. She was extraordinary, more so than his own dream-induced capabilities. If CC appeared in his third dream, she would likely remember their shared experiences from the second dream, allowing them to pick up their friendship right where they left off.

“I need to first decode the mystery left by Zhao Ying Jun,” Lin Xian mused as he checked the date on his phone. “Once I uncover her clues, I’ll search for CC and the safety deposit box. She’s bound to reappear sooner or later.”

It was mid-June 2023, and the year was swiftly passing. According to what he’d learned in the second dream about New Donghai City, Time Bank’s most recent establishment was slated for no later than 2024.

“Time is ticking for Time Bank. It’s likely to start operations in the latter half of this year.”

Once Time Bank opened its doors in the real world, Lin Xian would be able to connect his dreams to reality, bridging past and future. That moment would mark the beginning of his journey to unravel the secrets hidden within the safety deposit box.

At the bustling airport arrival hall, Lin Xian was relieved to see Liu Feng, who had just landed with considerable luggage. The driver, already briefed, efficiently loaded the bags into the trunk. Lin Xian noted the renewed determination in Liu Feng’s eyes, a clear shift from the deep sorrow he’d carried since Qi Qi’s passing.

“I can’t just sit around waiting for Qi Qi to grant my wishes from heaven, can I? If I truly want the Universal Constant to be recognized, I must first prove its correctness and value,” Liu Feng had confided over a phone call, updating Lin Xian on his new focus. “Of course, you’re right. Lin Xian, you are my benefactor, so I’ll listen to you. I won’t publicize any research results and won’t let anyone else know about them. Although I don’t fully understand your emphasis on safety, I trust your judgment, especially after many scientists recently met with ‘accidents.'”

This had been a crucial point of advice from Lin Xian. Both he and his close colleague Ji Lin agreed on the sinister undertones of the so-called 00:42 murderer incident—they suspected that two groups were involved, with one poorly imitating the other.

The picture had since become clear. The real perpetrators at 00:42 were the members of the Genius Club, while Ji Xin Shui and his followers were mere imitators.

Lin Xian had pieced together a disturbing pattern. Both Ji Lin’s parents and Big Cat Face’s father, all mathematicians, were likely victims of the Genius Club. This led Lin Xian to a grim conclusion: the Genius Club’s primary targets seemed to be mathematicians, while Ji Xin Shui might have gone after other scientists based on his own misguided decisions. This theory wasn’t foolproof, but the supporting evidence was compelling.

Firstly, the Genius Club’s interest in the mysterious number 42, linked to the Universal Constant, was undeniable. In his second dream, Lin Xian learned they had kidnapped Big Cat Face’s father, likely out of fear related to this number. Since the Universal Constant was a profound mathematical issue, and despite the demise of most of the Seven Deadly Sins, Liu Feng’s research into this number made him a potential target. The enemy was still largely unknown, their motives shrouded in secrecy.

Therefore, extreme caution was necessary. Lin Xian had decided that only he and Liu Feng should be privy to the details of the Universal Constant 42, keeping their circle tight to avoid any leaks that could put them at greater risk.

After Liu Feng got into the business car, they headed towards Donghai University. The vehicle smoothly entered the campus, stopping in front of a new lab building. Lin Xian led Liu Feng towards the lab entrance, explaining along the way:

“This is the lab I prepared for you. This building was newly constructed by Donghai University last year and hasn’t been put to use yet. Everything inside is brand new. I just founded the Rhine Company and negotiated a collaboration with Donghai University. I won’t bore you with the details, but overall, we took a loss. But we had to bleed a little; otherwise, Donghai University wouldn’t have agreed to give us this new lab building.”

“Of course, bleeding wasn’t enough. It was Chu Shan He who coordinated, promising to build Donghai University a more luxurious and advanced world-class lab. That’s why they agreed to let us use this building.”

They reached the lab entrance, and Lin Xian pointed to the plaque next to the door: Donghai University and Rhine Company Joint Laboratory.

“Although it says ‘joint,’ it’s basically all ours. You can focus on your research here. There are many rooms inside, including labs, offices, archives, storage rooms, and single dorms. If you need to dive deep into your research, you can stay here. Also, I’ve bought all the high-end equipment you listed for me. They will be installed gradually.”

After founding the Rhine Company, Lin Xian had contacted Liu Feng to ask what level of lab and types of equipment he needed. Liu Feng, taking Lin Xian’s words “money is no issue” seriously, listed three pages of equipment, some of which were very expensive and hard to obtain. But Lin Xian, without a word of complaint, began preparing everything.

Initially, Lin Xian had expected that researching the Universal Constant wouldn’t cost much. He thought about Big Cat Face’s father in the second dream, who had researched the Universal Constant in a slum with just a shabby book and some scrap paper. He had spent over a decade and managed to figure out the Universal Constant, even understanding the true meaning of 42, leading to his demise at the hands of the Genius Club.

Comparatively, Liu Feng’s requirements seemed overly high-end and costly. However, each scientist has their own research approach and techniques. Lin Xian decided not to interfere with Liu Feng’s methods, despite being an outsider. As long as Liu Feng didn’t ask for a particle collider, the forty billion should suffice.

Moreover, although Big Cat Face’s father had eventually succeeded, it had taken him twenty years to reach that point. Lin Xian couldn’t afford to wait that long. If spending more money on equipment could expedite Liu Feng’s research, it would be worth it for Lin Xian. Money could be earned back, but time couldn’t be compressed.

After touring the entire lab building, Lin Xian brought Liu Feng to a spacious lab and asked, “You mentioned you had a new invention to show me. Did you bring it?”

Liu Feng nodded, carefully taking a foam box from his bag. He opened it to reveal a device resembling an electronic clock. It was a rectangular object with a transparent screen displaying bright yellow numbers. But it wasn’t a typical clock; the numbers didn’t change like those on a regular clock.

Instead, the screen displayed a series of zeros: 0.0000000.

Curious, Lin Xian waited to see if the numbers would change. They didn’t. He turned to Liu Feng and asked, “What is this? A clock or a counter?”

“I haven’t really decided what to call it yet. It’s a measuring instrument calibrated by the Planck Constant,” Liu Feng explained. “Since you left, I’ve been researching the Universal Constant at home. Your words left a deep impression on me. I began to think, what if the Universal Constant isn’t just a mathematical problem?”

“Once I stepped out of the mathematical framework, numerous possibilities emerged. I conducted many experiments, even borrowing a university lab to test my theories. Although all the results were incorrect or infeasible, I believe, as you said, the Universal Constant might not be incorrect itself. Instead, we haven’t discovered its correct application yet.”

Talking about his research made Liu Feng animated and talkative. “I realized that the Universal Constant might be considered incorrect within our conventional theories because it doesn’t belong to a regular, correct universe. If our universe is orderly, then the constant appears wrong. But if our universe is chaotic, the constant might be correct!”

“Do you understand what I’m saying, Lin Xian?”

“Not really,” Lin Xian admitted. “Just tell me what this device does.”

“Alright, let me put it another way,” Liu Feng said. “You know the Planck Constant, right?”

Lin Xian nodded. “Yes, it’s a concept proposed by physicist Max Planck, including Planck length and Planck time. Planck length is considered the shortest measurable length in the universe, and Planck time is the shortest measurable time unit.”

Liu Feng leaned forward, his eyes alight with the thrill of discovery. “Exactly,” he continued, his voice filled with fervor. “The specific value of the Planck Constant is 6.626 times ten to the negative thirty-fourth power. It’s the smallest, most constant unit in the universe. Every bit of energy and mass that makes up the universe is an integer multiple of this value.”

His friend, Lin Xian, nodded thoughtfully, processing the information. “So, you’re suggesting that everything in space-time, including the very scales of space and time themselves, is based on the Planck Constant. If the Planck Constant changes, it would mean a shift in the curvature of space-time. Essentially, any fluctuation in space-time—like the ripple effects from a butterfly’s wings—could change this curvature, and that change would be reflected in the Planck Constant.”

Liu Feng’s smile broadened as he saw understanding dawn on Lin Xian’s face. “You’ve got it,” he said. “This device, which resembles a clock, is essentially a detector for changes in the Planck Constant. If its readings change, that indicates a shift in space-time curvature, confirming my hypothesis.”

His excitement was palpable as he added, “If the numbers on this clock change, it would prove that space-time curvature is real and likely connected to the Universal Constants. Let’s call it the ‘Time-Space Clock.’ It’s a tool for measuring the curvature of space-time.”

Lin Xian’s mind raced to a popular anime, Steins;Gate, which explored similar ideas of world lines and space-time manipulation. These concepts, once the domain of Albert Einstein, had permeated popular culture, often used to describe parallel universes and time fluctuations.

“In layman’s terms, a world line tracks an object’s journey from the past to the future,” Lin Xian explained, connecting the dots. “If an event causes a significant shift, known as a world line divergence, it indicates a change in the space-time curvature. Even small discrepancies, like the renaming of ‘Coco Cat’ to ‘Rhine Cat,’ suggest minor shifts. More substantial transitions, such as moving between dream worlds, signify larger curvatures.”

“Exactly,” Lin Xian concluded, feeling a surge of comprehension. “Any event that impacts the future can trigger a butterfly effect, altering space-time. Your Time-Space Clock measures these shifts in space-time curvature, or world line divergence.”

Liu Feng gave him a thumbs-up, impressed. “You’re really sharp.”

“But why is the display still showing zero?” Lin Xian asked, frowning slightly.

“Because there hasn’t been any detectable change in space-time curvature yet,” Liu Feng explained calmly.

“No, there has to have been a change,” Lin Xian insisted. He remembered a crucial date. “When did you create this Time-Space Clock?”

“Early May,” Liu Feng answered.

Lin Xian grinned and patted the device. “Then it must be off. It didn’t pick up any changes on May 20th.”

He was sure of it; founding the Rhine Company on that day had marked a significant shift in their space-time, shaping a new future. If the clock missed such a major event, it could be due to precision issues or something more fundamental.

Yet Liu Feng remained adamant. “I swear, this device is precise. I calibrated it exactly to our current space-time Planck Constant. If there’s a shift, it will detect it!”

“But your baseline is flawed,” Lin Xian countered, his tone becoming more serious. “You need an external reference to measure changes effectively. Using our current space-time as the reference will always return zero, much like trying to gauge your own speed without a fixed point.”

Realization dawned on Liu Feng, and a flush of embarrassment colored his cheeks. He admitted, “You’re right. We need a reference from another space-time dimension.”

“But where could we possibly find such an object?” Liu Feng mused aloud, his mind racing through possibilities.

The tension was broken by a light, female voice from the doorway. “Who says it’s impossible?”

Both men turned to see Yellow Finch, a woman with striking blue eyes and an enigmatic smile, stepping confidently into the room.

“Lin Xian, long time no see,” she greeted, her presence promising new insights and perhaps, the solution they needed.