Genius Club

Two days later, in the new port area of Donghai City, at Tesla’s Gigafactory laboratory.

“Lin Xian, it’s confirmed,” said Elon Musk, stepping aside from the lab table to let Lin Xian take a closer look.

On the lab table lay the Golden Badge of the Genius Club, dismantled into its components by precision instruments.

…

Two days ago, as they were leaving the Swiss airport, Angelica was in high spirits. She hugged Lin Xian tightly but refused Elon Musk’s attempt at a hug, preparing to fly back to the United States.

“I’m planning to visit Brooklyn,” she said, her voice filled with emotion. “I want to put flowers on Ji Xin Shui and Ji Lin’s graves. Let them know the good news—that Copernicus is finally gone.”

She paused, looking at Lin Xian with a gentle smile. “Maybe you’d want to come too? I know you had your issues with those two, but… Copernicus is dead now, and so are they. Doesn’t that mean we can let bygones be bygones?”

Lin Xian stayed silent for a moment, sensing the sincerity in her words. “We’ll see,” he replied eventually. He didn’t want to dampen Angelica’s joy—she looked so relieved, so genuinely happy.

But still, the name Brooklyn lingered in his mind.

“Sorrowful Einstein”—that painting was made by the artist Henry Dawson in Brooklyn in 1952. So why were Ji Xin Shui, a native of X Country, and his adopted son buried in a foreign land? Why Brooklyn? Didn’t he have a home to return to?

For someone from X Country, especially an elder like Ji Xin Shui, returning to rest in the homeland’s soil should have been an instinct. Why Brooklyn?

“Was it your choice to bury them there?” Lin Xian asked Angelica. “Or was it their wish?”

Angelica gathered her long, dark hair, tying it into a simple ponytail. “It was the old man’s choice. He loved Brooklyn—every year he’d go there, said his best friends were there, and that he wanted to pay his respects to them. Ji Lin always complained about it.”

“But honestly, I’m not sure. It wasn’t necessarily the city itself that mattered to him—maybe it was the memories, or the people he knew there,” Angelica added, her voice soft with uncertainty.

Lin Xian nodded thoughtfully. “Do you know who he was visiting or where exactly in Brooklyn?”

“No idea,” Angelica replied with a shrug. “I’ve told you before—Ji Xin Shui sent me to Hollywood to become a child star when I was very young. I rarely saw them, maybe once a year. Everything I know, Ji Lin told me.”

“But I doubt Ji Lin knew much either,” she continued. “He didn’t seem interested. Maybe he asked once, but Ji Xin Shui never answered. And Ji Lin didn’t push for details—he didn’t care about the old man’s past.”

Lin Xian nodded again. “Got it. Safe journey, Angelica. See you around.”

“You too!” Angelica gave them a warm smile, waving as she walked towards her gate.

Elon Musk rubbed his chin, a grin spreading across his face. “Quite the charm you’ve got, Lin Xian. I’m envious.”

Lin Xian rolled his eyes. “Haven’t you had enough fun pretending to be Fake Elon Musk, charming everyone with your acting skills?”

“No, no, no,” Elon Musk shook his head playfully. “Switching roles is easy for me. I just wanted to say, Angelica’s smile was beautiful—real happiness from the heart.”

Lin Xian nodded. “She’s lost her family twice now—left alone both times. After Ji Lin and Ji Xin Shui died, she became a vengeful spirit with nowhere to belong.”

“But now, she’s finally killed Copernicus—the one responsible for it all. Angelica’s greatest wish has come true. She’s finally found some peace.”

He paused, his gaze drifting to Elon Musk’s chest pocket.

Inside was the Golden Badge of the Genius Club, taken from Copernicus. To be sure they had actually killed the real Copernicus, they needed to analyze the badge.

Noticing Lin Xian’s expression, Elon Musk patted his shoulder and smiled. “Don’t worry, Lin Xian. I’m not going back to the U.S. just yet. We’ll take my private jet to Donghai. I’ll head straight to Tesla’s Gigafactory and use their lab to figure this badge out. I’ll call you as soon as I’m done.”

…

And that was why Lin Xian was at Tesla’s Gigafactory now. After getting Elon Musk’s call, he had jumped into the car, Xiao Li driving him to the lab.

Elon Musk gestured to the neatly arranged parts on the lab table. “There’s nothing overly complicated here—just a coil and an NFC encrypted chip. Simple structure, simple principle.”

“I didn’t cut it open—I ground it down, bit by bit, to make sure the internal structure wasn’t damaged. If you were planning to use this badge to pretend to be Copernicus at a Genius Club meeting, that wouldn’t work. Their system is pretty tight on identity verification. Want me to explain in detail?”

Lin Xian studied the dismantled components on the table. He picked up some of the residue, rubbing it between his fingers.

“Plastic?”

“Not quite. It’s a complex material—it looks and feels like metal but isn’t. And it’s not conductive,” Elon Musk explained. “That’s key, Lin Xian. The NFC principle relies on the coil generating current. If the coil were surrounded by metal, it’d create a Faraday cage, and no current could form.”

Lin Xian nodded, tossing the powder aside. “Makes sense. I always thought it was weird to use solid metal for an NFC badge—must have been some kind of high-tech trick.”

“So, tell me about the Genius Club’s identity verification system,” Lin Xian said, intrigued.

Elon Musk pulled up a chair for Lin Xian, settling into his own. “From what I know, before 2004, the Genius Club always met in person. At their last in-person meeting that year, Einstein gave Golden Badges to five members.”

“Oh, you mean Copernicus, Newton, Galileo, Da Vinci, and Gauss… They were the only five members back then.”

Elon Musk nodded. “Einstein said they’d meet virtually from then on, using the badges. This way, their identities could stay hidden. The online setup was simple back then, though I never saw it myself.”

Lin Xian thought for a moment. “So, originally, the invitation seals didn’t include the Golden Badges. Einstein must have added them later, waiting for the remaining geniuses to find their invitations.”

Elon Musk shook his head slightly. “Actually, the original invites did have badges—just solid gold ones without NFC. They weren’t for identity verification either.”

He gave a wry smile. “A lot of things in the Genius Club are more about tradition and appearances than practicality. For instance, there’s no real reason for the NFC to work like this for this badge. And don’t get me started on those silly masks on VR avatars. Anyway, back to what I was saying.”

“The key embedded in the Golden Badge is unique to each member—it’s their identity. From the first time you use it to join a meeting, the system begins collecting your biometric data—voice, facial features, fingerprints. All without you even noticing. Over time, it builds a full profile. It might not get everything, but it’ll always have your voice.”

Lin Xian raised an eyebrow. “But couldn’t it be hacked? I mean, creating a fake fingerprint or voice isn’t impossible.”

Elon Musk laughed. “I’m not done. Voice is just one example. The system also records your tone, expressions, accent—even the way you laugh. Each time you join a meeting, it verifies your identity in countless ways. That long loading screen? It’s checking all of that.”

“In the old days, maybe you could bypass it. But since Kevin Walker redesigned the whole program and encryption logic, it’s nearly unbreakable. Every Genius Club member has tried to locate the server hosting the meetings, hoping to find others’ information. Every single attempt has failed.”

“As much as I dislike Kevin Walker, I have to admit—technically, he’s leagues ahead of everyone. Earth’s greatest hacker—he deserves that title.”

Lin Xian stayed quiet, absorbing the information.

He agreed with Elon Musk on this. After all, even VV, the advanced AI, couldn’t locate Kevin Walker’s identity. In network technology, Kevin was indeed a genius—perhaps the kind of talent that only comes once in centuries.

After all, he had secretly created digital life itself.

Such people were dangerous, but Lin Xian couldn’t deny the admiration he felt for Kevin Walker’s skills.

Lin Xian looked at Elon Musk again. “So, from your perspective, there’s no way someone could fake being a Genius Club member?”

“From a technical standpoint, I think it’s impossible,” Elon Musk said, his tone firm. “Unless someone even smarter than Kevin Walker comes along. But even then… I’m not sure Einstein would let it slide. He’s all-knowing, after all. If anyone tried to impersonate a member, Einstein would know.”

Lin Xian rubbed his chin thoughtfully.

If Elon Musk was that confident…

Did that mean they’d really killed Copernicus? Finally rid themselves of that menace?

“Lin Xian, I know you’re cautious,” Elon Musk said earnestly. “But there’s no need to be overly suspicious. Think about it—the old man we killed had the same voice as Copernicus, fell right into our trap, carried a genuine badge, had futuristic tech in his base, and even had his secretary infiltrate my side for years.”

“He nearly stole those entangled space-time particles from us… Isn’t all of this proof enough? I really think we can finally say—”

“We killed the real Copernicus. Our revenge is complete.”

Lin Xian chuckled.

He knew that both Angelica and Elon Musk thought he’d gone a bit mad over this—that he refused to believe they’d actually succeeded.

But if he hadn’t experienced the ability to dream six hundred years into the future, he might have believed it too. After all, 99.99% of the facts pointed to the dead man being Copernicus.

But the problem was he had experienced the First Dream.

In that dream, there had been no cryo-chamber—yet someone had killed Big Cat Face’s father at exactly 00:42 AM.

It was clearly Copernicus’s style.

Or at least, something very similar to his.

And that was what troubled Lin Xian the most.

Could there be… another Copernicus?

If so, where was he?

And if there was a second one, could there be a third or a fourth?

Of course, if he really wanted to overthink it, there was another point to consider. The First Dream held a big mystery about Big Cat Face’s father’s death—and the death of his daughter.

Copernicus was ruthless and willing to sacrifice scientists and mathematicians for his plans. There was no justification for that.

But, in his own twisted way, he did respect them. He made sure they died at precisely 00:42 as a mark of his strange reverence, and he always emphasized avoiding unnecessary killings.

It was because of this strict rule—no killing of innocents—that Lin Xian had survived until now. It was also why Ji Lin had lived for an extra twenty years.

Copernicus had principles when it came to killing.

But the one who killed Big Cat Face’s father didn’t seem to follow those principles.

If it really had been Copernicus, he might have killed Big Cat Face’s father, but he would have spared the daughter. That fit more with his arrogant, self-righteous style.

Just like during the Genius Club meetings…

Newton had accused Copernicus of killing scientists, pointing his finger at him. Copernicus had only laughed, completely unfazed.

But when Lin Xian accused him of killing both his father and his daughter, Copernicus had become agitated. He went on a long-winded explanation about his pride, insisting he would never kill an innocent child—eager to distance himself from the accusation.

It seemed that sort of baseless accusation struck a nerve for Copernicus. It was one of the few things that seemed to genuinely matter to him.

So, analyzing it this way…

It seemed someone else might have killed Big Cat Face’s father and daughter.

Someone like Copernicus, but not him.

…

After a long silence, Lin Xian sat up straight, shifting his posture. He spoke softly, “Debating this won’t get us anywhere. If we want to know if Copernicus is truly dead, if we really killed him… Einstein is the only one who can confirm it.”

Thinking about the almost magical, AI-like Einstein, Lin Xian couldn’t help but smile.

“I still trust Einstein a lot. If he says Copernicus is dead, then I’ll believe it.”

“Hahaha…” Elon Musk laughed, shaking his head slowly. “Impossible, Lin Xian. You know the rules. You can’t ask about Genius Club members or the club itself.”

“No, Elon Musk, you’re wrong,” Lin Xian said, waving a hand. “There’s a loophole in that rule.”

“A loophole?” Elon Musk squinted at him. “Come on, Lin Xian. You’re underestimating Einstein, the Genius Club, and its members. If there was a loophole, they would’ve found it ages ago.”

Lin Xian smiled.

“Alright, maybe calling it a ‘loophole’ isn’t accurate. Let’s just say it’s a clever use of the rules.”

“I remember Einstein’s three rules very clearly. The first one says—”

“Questions asked must not concern other Genius Club members’ identities, plans, actions, or privacy. If violated, Einstein will refuse to answer, and the question will be wasted as a warning.”

“So, did you catch the key point, Elon Musk?”

“The rule says you can’t ask about ‘other’ Genius Club members. It doesn’t say you can’t ask about yourself.”

“During that meeting you missed halfway through, I asked Einstein when I would die. He gave me the exact answer, down to the minute and second.”

“Of course, I know if I asked about anyone else’s death, Einstein wouldn’t answer. But I could ask about my own.”

“Heh.” Elon Musk chuckled, clapping his hands. “Well done, my friend. That’s pretty obvious, though.”

“The rule exists to protect privacy and safety. Who’d ask something about themselves in front of everyone, only to let Einstein announce it to the entire room?”

“Lin Xian, don’t underestimate those geniuses. Sure, you can control your question. But you can’t control Einstein’s answer.”

“If, during your question, Einstein said just one crucial word—just one—those geniuses could deduce your identity, location, plans, and goals.”

“If you plan on using a question about yourself to figure out if Copernicus is really dead, be very careful. Don’t trust anyone in the Genius Club, and don’t trust anything they say.”

“Even those who seem harmless like Gauss, friendly and kind like Da Vinci, or righteous like Newton—no one knows what’s really behind their masks. Who knows if they’re human or monsters underneath.”

Lin Xian nodded.

“Don’t worry. There are still three days left until the next meeting on September 1st. I’ll think it over carefully.”

“Of course, I hope you and Angelica are right. If, in the end, we prove that I’m just overthinking, there’s nothing better than that. I’ll even invite you over to celebrate with champagne.”

With that, he stood up, ready to leave.

“I’m heading back, Elon Musk. Let me know if anything comes up.”

Elon Musk also stood, shaking Lin Xian’s hand firmly.

“Thank you might sound a bit formal, but I really mean it—thank you, Lin Xian. Thanks for giving me that information in time and saving my life.”

He pounded his chest in promise.

“If I ever have the chance to repay you, don’t hesitate to ask. I’d lay down my life for you if needed.”

…

Later, Elon Musk watched as Lin Xian got into the car and drove away.

“Where to, Mr. Lin Xian?” asked Xiao Li, the driver of the Alphard.

“Home,” Lin Xian said, yawning. “My jet lag’s killing me. I need a long nap.”

Ring ring…

Lin Xian’s phone rang. He picked it up and looked at the caller ID—Gao Yang?

Since they’d parted ways abruptly at his old home in Hang City, they hadn’t talked much for half a month. Why was Gao Yang calling now?

“Hello?”

“Hey, hey, hey!” Gao Yang sounded excited. “Come over to my place tonight to watch that videotape!”

“What videotape?” Lin Xian asked absently.

“The one we got from Zhang Yu Qian’s coffin! You didn’t forget, did you?!”

…

Lin Xian closed his eyes, taking a deep breath.

“You actually have the nerve to bring that up? It’s been months, and you’re only now getting the VCR sorted? Why not invite me in six hundred years?”

“Don’t blame me for this!” Gao Yang said, sounding righteous. “That tape was a special, compact version made by Panasonic years ago. Finding the right player wasn’t easy. I had to go through so much trouble to get one from Japan.”

“And honestly, the main reason for the delay was that the tape itself was badly damaged. What, did you think the coffin was some kind of time machine where time stood still? The tape wouldn’t even play when I tried it. I had to get a specialist to repair it. They just called me saying it’s fixed.”

“Alright then,” Lin Xian sighed, switching the phone to his other hand. “If you’re not busy, I could come over now. No need to wait until tonight.”

“Nah, the dealership’s packed right now. And I still need to pick up the tape. Let’s stick with tonight. Come by around seven or eight. I’ve been dying to see what’s on that mysterious tape!”

With that, Gao Yang hung up.

Lin Xian closed his eyes, thinking back to Chu An Qing, who had turned into blue stardust and vanished—

To the photo of Zhang Yu Qian in her coffin, smiling like a flower in bloom—

To the two identical girls, living lives twenty-four years apart—

To the eerie code 1952 in the diary…

He was curious too. He opened his eyes slowly.

“What could be on Zhang Yu Qian’s videotape…?”

“What exactly did it record?”

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