Genius Club

Chapter 412: Du Yao

As expected.

Fake Elon Musk…

It was the same fake Elon Musk who had shown up at the abandoned warehouse in a Tesla, deceiving Lin Xian into believing he was the real one. This impostor, this “stand-in,” had played the part all too well.

If the person leading people to Mars from the Seventh Dream was actually Elon Musk’s double and not the real Elon Musk, then a lot of things suddenly made sense.

“Come in,” Angelica said calmly. Despite her reputation for being unhinged, she appeared composed. She stepped aside, allowing Lin Xian and CC to enter the room.

Then her eyes narrowed as they landed on Big Cat Face, who was holding a stuffed bear, munching on its head, and chewing the bear’s tongue as if it was a snack.

“And this guy is…?” she asked, her brow furrowed.

“Oh, him…” Lin Xian hesitated. Introducing this hungry, shameless guy was embarrassing. Luckily, he wasn’t the village chief, or he’d be bringing shame to the entire village. “Brother, we found a place, so we won’t need you anymore. You can go back to the banquet and keep eating those lamb skewers.”

In truth, a happy world always had a happy Big Cat Face. He wasn’t interested in the end of the world, Mars, or real and fake conspiracies. The only thing that mattered to him was whether the lamb skewers were well cooked.

After Big Cat Face left, Angelica led Lin Xian and CC inside, closing the door and switching on the lights. Donghai City still didn’t have centralized power, with each household relying on their own nuclear batteries, which were enough for daily needs.

Lin Xian thought this was one of the negative effects of nuclear batteries: people had grown complacent, and there were no signs of large-scale industrial development. It was neither entirely good nor entirely bad.

They settled down on the sofa. Angelica took out a notebook from a drawer and handed it to Lin Xian.

“When I entered the hibernation pod back then, it was all very sudden. I didn’t have time to prepare much, so I just wrote this one ‘Memory Notebook.’ It mostly covers things about you, Ji Lin, and Elon Musk. I don’t remember much else—not even my own past life clearly.”

She continued, her voice tinged with a kind of sadness, “People in this city call me ‘crazy’ because losing my memory left me anxious and unstable. I couldn’t always tell what was real and what wasn’t; I often felt detached from the world.”

“I never realized how much my memories mattered to me until I lost them. The more I couldn’t remember, the more obsessed I became. I know I probably caused a lot of trouble for the residents around me, but at that time, I just couldn’t help myself.”

“I understand,” Lin Xian said, nodding as he took the notebook.

“People value their memories differently. Some willingly let go, some find them trivial, but others see memories as the core of their soul and identity.” He paused, offering her a reassuring smile. “If I woke up and had no memories at all, and then found out my ‘Memory Notebook’ contained nothing but mundane things unrelated to me, I’d probably react just like you did.”

He said it to comfort Angelica, but deep down, Lin Xian knew that it was easy to offer empty reassurances without truly experiencing someone else’s suffering. He could never fully understand the fear and turmoil Angelica must have faced.

Lin Xian opened the notebook. The first thing he saw was a couple of laminated photos of himself and Ji Lin, tucked into the pages. Thanks to the lamination, the photos were in perfect condition. Ji Lin’s picture showed a young boy; Angelica must have chosen it specifically. His own photo, though, was much more casual—just one of those typical media shots.

He flipped through the handwritten pages. Just as Angelica had said, it was clear she’d been in a rush when she wrote it. The writing was messy, disorganized, and at times difficult to understand. Still, Lin Xian managed to make sense of it.

This time, his story came before Ji Lin’s.

The notebook described his death on July 7, 2024—beheaded, his body and head separated. The killer remained unknown. Angelica had attended his funeral. All of this was the same as the previous accounts, unchanged.

After the funeral, Angelica met with Elon Musk. They returned to the U.S. together and had a discussion. Elon Musk had promised Angelica he would fulfill Lin Xian’s wishes: “Since Lin Xian is gone, when I find out who killed your brother’s parents, I’ll tell you who they are.”

Angelica had insisted, “I want justice for Ji Lin, but also for Lin Xian. If you find out who killed Lin Xian, you have to tell me too.”

Everything seemed fine up to that point.

But half a month later, Angelica met with Elon Musk again, and the experience was terrifying. The man looked exactly like Elon Musk—an impeccable disguise that made it hard to tell he was a fake. If Angelica hadn’t been the one to help apply the disguise in the first place, she might have been fooled.

During their conversation, the fake Elon Musk was trying to extract information from her. He seemed confident in his performance, completely unaware that Angelica had already seen through him. As an Oscar-winning actress known for her versatility, Angelica’s acting was flawless. She played along as if nothing was wrong, chatting casually with her “old friend” without revealing any secrets or suspicions.

After that encounter, Angelica became certain that Elon Musk had been murdered, most likely in a premeditated act. Someone had then put the fake Elon Musk in his place to deceive the world.

Facing the mysterious deaths of two friends, Angelica realized the danger she was in. She fled to this country, using her connections to secure a spot as a volunteer for a hibernation pod.

She had no set awakening date, only that she was to be awakened once Elon Musk’s Mars migration plan was completed and he had left Earth.

“But something must have gone wrong,” Angelica explained as she sat across the coffee table from Lin Xian. “When I woke up, it was because the residents of Donghai City had dug me out of an underground hibernation facility.”

“I was lucky. Most of the hibernation pods in that facility had been damaged over time, and the people inside them had died. My pod somehow kept functioning—thanks to the later upgrades with the micro nuclear batteries. Without those, I doubt I would have survived the Great Catastrophe of 2400.”

Angelica’s story answered many of Lin Xian’s questions about the inconsistencies he had noticed in the Seventh Dream. It all boiled down to one simple fact—after Elon Musk’s death, the fake Elon Musk had taken his place, turning the entire Mars migration plan into a farce.

Who killed Elon Musk? Who supported the fake Elon Musk, allowing him to deceive the world?

Lin Xian didn’t know. In 2024, Elon Musk’s greatest rival, the digital entity Turing, had already been taken down by Lin Xian. Who else would want Elon Musk dead? Galileo? Copernicus? Or perhaps another member of the Genius Club?

Whoever the culprit was, their plan was ruthless. Killing Elon Musk wasn’t enough; they also had to ensure that his impostor carried on the Mars project just as Elon Musk would have.

What kind of secrets were hidden behind such an elaborate plan?

Lin Xian flipped further into Angelica’s notebook. The rest of the entries mostly dealt with Ji Lin and Angelica’s personal affairs—nothing related to him or Elon Musk.

He closed the notebook with a snap and handed it back to Angelica. As he did so, he felt as though a figure cloaked in black, wielding a scythe, was lurking behind the sofa, ready to strike him down.

It seemed that even with all the drastic changes in the worldline, he couldn’t escape his fate of dying on July 7.

And this time, by eliminating Turing ahead of schedule, he had inadvertently dragged Elon Musk along the path to destruction.

He swore it was unintentional.

Time had a way of playing tricks on those who dared to manipulate it. The butterfly effect was merciless. Lin Xian hadn’t expected that he’d be the one toying with time, while Elon Musk would become the tragic scapegoat.

“Elon Musk’s death shouldn’t be inevitable, right?” Lin Xian thought out loud.

By all accounts, he felt he owed it to Elon Musk to give him a heads-up. After all, Elon Musk had been a valuable ally, not to mention that he had saved Lin Xian’s life when he was in danger of being taken by Lin Yu Xi.

Now, it was time to return the favor.

When he woke from the dream, Lin Xian decided he would call Elon Musk and arrange to meet him face-to-face to discuss this matter.

Face-to-face would be safer. Considering the killer had not only managed to eliminate Elon Musk but also replace him without anyone noticing, it suggested that there was likely someone on the inside. There was no way to guarantee that Elon Musk’s phone wasn’t being tapped.

“An inside job is the hardest to guard against.”

To be cautious, Lin Xian decided it was best to invite Elon Musk to Donghai City for a proper conversation.

“Don’t worry, Angelica,” Lin Xian assured her. “This fight isn’t over yet.”

He looked at her seriously, his right hand resting on his chest. “You saw it yourself—I’m still alive, and there’s hope for Elon Musk too. Thank you for holding on all this time. The information you brought me is incredibly valuable. Perhaps our fight to turn the tables starts right now.”

“I also promise you, our agreement isn’t over. I will keep my word.”

“Since I promised to find out who killed Ji Lin’s parents, I won’t break that promise. I’ll find the culprit, tell you, and even help you get revenge if that’s what you want.”

Lin Xian gave her a comforting smile. “Back then, you asked me if I’d avenge Ji Lin, and I said no. At the time, I felt his actions didn’t warrant my help—it was what he deserved.” He paused. “But now, I make this promise not for Ji Lin, but for you, Angelica. You’ve helped me so much, in the past and even now. I’ll remember that kindness.”

“Just be patient. I won’t let your efforts be in vain. I’m going to join the Genius Club and fulfill our promises.”

Angelica’s heart, burdened for decades, finally found some peace. Tears rolled down her cheeks.

“Thank you, Lin Xian,” she whispered. “Your words make me feel like all these years of waiting weren’t for nothing. I’ve been lost, not knowing what to do, or what I was waiting for. But now, I understand—my waiting wasn’t in vain.”

“I trust you. I trust every word you say. As I wrote in the ‘Memory Notebook,’ you and Ji Lin are the two people I trust most in this world. I thought I’d never get the chance to avenge you two, but I’ve finally reached this moment.”

“I often wish I could get back my old memories, that we could talk like we did centuries ago, as old friends. But now, everything’s hazy—including my memories of us. Most of it feels unreal.”

Lin Xian nodded, understanding her frustration.

In the Fifth Dream, Angelica had left behind many ‘Memory Notebooks’ and recordings, waking on the developed Mars where those recordings could be downloaded directly to her mind. But in the Seventh Dream, she hadn’t gone to Mars with Elon Musk. This time, her hibernation had been rushed, and she had only had time to leave behind one notebook. Naturally, most of her memories were missing.

Even so, Angelica had managed to give these fragmented memories emotional weight through self-suggestion and hypnosis—which was no small feat.

Memories.

Lin Xian looked at another ‘Memory Notebook’ in his hand—this one from Emperor Gao Wen. He got it during the bonfire party in Gao Wen’s office on campus.

What kind of surprises would Emperor Gao Wen have in store for him this time?

Lin Xian opened the notebook, his anticipation growing.

The first thing he saw was the title, written boldly on the first page:

“Overcoming the Side Effects of Hibernation Memory Loss—The Brain Nerve Stimulation Helmet!”

Lin Xian couldn’t help but chuckle.

“Well, well, well…”

Who could he even complain to about this?

It seemed that Emperor Gao Wen in this life was still researching the Brain Nerve Stimulation Helmet, stuck at the same bottleneck in neuroscience as in the Sixth Dream—no major breakthroughs had been made.

“So that means I still didn’t get to publish this manuscript before I died on July 7,” Lin Xian thought.

According to his original plan, he hadn’t intended to publish this manuscript, nor to set up a research lab for it so early. After all, the key figure, Ms. Du Yao, still hadn’t been found.

From Gao Wen’s notes, it was clear that in the following centuries, there would never again be a brilliant neuroscientist like Du Yao.

So if Lin Xian wanted the Brain Nerve Stimulation Helmet to be made, there was only one path forward—finding Du Yao, changing her destiny, keeping her from going to Africa for peacekeeping missions, and ensuring she stayed in the lab for her research.

If she could achieve a major breakthrough, then the helmet could be made based on Gao Wen’s notes.

“Ms. Du Yao and the Brain Nerve Stimulation Helmet are the keys to changing the future world,” Lin Xian acknowledged to himself.

With the threat of his own death on July 7 still unresolved, his other projects had been advancing slowly. Only the micro nuclear battery project was on track.

The other two manuscripts, “The Time Machine” and “The Brain Nerve Stimulation Helmet,” hadn’t made any progress in 2024.

“I need to hurry, otherwise… even Emperor Gao Wen won’t have anything left to contribute,” Lin Xian thought, feeling a pang of frustration.

He understood that unless he found Ms. Du Yao in real life, any future meetings with Gao Wen in the dream would still have him working on the same helmet problem without any updates. Unless Lin Xian solved this problem, only then could Gao Wen continue to advance and innovate.

“I can’t be the one holding Gao Wen back,” Lin Xian resolved.

After this dream, finding Ms. Du Yao would be his priority. He couldn’t be the obstacle in Gao Wen’s path of progress.

Science was the foundation of progress, the true power to change the world—something that Gao Wen exemplified perfectly.

After their discussion, Lin Xian and CC left Angelica’s house, bidding farewell to the elderly woman often called “the crazy lady” and wandered back to the bustling town square.

CC took a deep breath and let out a sigh. “It seems like this world isn’t as perfect as we thought it was. We were a bit too optimistic.”

“You’re right,” Lin Xian agreed. “We were only seeing the surface. Underneath, there’s so much more—dark secrets and hidden schemes.”

No wonder the Seventh Dream appeared not too different from the Sixth Dream but still managed to leap ahead by six levels of temporal curvature.

It turned out that the world was far more turbulent than it seemed.

“Sigh…” Lin Xian let out a long breath, recalling the third test from the Genius Club. What kind of future would truly be the best?

It felt more and more like there was no clear answer.

In the Seventh Dream, since Elon Musk died alongside him in 2024, it meant that on this timeline, Elon Musk lost—and lost terribly.

He had lost everything—his position, his influence, and even his life. His successes had been usurped by someone else.

What was happening on Mars now, Lin Xian wondered?

Probably nothing good. After all, Elon Musk truly loved Mars; he was driven by passion and dreams. If he was replaced, it would be hard to imagine what Mars would have become—perhaps chaos and self-destruction.

“I’ll think about it after I wake up,” Lin Xian decided.

They made their way back to the square, where even the feast area had fewer people now. Most had returned home to sleep. The feast would last for three days, so there was no rush; they could always come back tomorrow.

“Hey! I saved these for you two!” Big Cat Face rolled over, looking like a ball, holding a bunch of lamb skewers. “I kept these just for you! Eat up, they’re still hot!”

To be honest, after all that running around, Lin Xian and CC were starting to feel hungry.

“Alright, let’s eat,” Lin Xian said as they each took a skewer.

The lamb was plump and tender, glistening under the moonlight, its aroma filling the air.

It smelled amazing.

Lin Xian opened his mouth wide, ready to bite into the juicy meat—

Boom!

Boom!

Boom!

A flash of white light at 00:42 wiped everything away—the delicious skewers, the bustling square, all vanished, leaving nothing but darkness and the lingering taste of emptiness.

…

…

…

Lin Xian opened his eyes in his bedroom, taking a deep breath.

“Damn it,” he muttered.

So close to tasting it, and the dream just had to end.

“Damn white light,” he cursed as he sat up. His stomach rumbled—he really was hungry, and he could almost still smell the lamb.

But first, he had more important things to do.

Lin Xian grabbed his phone and dialed an international number—Elon Musk’s number in the U.S.

The call connected quickly.

“Lin Xian, I never thought I’d get a call from you. This is a surprise,” Elon Musk said.

“Elon Musk, can you come to Donghai in the next few days?” Lin Xian asked directly. “I have something important we need to discuss in person.”

“Oh?” Elon Musk sounded intrigued. “Is it something you need my help with? Let me guess—did one of the tests stump you? If that’s the case, I’m afraid I can’t help. I’d love to see you join the club, but rules are rules, and I can’t give you any hints.”

Lin Xian smiled faintly. “Don’t worry, it’s not about that.”

“What I want to talk about is much more important. Besides, I’ve already dealt with those tests. If you don’t take this matter seriously… well, you might not even get the chance to cheer for me at the next club meeting.”

There was silence on the other end of the line. The atmosphere grew heavy.

Elon Musk knew Lin Xian wouldn’t joke about something like this. He had given Lin Xian his phone number long ago, but this was the first time Lin Xian had called him. That alone was enough to show how serious it was.

A dozen scenarios flashed through Elon Musk’s mind—wiretaps, hidden ears, sensitive information…

Whatever the reason, it was better to heed Lin Xian’s advice.

“Alright. I have some things to wrap up, but I can be there in three days. I’ll contact you when I arrive,” Elon Musk agreed.

After they set a time, the call ended. Lin Xian glanced at the digital clock by his bed.

It was June 17, 2024, 12:47 AM.

Twenty days left until July 7—the day of reckoning.

Elon Musk would arrive in Donghai in three days, and they’d have a lot to discuss.

Until then, Lin Xian had three days to make preparations.

He thought back to Angelica’s story—her breakdown from losing her memory, Gao Wen’s notes on the Brain Nerve Stimulation Helmet…

Du Yao.

Finding Du Yao was the key to making that helmet, and once they had it, it could help hibernation survivors regain their lost memories. The future would change again.

Many people had been plagued by memory loss after waking up from hibernation—Zheng Xiang Yue, Wei Sheng Jin, Angelica, Gao Wen, and countless others.

If they could get rid of that side effect for good, who knew what kind of path humanity could forge?

Lin Xian decided it was worth a shot.

“Du Yao… I’ve definitely seen that name somewhere before,” he muttered, closing his eyes as he tried to remember.

He was sure of it. The name wasn’t unfamiliar. He had seen it somewhere.

“Du Yao…” Lin Xian furrowed his brows. Where had he seen that name before?