Genius Club

“See, I told you it responds to your voice,” Zhao Ying Jun chuckled, capturing a short video on her phone.

The small Pomeranian named VV had an unusual bond with Lin Xian. Whenever it heard his voice, it would immediately calm down and snuggle close to him, more like a cat than a dog. Initially, Lin Xian had been indifferent to the dog, but now he found himself growing fond of it.

After all, they shared the same nickname—VV. It seemed almost silly for them to remain strangers.

By now, Lin Xian had figured out most of the intricate time-space dynamics involving the various VVs. He understood almost everything, except one thing: what exactly was CC’s version of VV?

It was clear that Zhao Ying Jun had named not only the Pomeranian but also a trashcan robot model and the central brain of Rhine Sky City as VV. However, she never associated Lin Xian with the nickname VV. To her, whether now or 600 years in the future, he was always Lin Xian, never VV.

She had chosen VV as a voice-activated password carrier simply because she had recorded him calling out to VV. Her intention was to leave hints around Sky City, hoping that he would one day utter the password near the diligent trashcan robot.

Thus, fundamentally, CC’s interpretation of VV had no link to Zhao Ying Jun’s life. The only explanation was that in the future, as a mysterious bearded man, he had introduced himself as VV to CC.

This was puzzling.

Why had he not used his real name? Now knowing that VV was a dog’s name, who would use such a name for themselves? It seemed somewhat demeaning.

According to CC, in her fragmented memory from an unspecified time-space, she had been just a girl when she met VV, who was already middle-aged. Could it be possible that he had survived up to 600 years in some futuristic world?

Perhaps each dream represented a possible future, much like Liu Feng had explained regarding various time-space curvatures and world lines.

In the third dream, he died before 2026, making it impossible for him to meet CC 600 years later. But what if he altered the future even further? What about the fourth dream? The fifth? The possibilities were endless.

Navigating time-space changes was unpredictable, and Lin Xian knew he had to rely on luck and focus on becoming stronger to survive past 2026.

…

Zhao Ying Jun replayed the video several times, then pocketed her phone and stood up.

“I don’t know what to say… I’ve had it for seven years, and it still treats me like an enemy every day. Yet with you two, it’s love at first sight. You might as well take it home,” she joked.

Lin Xian laughed, knowing she was teasing, and replied, “Actually, from a biological perspective, it might be because of the scent.”

“Scent?” Zhao Ying Jun raised an eyebrow, curious.

“Yes,” Lin Xian explained as he stroked the dog’s head. “Dogs have a much sharper sense of smell than humans. They pick up on scents we can’t detect, which carry a lot of information for them. There might be something about my scent that makes it so calm and affectionate around me.”

“It’s similar to how bats and dolphins perceive sounds that humans can’t. Sounds are divided into ultrasonic and infrasonic waves based on frequency; humans can’t hear frequencies that are too high or too low. Scent works on a similar principle.”

“Though, this is just a theory. I read about it somewhere, but it could just be a fabricated story. Maybe it really does just like the sound of my voice, as you suggested.”

Zhao Ying Jun blinked, amused by his knowledge. “You’re surprisingly well-informed. But either way, you’ve really helped me out. With this video, I can play your voice to calm it down when it barks at night.”

She glanced at her watch and smiled warmly. “It’s about dinner time. There’s a great Hunan restaurant nearby. Let me treat you. Can you handle spicy food?”

“Sure,” Lin Xian responded as VV whimpered sweetly, licking his hand.

…

At the entrance of a luxurious Hunan restaurant, decorated with fiery red chilies, Lin Xian realized he hadn’t often shared meals with Zhao Ying Jun. It was their first time enjoying Chinese cuisine together; previous meals had been at banquets or Western eateries. He remembered their first encounter at a scientific charity banquet where they met Professor Xu Yun. Back then, their social statuses were worlds apart. Lin Xian, in a modest but well-fitted suit, had silently shielded Zhao Ying Jun from other men who wished to invite her to dance.

Now, their relationship had evolved beyond that of boss and subordinate. Professionally, they were equals, both presidents of their own companies. Lin Xian’s significant role in MX Company, due to the copyright of Rhine Cat and the chemical substance authorization, solidified his prominence.

Despite this change, Lin Xian’s respect for Zhao Ying Jun remained immense, not just because she had been his mentor. The memory of their 600-year-separated reunion in the third dream left him with profound feelings towards her.

He genuinely wanted to engage more with Zhao Ying Jun today, recalling the images from the projection gallery…

In 2026, Zhao Ying Jun had closed her eyes with reluctance and entered a hibernation pod. She aged alone, orchestrating the grand construction of Sky City. Even in her later years, she found solace napping in a scrapped blue Bentley, often placing the trashcan robot in the driver’s seat and playing fetch with it in her expansive, yet empty, home.

Zhao Ying Jun likely yearned for more conversation too, right?

“I missed the bold flavors of Chinese food the most while studying abroad,” Zhao Ying Jun commented as the waiter served a fiery hot chicken dish.

“Foreign food is too bland. Eating too much of it leaves you feeling uninspired.”

“Spain, right?” Lin Xian remarked, taking a sip of water.

“They do have some flavorful dishes, though they use fewer spices. Compared to many European countries, Spain is quite decent. Europe really is a culinary desert.”

Zhao Ying Jun paused, surprised. “You knew I studied in Spain?”

“Uh, isn’t that correct?” Lin Xian was taken aback. The projection gallery 600 years later had mentioned it, but was it a fabricated history?

“I did study there, but I spent little time in Spain. IESE Business School has five campuses worldwide, and I soon transferred to the Munich campus, so technically, I studied in Germany.”

Zhao Ying Jun chuckled, placing a piece of chicken on her plate. “So, you knew about Spain? I’m quite surprised. Did you research me specifically?”

“I can’t remember where I read it,” Lin Xian dodged, smoothly changing the subject.

Their conversation flowed naturally, a pleasant exchange of thoughts and memories. Previously, Zhao Ying Jun had dominated their discussions due to her extensive knowledge about Lin Xian, while he knew little about her.

Now, after touring the Rhine Sky City and viewing Zhao Ying Jun’s personal gallery, Lin Xian understood her past and even her future better than she might realize herself.

This time, their dialogue felt like chatting with an old friend.

“Do you like watching movies?” Lin Xian inquired, setting down his glass. “I noticed quite a few Blu-ray discs by your TV earlier.”

“Not much before,” Zhao Ying Jun responded. “But I’ve gotten into them recently. You talked a lot about sci-fi movies during our meals, and I started watching some at home.”

“I’ve seen a few about time and space travel, like ‘Pandorum’ and ‘Interstellar.’ They feature hibernation pods. They reminded me of Professor Xu Yun’s research.”

“In those films, people sleep in hibernation pods and wake up decades or centuries later. Time has moved on, and their friends and family have aged or died. The loneliness is overwhelming, worse than losing loved ones. It’s like being abandoned by the world and time itself. Whenever you wake from hibernation, you’re always alone.”

Lin Xian nodded silently, recalling his discussions with Gao Yang about hibernation pods being a one-way ticket to the future, with no return.

Loneliness.

Time travel sounds intriguing, but whether moving forward or backward, it invariably brings isolation.

“So…” Lin Xian looked at Zhao Ying Jun, “If one day, hibernation pods are perfected, would you use one?”

“I wouldn’t,” Zhao Ying Jun said decisively.

She set down her chopsticks and looked directly at Lin Xian. “That feeling is too lonely. I believe people belong to their own time. Leaving it makes you a ghost with no place to belong.”

“I wouldn’t use a hibernation pod. Even if the future is better and more advanced, there’s too much I cherish in this world. Chinese people have always believed in returning to one’s roots. Dying surrounded by loved ones isn’t so bad. Hibernating for centuries to a future world… you might not even have someone to see you off, and who knows where you’ll be buried.”

She smiled softly. “Isn’t that lonely? A world where only you know who you are. You might not even find a place to belong after death, your ashes scattered to the wind.”

…

Lin Xian remained silent.

He felt a bitterness in the piece of spicy chicken in his mouth. Despite its tenderness and flavor, it felt like chewing on a bone.

He chuckled dryly, lowering his head.

“What’s wrong?” Zhao Ying Jun asked, puzzled.

“Did I say something wrong?”

“No, no,” Lin Xian quickly shook his head. “You’re right. Many people think that way.”

“And you, Lin Xian?” Zhao Ying Jun blinked at him. “Would you take a hibernation pod to the future?”

Lin Xian sipped his water, swallowing the chicken.

He took a napkin and wiped his mouth.

“If it was before… I wouldn’t.”

“Just as you said, the feeling of being alone isn’t good. I don’t think my current life is bad, nor do I believe the future would bring more joy.”

“So… call me short-sighted, but I’d rather die young in the present than linger alone in an unknown, lonely future.”

Zhao Ying Jun leaned back, smiling. “Sounds like you have more to say. What about now? Are you open to the idea?”

“Yes, my thoughts have changed,” Lin Xian said softly.

“For certain people, certain things…” He looked up at Zhao Ying Jun, arms crossed.

“I am willing.”