Genius Club

Chapter 488: A Talk Worth Having

This novel is translated and hosted on Bcatranslation

Lin Xian squinted, staring at his reflection in the motorcycle’s rear-view mirror. Something was off. This face...

He had seen it every day since he was a kid, countless times in the mirror. So he knew—without a doubt—there was no spacetime rejection reaction happening. His face was exactly the same as before he’d traveled through time. No changes at all.

His eyes, for instance. Every spacetime traveler, or anyone from another timeline, had blue eyes. It was a clear and undeniable sign—a rule of time travel. Even the biological samples brought by the false Yu Xi, the spacetime particles, and the starry dust that travelers left behind when they disappeared, they all turned blue. It was like a signature, an imprint of another time. Yet Lin Xian’s eyes showed not the slightest hint of blue.

It wasn’t what he expected. In fact, it was the strangest thing he had encountered since arriving here, in 1952.

It wasn’t scientific. It wasn’t supposed to happen. Lin Xian believed in the laws of spacetime. They were constants, unbreakable. And yet, it seemed they had... failed?

“Have the laws of spacetime... failed?” Lin Xian muttered, standing up and gazing toward the sunrise in the distance.

It was October 28th, 1952. Brooklyn. The chill in the air hit him now for the first time, seeping through his thin otter suit and trousers. It was almost winter, and without adrenaline pumping through him from running, the cold was creeping in, settling into his bones. Everything he believed seemed to be unraveling—the rules of time and reality becoming vague and unclear.

It was a cold unlike any he had ever felt. A real, biting cold.

The spacetime laws had always been his anchor. They were a certainty, a foundation. If those laws could fail, what else might go wrong? Could this timeline still be considered normal?

“No, no, no. Let’s think this through,” Lin Xian muttered, trying to bring some order to his racing thoughts. First things first: he was sure he had traveled through time. From Donghai in 2234 to Brooklyn in 1952. That was certain. The “kite string” at the back of his head was proof enough—a connection to his original timeline. An invisible line that connected him to his time in the future. He could sense it, like a tether pulling on his thoughts. If he focused, he was confident he could follow that string and return home.

He had the ability to travel back—that much was clear. It was the nature of the entangled spacetime particles. Anyone who had them could feel that connection. But then, why hadn’t his eyes changed? Why hadn’t there been the usual spacetime rejection? His appearance should have altered, his eyes should be blue by now, and if he died, he should disappear into blue starry dust. Those were the rules.

But none of it had happened.

“There are only two possibilities,” Lin Xian said, his thoughts sharp and focused. “Either the spacetime laws have failed in 1952, or they haven’t taken effect yet.”

He glanced at CC, who was standing in the narrow alley nearby, staring at him like he was insane. His gut told him it was the latter.

[Because the first millennial stake hasn’t been hammered down yet, history hasn’t been locked, and therefore the spacetime laws I know haven’t activated.]

“That must be it,” Lin Xian whispered to himself. “Only this reasoning can explain why this is happening.”

He remembered Yellow Finch’s cryptic hints—the millennial stakes were there to lock history in place. It was only after that that the spacetime rejection and forced avoidance would take effect.

This was something new—something he could only understand by experiencing time travel for himself. He realized that until CC turned twenty and the first millennial stake was hammered into the river of time, history wouldn’t be locked. And without locked history, spacetime rejection wouldn’t happen.

Lin Xian’s thoughts became clearer. History locking was a prerequisite for spacetime rejection. Without history being locked in place, there could be no spacetime rejection. This deepened his understanding of the spacetime laws.

He looked at CC again, who was staring at him, obviously thinking he was completely out of his mind. Lin Xian ignored her puzzled expression.

Once CC’s 20th birthday arrived, the first millennial stake would be hammered down, and the river of time would be forever altered. It would create spacetime fissures, officially locking history in place. And after that, every 24 years, another stake would be driven in to continue locking history as it was meant to be.

“I understand now,” Lin Xian said, a sense of clarity washing over him. He finally understood the millennial stakes and their purpose. Only by driving those stakes could history be locked, preventing spacetime travelers from altering it. It was all about stability—maintaining world lines. Without those stakes, everything was still in flux.

He realized that, right now, he could make changes to history. Because the first millennial stake hadn’t yet been hammered down, there were no rules preventing him from altering events.

But when exactly was the first stake hammered into place? Lin Xian turned back to CC, who was leaning against the wall in the alley, watching him warily.

“Hey, what do you want?” CC said, her voice filled with suspicion. “Is there something wrong with your head?”

Lin Xian ignored her tone, his own voice serious. “CC, I need to ask you something important. How old are you now?”

“Nineteen,” she replied, narrowing her eyes.

“Is your 20th birthday soon? In the next month or two, maybe?”

CC blinked, looking confused. “How do you know that? Hey... you’re really weird. You know my childhood nickname, CC, and now my birthday too? Don’t tell me the girl you know, the one who looks like me, has the same birthday on December 24th?”

Lin Xian shook his head. “No, not at all. But so you’re a Christmas Eve baby? That’s quite the day.”

“Not really,” CC said, shrugging. “I don’t even know my real birthday. I’ve told you before, I was abandoned at Granny’s orphanage. The note they left only had my name. Granny picked December 24th as my birthday because that’s when she found me.”

“It’s not my real birthday, but who cares? As long as I celebrate once a year and grow older, it’s all the same.”

CC’s eyebrows twitched, and she slapped his hand away, giving him a half-hearted high-five instead. “Don’t call me boss,” she muttered.

“Then what should I call you?” Lin Xian asked, still smiling.

“Just call me CC,” she replied.

For a moment, Lin Xian stood there, dazed. This scene seemed oddly familiar—like something out of a dream. Three years ago, or maybe two hundred years ago, depending on how you looked at it. He’d first met Big Cat Face and CC in a dream, and they’d gotten caught up in a bank robbery—the beginning of everything.

The memory flashed before his eyes: the failed attempt to crack the safe, the way he’d offered his hand to CC, asking her what she wanted to be called. She’d made the same gesture, spoken the same words.

Suddenly, Lin Xian’s stomach growled, the loud sound echoing in the narrow, quiet alley.

“...”

“...”

They stared at each other, the awkward silence stretching between them. Lin Xian knew it was embarrassing, but he couldn’t help it. It wasn’t his fault. Before he got into the time travel machine, Liu Feng and Gao Wen had told him to fast for 24 hours—preferably have an empty stomach before traveling through time. By the time he arrived, he was already starving. Then all this had happened. Running, escaping—he’d used up all his energy.

Now his stomach was staging a full-on protest.

“Uh...” Lin Xian scratched his head sheepishly. “Could you, um, buy me some bread? I promise I’ll pay you back.”

CC’s forehead twitched, and a vein popped as she glared at him. “You! You’re getting way too comfortable! And haven’t I told you a hundred times? I don’t have any money. Not a penny!”

“Then how do you usually eat?” Lin Xian asked, rubbing his stomach. “Whatever you do, I’ll do too. I’m not picky—as long as I get food.”

CC sighed, closing her eyes for a moment as if fighting the urge to leave him right there. But she’d already promised to help him one last time. She couldn’t back out now.

She took a deep breath and looked at him. “Are you a Christian?”

“No,” Lin Xian replied, shaking his head. “I’m an atheist. I believe in science.”

“You don’t believe in Jesus?” CC asked.

“Nope,” Lin Xian said plainly. “Atheist means I don’t believe in anything. Just science.”

“Well, that’s a shame,” CC muttered, shaking her head. “No food for you, then.”

“Huh?” Lin Xian blinked in confusion. “Wait, what does being a Christian have to do with food? Are you saying if I believed in Jesus, I’d get fed?”

“Exactly,” CC replied, pointing toward the rising sun along the East Coast. “There’s a church near the docks. A shipyard owner donated it. If you attend the morning Mass and listen to the priest read from the Bible, you get a free breakfast afterward.”

“A lot of dockworkers weren’t Christians originally,” she continued. “But after talking with the priest, they became believers. You, on the other hand—since you’re an atheist, we won’t force you. The priest says we have to respect everyone’s beliefs.”

She waved her hand dismissively as she started walking away. “I’m off to Mass. Figure out how to feed yourself, then come find me by the docks.”

“Wait!” Lin Xian grabbed her wrist, stopping her in her tracks.

CC turned back, exasperated. “What now?”

“What did you say just now?” Lin Xian asked, his eyes intense.

CC frowned, thinking. “I said, since you’re an atheist, I’m not going to force—”

“No, not that.” Lin Xian shook his head. “Before that.”

CC blinked, tilting her head. “Before that? I said a lot of the dockworkers became believers after talking to the priest. What about it?”

Lin Xian smiled, releasing her wrist. He lifted his right hand, mimicking Jesus from the “Salvator Mundi” painting, his index and middle fingers pointing upward.

“Everyone can be converted,” he said, his voice sincere, his eyes shining. “I can talk too. I can believe in Jesus.”