Genius Club

This novel is translated and hosted on Bcatranslation

October 28th, 1952.

The United States was still on daylight saving time, something Lin Xian had learned during his time there for a competition. He’d discussed it with the team leader, learning that in America, daylight saving time ran from the second Sunday in March until the first Sunday in November. The Western countries seemed to have an odd way of defining time—like “the second Sunday of the month” or “the first Friday”. Lin Xian found these definitions a bit impractical, but when in Rome, right?

During daylight saving time, New York was twelve hours behind the capital city of X Country. Once wintertime arrived, the time difference would increase to thirteen hours. Since it was still October, Brooklyn was twelve hours behind, making it slightly easier for Lin Xian, who wasn’t wearing a watch.

“Is this really the cheapest motel around?” Lin Xian asked, looking doubtfully at the crumbling building in front of them. CC led him through Brooklyn’s slums, stopping at a run-down place that barely looked livable.

“I can’t say for sure if it’s the absolute cheapest,” CC shrugged, “but I can’t afford places like this anyway. Ever since the orphanage closed, I’ve been sleeping under bridges or in parks. Only people with money stay in motels.”

“People with money?” Lin Xian looked at the shabby building, half amused, half exasperated. Who would call this a place for “people with money”?

Still, considering he only had one dollar and sixty cents to his name, he probably did seem like a rich man to CC.

“Lin Xian, are you sure about this?” CC’s gaze was worried. “It’s just for one night—you could sleep anywhere, so why waste thirty cents on a room? Even if you made two dollars today, you still need to eat, and there will be other expenses. I really think you should reconsider.”

Lin Xian shook his head. “I forgot to mention something, CC. I have this… strange problem. Once I fall asleep, I can’t wake up—not at all. Even if someone hits me with a stick, I won’t wake up. I stay completely out of it.”

He continued, “So you see why I insisted on a motel. It’s about safety. If we sleep in the park or under a bridge and there’s danger, you could run, but I can’t. Someone could hurt me, and I’d never even know—I’d just die in my sleep.”

“I wouldn’t run,” CC said firmly, frowning at him. “You’ve done so much for me—bought me a meal, took me to Brooklyn Heights Promenade to see the Manhattan skyline. You’ve been good to me. How could I run if you were in danger? What kind of person would that make me?”

Hearing this, Lin Xian smiled, warmth filling his chest. It made him even more determined not to let CC sleep out on the streets.

“Alright, alright. I’m paying anyway. Let’s just get inside.”

The motel they found had a thirty-cent room—the result of a long search. Most other motels were around fifty cents, and even one for forty cents had been rejected by CC as too expensive. She insisted they had to find something cheaper, and eventually, persistence paid off.

“You were lying, weren’t you?” CC suddenly turned to look at Lin Xian before they went inside.

“Honestly… I don’t think anyone could really sleep so deeply they wouldn’t wake up,” she said skeptically.

Lin Xian chuckled and shrugged. “You can test it anytime you want.”

He wasn’t lying, though. He understood better than anyone how important thirty cents was, especially now. It was a small fortune—but safety had to come first.

Having traveled back to 1952, Lin Xian faced two main problems: money and safety. He’d thought that with Reverse Forced Evasion, his life would be guaranteed. It was his trump card, the reason he’d dared to venture into this era. But after meeting CC, he realized things weren’t so simple.

The Millennial Stake wasn’t in place, the temporal displacement hadn’t happened, and even CC hadn’t become the Millennial Stake yet. His eyes hadn’t turned blue either. Would Reverse Forced Evasion still work under these circumstances?

Lin Xian pressed his lips together and shook his head. He wasn’t sure, and he wasn’t willing to take any chances. What if it failed because the Millennial Stake hadn’t been set, or the temporal laws hadn’t been established? Would he end up dying here, in 1952, far away from home?

Lin Xian couldn’t take that risk—the price was too high.

Thinking back to the time he’d stolen a newspaper from a young Black boy and gotten chased by a dozen others, he couldn’t help but feel grateful that he managed to escape unharmed.

“Better to be cautious,” he thought, “until I’m sure Reverse Forced Evasion will work as it should.” It was also why he couldn’t use his “model citizen” tactics to earn money.

First, this was the real world, not a dream. There was no “save and reload” option—he only had one life. Second, without the protection of Reverse Forced Evasion, he couldn’t risk stirring up trouble in Brooklyn, potentially ruining his plans to save the world and uncover the truth.

With a wry smile, Lin Xian muttered, “I never thought I’d end up being a genuinely ‘law-abiding citizen.'”

CC turned to look at him. “Isn’t being law-abiding what you’re supposed to do? What else were you planning?”

“Nothing.” Lin Xian shrugged. “Just lamenting that this isn’t my home turf in Los Angeles. Alright, enough chit-chat. Let’s get that room.”

Thirty cents.

In Brooklyn’s poorest neighborhood, in the cheapest motel, in the cheapest room—there really wasn’t much to expect.

“One standard room for thirty cents,” Lin Xian said, placing two coins on the counter. The owner took them, found a key, and tossed it to Lin Xian.

Lin Xian beckoned to CC, and they climbed the creaky wooden stairs together. He knew there would be no private bathroom, no extra amenities, and certainly no TV—it was 1952, after all.

“Probably just two single beds and a shared bathroom,” Lin Xian yawned, inserting the key into the lock.

He opened the door.

Moonlight filtered through the dirty curtains, casting a pale glow across the cramped room. It was tiny—no extra furniture, no table or chair—just a single bed that took up two-thirds of the space. One step forward, and you’d hit the edge of the bed.

“Wait, hold on.” Lin Xian stared. “There’s only one bed?”

“What did you expect?” CC replied. “Thirty cents. What more did you think you’d get?”

“I thought it was a standard room—shouldn’t there be two beds?”

“Don’t worry.” CC walked past him and closed the window to keep the cold air out. Then she pointed to the floor. “I’ll sleep down here.”

“No, I should sleep on the floor,” Lin Xian insisted. “There’s no way I’m letting a girl sleep on the ground.”

CC shook her head. “I’m just glad I get to sleep somewhere warm without the wind blowing in. Besides, in the park, the police make us homeless people move multiple times a night.”

She spread her arms, looking around the narrow, shabby room with a smile. Her eyes turned into pretty little crescents. “But look at this—it’s warm, and no one will kick us out. This is going to be the best night’s sleep I’ve had in a long time. Honestly, even if thirty cents is a lot, it’s totally worth it!”

Lin Xian looked at CC’s genuine smile, feeling a mix of emotions. He could tell that CC truly liked it here—liked this grimy, run-down, damp, cramped room without a bathroom or faucet.

No wind. No one chasing them away. To CC, this was the most comfortable, happiest night she could imagine.

She was smiling so sweetly, so happily.

It made Lin Xian feel like he was in some sort of five-star hotel, a luxury villa, a slice of paradise on earth. He closed his eyes, feeling a tightness in his chest.

“You take the bed,” Lin Xian said, pulling CC away from the corner by the window and lying down on the floor, using his church coat as a blanket.

“Huh?” CC blinked at him. “No, you can’t do this, Lin Xian. You paid for the room—you should take the bed.”

“It’s settled.” Lin Xian closed his eyes. “Let’s not argue anymore.”

CC said nothing, pressing her lips together as she looked at Lin Xian lying on the floor. She had only known this strange man for a day, but she understood one thing about him: once he made up his mind, it was nearly impossible to convince him otherwise, as shown by all the odd things he had done that day.

After a long silence, she whispered, “Thank you…”Nôv(el)B\\jnn

…

CC walked quietly to the communal bathroom at the end of the dimly lit hallway. The tiles were chipped, the mirror was cloudy, and the air carried the faint smell of mildew. She splashed her face with cold water, taking a moment to feel the coolness against her skin, then returned to the small, rundown room. Once inside, she pulled the hair tie from her ponytail, letting her hair fall, and slipped the band onto her slender wrist. She took a seat on the edge of the bed, the mattress creaking softly beneath her weight.

For a moment, she sat there, staring at Lin Xian, who lay on the floor, looking rather uncomfortable. She seemed to be deciding something. Finally, she gathered her courage, took a deep breath, and spoke up.

“You know,” she began, her voice a little hesitant, “we could both fit on the bed if we squeeze. Back to back, of course. And… it’s cold tonight, so we wouldn’t even need to take our clothes off.”

Lin Xian looked up at her, his lips curving into a small smile. He shook his head and got to his feet. “No need to worry about me,” he said gently. “Haven’t you been sleeping rough for a while now? It’s probably been ages since you slept properly, right?”

She opened her mouth, about to argue, but he held up a hand, his expression warm yet firm. “So, don’t argue. You’re taking the bed tonight. Sleep well.” He turned and headed to the door. “I’m just going to wash up, use the bathroom, and check the time downstairs. I’ll be back in a bit.”

Before she could say anything else, he was out of the room, the door clicking shut softly behind him.

Lin Xian made his way to the bathroom at the far end of the second floor. It was just as run-down as he’d expected, with broken tiles and a rusty sink. He washed his face, the icy water jolting him fully awake, and then went downstairs to the lobby. There wasn’t a clock in their small room—not for thirty cents a night—so he had to come down here to check the time. The old grandfather clock stood tall in the corner, its hands overlapping, pointing straight up: midnight.

Midnight here, noon back in X Country.

Lin Xian frowned slightly, calculating. In forty-two minutes, it would be the earliest time he could enter a dream. He felt a strange mix of anticipation and unease. What would he dream about this time, now that he had traveled back to 1952, to a time when history wasn’t yet fully written? Would it be the first dream, the one where he and Big Cat Face had robbed a bank? Or the ninth dream, the one where only Mai Mai had survived?

“Feels like…” he murmured to himself, rubbing the back of his head thoughtfully. “Feels like it’s more likely to be the ninth dream again. As long as that ‘kite string’ between the future in 2234 and my timeline is still intact, nothing should’ve changed. The worldline should be the same, and the scene of August 28th, 2624, shouldn’t have shifted.”

He yawned, exhaustion settling over him like a heavy blanket. His eyelids drooped. “Yeah, time to find Mai Mai,” he muttered before heading back up the stairs.

…

Returning to the room, Lin Xian locked the door behind him. CC was already in bed, wrapped up in her clothes and the thin, worn blanket.

“Are you really going to sleep on the floor?” she asked, her voice soft and uncertain.

Lin Xian nodded, offering her a reassuring smile. “Just for tonight,” he said. “Someday, when I’m rich, I’ll book us a double room.”

CC let out a light laugh, resting her head back on the pillow. “Such ambition… Alright then. Goodnight.”

“Goodnight.”

Lin Xian settled onto the narrow patch of floor between the bed and the window. The wooden floor was hard and cold, but he didn’t mind. Thinking about how much worse CC had it for so long made his discomfort seem insignificant. Besides, once he fell asleep, the hardness of the floor wouldn’t matter.

He pulled his coat tighter around himself, trying to ward off the chill of the Brooklyn night. A cold breeze seeped in from somewhere, and he felt the temperature drop. He breathed slowly, evenly… until he drifted off to sleep.

…

…

Rustle, rustle, rustle…

Lin Xian stirred, half-conscious. He felt a weight on him, something pressing down. His body felt heavy, almost as if he was pinned in place—sleep paralysis?

His muddled mind struggled to focus. Was this a dream? Something felt different, unfamiliar. A sense of unease crawled over him, urging him to wake up.

Suddenly, he bolted upright, his heart pounding.

“Ah!” CC yelped, startled.

Lin Xian blinked, rubbing his eyes. CC was standing there, wide-eyed, a blanket in her hands.

“CC? What are you doing?” he asked groggily.

She pointed at the blanket, her cheeks flushing slightly. “I… I was trying to cover you with this. A cold front came through, and I saw the window was frosted over. I thought you’d be freezing down there, so I wanted to give you the blanket. But look at you! You said you couldn’t wake up once you fell asleep, but I barely put this on you, and you jumped right up.”

Lin Xian held up a hand, a frown forming on his face. “Wait, hold on a second.” Something wasn’t right. He pulled back the curtain and glanced outside. The sky was still dark, the moon hanging low on the horizon.

“What time is it?” he muttered. He turned to CC. “What’s the time now?”

CC came over, looking out at the moon. Without hesitation, she said, “It must be around three or four in the morning.”

Lin Xian’s frown deepened. “That doesn’t make sense… I shouldn’t be awake before twelve forty-two. I shouldn’t be able to wake up at all before then. How could I wake up just because you put a blanket on me?”

He fell silent, his mind racing. The more he thought about it, the more unsettling it seemed. His heart pounded faster.

This was the first time, in all his twenty-six years, that something like this had happened—he hadn’t dreamed at all!

“How is that possible?” Lin Xian whispered, confusion and worry gnawing at him. Since he was born, he’d never gone a night without dreaming. Always, he’d dreamt of August 28th, 2624. It was as reliable as the rising sun.

But tonight… nothing. Just a void—no images, no sounds, no memories.

This year, 1952, was anything but ordinary. Temporal laws were failing, the Millennial Stake hadn’t been established, and even his ability to see the future in his dreams had vanished.

What was causing this?

Lin Xian opened his eyes, looking at CC, who stood by the bed, her face full of confusion. The first-generation stake—the key to everything.

Could it be…

Was his ability to dream of the future, six hundred years ahead, somehow connected to the formation and stability of the Millennial Stake?