Genius Club

This novel is translated and hosted on Bcatranslation

Boom! Boom! Boom!

00:42. A blinding white light flashed, right on time, swallowing everything in its wake.

…

…

…

Lin Xian opened his eyes in the guest bedroom of Zhao Ying Jun’s house. He shivered slightly; the air conditioner must have been set too low. He felt cold all over.

October had passed in a haze for him. He had spent the entire month in the Ninth Dream, wandering endlessly, searching for a living soul—anyone who could give him a hint, any trace of life.

He just needed one person.

At first, he’d wanted to find CC or Big Cat Face. Eventually, he gave up on that hope and just wished to find anyone at all. But as he uncovered the motorbike and expanded his search, an ominous feeling settled in his heart.

Though he tried to brace himself, the sense of dread was difficult to shake.

The Ninth Dream had only two possible outcomes: it was either better than the Eighth Dream or far worse. Lin Xian had experienced terrible dreamscapes before. He knew he could handle whatever was coming.

But this time, the problem was different.

None of the worlds he’d seen before, not even the worst of them, had ended in humanity’s extinction.

“This is tough,” he whispered to himself, lying back on his pillow.

In the past, he had used the knowledge from dreamscapes to alter the present, rewrite the future, and shift the timeline. If the future of the Ninth Dream was truly what he feared—with no human beings left—then it was a dead end.

A deadlock, like the Fourth Dream, where every path led to a struggle with no way out.

Even if humanity had become extinct, even if there were only records or traces left behind, that would have been something. But here, the frustrating part was…

It was impossible to tell what exactly had happened in the year 2600. All he knew was that the great disaster had shattered the world and wiped out human civilization so completely that almost nothing useful remained.

Lin Xian sat up and headed to the kitchen. In the warm glow of the thermal box, a cup of milk was waiting—heated by Zhao Ying Jun for him.

By now, that cup of milk had become their silent tradition, a comforting habit.

Lin Xian picked up the cup and drank it down in one go.

Today, in his dream, he had ridden the motorbike for a thousand kilometers. His back ached from the journey, and still, he hadn’t found a sign of life—not even a faint trace that anyone had ever been there. ŕ

He was nearly certain now about the state of the future world in the Ninth Dream.

Thud.

After finishing the milk, he set the glass down on the table and went to the study. He turned on the lamp, took out some paper, and uncapped a pen.

“There are a few crucial mysteries about the Ninth Dream,” he murmured, jotting down his first question.

“1. Even in a timeline where Copernicus has died, humanity’s technological progress is still slow.”

The most direct evidence was the nuclear battery motorbike he’d dug up—a bike made in 2597.

In the Second, Third, and Fourth Dreamscapes, motorbikes flew freely in the sky, and Lin Xian had driven several of them himself. Back then, he hadn’t intervened much in the real world, yet future technology had advanced so much.

So why was it now, after bringing back so many advanced technologies, that progress had stalled again?

“What happened in those six hundred years?” Lin Xian pondered. There were no books, no records, and no one to ask.

For now, it was a deadlock.

He wrote down his second question:

“2. Why did humanity go extinct so completely?”

This was what puzzled Lin Xian the most.

“Even when the asteroid hit Earth and caused the extinction of dinosaurs, some survived. Many of today’s species are descendants of small dinosaurs that made it through.

Considering all possible scenarios, there should have been some survivors. Besides, the natural environment in 2624 wasn’t harsh—animals and plants were thriving. For those who survived, it shouldn’t have been impossible to continue the human race.”

Lin Xian twirled the pen in his fingers.

With only a motorbike, traveling a thousand kilometers in ten hours was his limit. But that distance was enough.

Chongqing was only about a thousand kilometers from Donghai—like driving across the country without seeing a single person, a piece of trash, a wisp of smoke, a house, or a farm along the way.

If that was the case, the only explanation that made sense was that humanity had vanished completely.

“Even if people were living underground, there would still be buildings and garbage on the surface,” Lin Xian reasoned. “And if they were hiding from a disaster, the surface environment is great now—fresh air, clear skies—why not come back up?”

That theory could be ruled out.

All living things needed sunlight. Unless the surface was uninhabitable, like in the movie “The Wandering Earth,” there was no reason for people to stay underground.

Lastly, he wrote down his third question:

“3. The great disaster of 2600 was man-made. Who caused it?”

“It was probably Galileo,” Lin Xian said softly, “But this time, the destruction was far worse than in 2400. It wiped out humanity entirely.

“The micro nuclear battery produced in 2401 showed that the great disaster of 2400 hadn’t happened in the Ninth Dream’s timeline. Earth was intact.

“So… did Galileo change his mind or strategy because of something or someone and delayed the disaster by two hundred years?”

Lin Xian thought for a while and nodded. It was possible. Very possible.

He remembered the last Genius Club meeting. When they discussed a “global catastrophe,” Galileo had seemed evasive, pretending to know nothing and even looking a little anxious.

“I’ve got a lead,” Lin Xian said, rubbing his chin.

If Galileo had changed his plan because of something, that “something” was probably…

“Galileo, being naturally suspicious, must have thought his plan was exposed.”

It made a lot of sense.

Galileo had always believed his future plans were well hidden, that no one knew. And to be fair, he hid it well.

Even with Lin Xian’s “God’s perspective,” he couldn’t find a flaw in Galileo’s questions, and he never had solid proof.

But by chance, Miss Da Vinci had casually asked a question, and it had hit the mark, revealing Galileo’s secret.

Afterward, Lin Xian had gone out of his way to ask Da Vinci for a private conversation after the meeting…

“Galileo is the kind of person who would believe that Da Vinci and I had figured out his plan for a global catastrophe in 2400,” Lin Xian said. “So he changed his plan and delayed the disaster by two hundred years.”

That was one theory.

There was also another possibility.

If Galileo had changed his plan because of someone, there was only one person it could be…

Miss Da Vinci.

“Let’s make a bold guess,” Lin Xian closed his eyes and imagined, “Maybe something unpleasant happened between Galileo and Da Vinci—a conflict, perhaps—and Galileo ended up killing her. For some reason, he delayed the disaster by two hundred years.”

As for the exact reasons, Lin Xian had no idea.

He didn’t know Galileo or Da Vinci very well. Apart from sensing Galileo’s deep feelings for Da Vinci, he knew little about them.

“If that was the case, then why delay the disaster by two hundred years?”

Lin Xian pondered.

Galileo believed humanity needed to regain its lost “fighting spirit,” while Miss Da Vinci wanted to guide people using the power of “humanity.”

Was it possible that Galileo had been moved by Da Vinci and decided to give humanity an extra two hundred years to prove themselves?

“Ha!” Lin Xian laughed at the absurdity of his own idea.

It didn’t even make sense logically.

If Galileo had really been moved by Da Vinci, why would he kill her?

“No, that’s not right,” Lin Xian shook his head. “We’re only guessing that Miss Da Vinci is dead, but we won’t know for sure until the Genius Club meeting two days from now.”

He glanced at the digital clock on the desk. Today was October 30th, 2024, 2:27 a.m.

There were exactly two days until the next meeting.

Lin Xian made up his mind.

At the meeting on November 1st, he would arrive early to observe what was going on between Galileo and Da Vinci.

He didn’t mind being a third wheel. Even if Galileo gave him dirty looks, it was worth it to uncover the truth.

“Tomorrow, I’ll go back to the dream and try exploring north on the motorbike for another thousand kilometers,” Lin Xian stretched. “Maybe I’ll find something.”

He turned off the study lamp and tiptoed to the master bedroom.

The fluffy, round ball that was VV was still snoring, its tiny bed far too small for its chubby body. It looked nothing like a Pomeranian anymore—more like a Bichon Frise.

“Keep it up, VV,” Lin Xian whispered to the little Gluttony, cheering it on. “Maybe you’ll grow to the size of an Alaskan Malamute.”

“V…”

VV smiled in its sleep.

Being a dog seemed so simple, Lin Xian thought.

VV always had sweet dreams, while his own dreams only seemed to get worse.

He slipped off his shoes and got into bed.

Zhao Ying Jun was fast asleep. Lin Xian looked at her belly, where a small bump was growing.

Little Yu Xi was getting bigger every month.

“This is wonderful,” Lin Xian smiled, already imagining himself holding the baby, becoming a father.

“Grow up healthy,” he whispered, “Your mom and dad can’t wait to meet you.”

…

The next day, Lin Xian woke up and immediately fell back into the dream at 12:42 p.m. He found his motorbike and headed north, riding for ten hours straight in the same direction.

He estimated that he should have reached Shandong by now. Yet still, he found no one. No farmland, no houses, no smoke rising from cooking fires.

It seemed pointless to hold onto hope.

“The Ninth Dream is indeed a future where human civilization has completely collapsed,” Lin Xian muttered to himself, gritting his teeth. “This is the worst future—the absolute worst.”

Humanity was extinct.

…

The following day, Lin Xian sat at the desk in the study, preparing for the Genius Club meeting that would start in an hour.

He had already called Elon Musk, asking him to do him a favor.

“No problem, Lin Xian,” Elon said as soon as he heard the request. “Just tell me what you want me to ask.”

“Your turn comes before mine,” Lin Xian reminded him, “No matter how Einstein responds, I can adjust my question accordingly, rephrase it, or add to it.”

Lin Xian then shared the question he’d come up with.

“I need you to ask a roundabout question for me. Einstein has said that if we ask about the future of humanity and it involves another member’s plans, he’ll refuse to answer.

“So we need to be indirect. Instead of asking directly about the outcome of the future or specific events, let’s approach it sideways. Just pick a random date—say, January 1st, 2622—and ask, ‘What is the total population of the world on that day?'”

…

Elon was puzzled by the seemingly pointless question.

“I mean, sure, but what’s the point of that? It doesn’t seem like it would tell us anything valuable, no matter what the answer is.”

He thought for a moment.

“Whether Einstein says it’s billions, or just a few hundred million, what difference does it make? Population numbers fluctuate all the time. Even if the population drops to a few hundred million due to war or disaster, given a hundred years, it could easily multiply by ten.”

Hearing Elon’s doubts, Lin Xian smiled without saying anything.

That doubt was exactly what he was aiming for.

If Elon couldn’t see the point, then surely no one else could either.

He wasn’t asking about 2624 directly, because Lin Xian knew that year was special—it coincided with the end of the Millennial Stake, and it was best to avoid mentioning it.

After all, the great disaster occurred in 2600. The population in 2622 wouldn’t be much different from 2624.

In truth, Lin Xian didn’t care what number Einstein gave.

All he wanted was to know one simple truth—was humanity really extinct?

It didn’t matter if Einstein said there were tens of millions, millions, or even hundreds of thousands left. As long as there were survivors, there was hope for human civilization.

If Einstein refused to answer, that would most likely mean “extinction” was part of a member’s plan for the future. In that case, Lin Xian would take his turn after Elon and adjust his question accordingly.

After wrapping up his conversation with Elon, Lin Xian hung up.

At 00:20, he put on his VR headset, scanned the Genius Club’s golden badge, and entered the meeting hall early.

He needed to see for himself what was going on between Galileo and Da Vinci.

A flash of light, and he was back in the opulently decorated castle. He strode forward across the plush red carpet, pushed open the double doors, and stepped into the meeting hall.

“Hmm?”

Lin Xian blinked in surprise.

Nine chairs.

Nine empty chairs.

No one was there.

How odd… Galileo wasn’t here early today?

“I’ll wait a bit longer,” Lin Xian said, walking over to his seat and sitting down, waiting quietly for the next member to arrive.

Five minutes passed.

Ten minutes.

Fifteen minutes.

Still no one came.

Galileo didn’t come, and neither did Da Vinci.

Lin Xian narrowed his eyes.

Something had happened. Something had definitely happened between those two.

There was only one reason Galileo wouldn’t arrive early today—he knew Da Vinci wouldn’t be here early either.

And the only reason Da Vinci wouldn’t be here early was…

She was dead, and she wasn’t coming at all.

The brown double doors creaked open, and Elon Musk strode in, his Tesla mask concealing his face.

“Hey, Rhine! It’s pretty quiet today. Looks like it’s just you here so far?” Elon said, glancing around at the empty seats. “Where’s Galileo? Where’s Da Vinci?

“They usually arrive early—especially Galileo. I heard he’s never missed a single meeting, not once, and he always gets here early, at least half an hour before everyone else.”

It was just as Lin Xian had suspected.

Galileo never missed a meeting and always arrived early. Clearly, he cherished every opportunity to see Da Vinci.

Although Da Vinci didn’t attend every meeting, for Galileo, seeing her once a month was too precious to miss. He would never forgive himself if he lost that chance.

For both Galileo and Da Vinci not to arrive early today…

Miss Da Vinci’s fate was clear.

Before long, the double doors opened again, and Newton and Gauss entered and took their seats.

Only four of them were present.

It was 00:41:36 now. The Genius Club did not tolerate late arrivals.

That meant that neither Galileo nor Da Vinci would be attending this time.

“How strange,” Newton remarked. “Galileo missed the meeting… Ever since Miss Da Vinci joined the club, Galileo has never missed a meeting—not once, whether online or in person.”

“And…”

Newton glanced at the empty seat to his left.

“Miss Da Vinci isn’t here either…”

He didn’t say anything more, but seemed lost in thought.

Gauss, sitting across the table, nodded shakily and looked at Elon.

“This year… there are fewer… and fewer people. Da Vinci and Galileo… I hope they didn’t…”

“Hey, hey, hey!” Elon interrupted Gauss. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

“Because Turing and… Copernicus… you killed them…”

“They started it!” Elon interrupted again, “I always admit what I do. If I killed them, I say I killed them. I’m still wondering why Miss Da Vinci didn’t show up. I really enjoyed talking with her.”

Lin Xian listened quietly, not saying a word.

It seemed that, in Gauss’s eyes, Elon had now become the “number one killer” of the Genius Club.

Turing and Copernicus were both his kills, yet now Elon was taking the blame.

Then again…

Elon was happy to take the blame, even viewing it as a badge of honor.

At 00:42, Einstein ascended the rear staircase right on time. He sat down in the high-backed black chair and smiled slightly.

“What a pity,” he said, “the final meeting of the club, and only four of you showed up.”

???

Everyone looked at each other, then turned their eyes to the elderly man in the Einstein mask.

“What do you mean? I just joined, and we’re already having a farewell party?”

“The final meeting… What does that mean… Could it be…”

“I’ve never heard of anything like this before. Einstein, didn’t you say you’d always be here, no matter what?”

The only one who stayed relatively calm was Newton.

He took a deep breath, slowly straightened up, and looked at Einstein.

“Einstein, are you saying… you see a hopeful future for humanity?”

“That’s right,” Einstein said, his tone light, clearly in a good mood.

He smiled and opened his arms, as if to embrace everything before him.

“Congratulations, my friends. You’ve succeeded.

“For decades, I’ve worried about humanity’s future. I’ve seen humanity destroy itself in countless ways, and human civilization vanish for all sorts of reasons.

“I hoped to one day see a future where humanity had hope. But it never came—until today. The mission of the Genius Club is now complete—”

“I now see humanity’s brightest, most beautiful future ahead.”

…

A long silence followed, stretching for dozens of seconds.

Finally, Newton broke it with applause, laughing loudly.

“This is wonderful news! But I’m more curious…”

He glanced at the other three, then at the four empty chairs, smiling as he said:

“Whose plan succeeded?”

Elon turned his masked face toward Lin Xian, whose face was hidden behind the Rhine Cat mask.

Lin Xian looked back at him.

Neither of them spoke.

Elon knew it wasn’t him. He’d long since abandoned the Mars colonization project.

And Lin Xian knew better than anyone…

That the current worldline, the current Ninth Dream, was the worst, most hopeless future yet.

So why…

Why did Einstein say it was the brightest, most beautiful future?

Were they really seeing the same future?

“Einstein,” Lin Xian stood up, looking up at the elderly man bathed in golden light.

“What kind of future did you see?” he asked, his voice steady and determined.

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