Genius Club

This novel is translated and hosted on Bcatranslation

CC’s trembling voice hung in the air as Lin Xian remained silent.

“Fear of Gain and Loss.”

That, perhaps, described CC’s current state perfectly.

As she had just confessed, when she had nothing, life had been carefree. She hadn’t feared loss, the uncertainties of tomorrow, or even death itself. But now, having so much, she inevitably became more afraid—afraid of losing it all, and plagued by a deep insecurity.

Yes, insecurity.

It was the very thing CC, the original Stake Girl, had yearned for since her birth but could never grasp.

It was like the film Alice in Wonderland. Alice had merely been daydreaming, and CC feared that one day, she might wake up from her own dream, finding herself still huddled in a corner of a cold Brooklyn street, alone and vulnerable.

Seeing the glint of fragility in CC’s eyes, Lin Xian’s heart ached.

But…

CC, as if foreseeing the inevitable, spoke of their final fate.

This encounter in 1952 Brooklyn, she realized, was nothing more than a dream.

Eventually, CC would dissolve into blue star fragments, laying the foundation of the first Millennial Stake along the river of time.

Lin Xian, too, would leave 1952, carrying the truth and answers back to 2234 to continue his journey of saving the world.

Time’s wheel pressed forward. No one would stay in 1952—not Lin Xian, not CC.

Lin Xian understood this too.

This was indeed a dream—a dream for the original Stake Girl, a dream for himself, a dream for Zhang Yu Qian, a dream for Chu An Qing, and a dream for every Millennial Stake Girl.

The harsh reality, however, was that this dream had a predestined end, and it would inevitably break.

Lin Xian hesitated.

In the end, he reached out, placing his broad palm gently on CC’s head, ruffling her smooth hair with a tender smile.

“Don’t be ridiculous. What are you even talking about?”

He chose to lie.

It was a kind lie, like so many he had heard before—a mix of compassion and helplessness.

“How can you be so childish? Taking an animated movie and blending it with reality… Those things aren’t real. We’re living in the real world.”

He grabbed a handful of popcorn from CC’s bucket, tossed it into his mouth, and swallowed.

“Remember? You said before that in your dreams, you couldn’t even taste hot dogs. But today, you’ve had steak and popcorn. How could this possibly be a dream?” ⱤÅꞐÒβƐⱾ

“So, stop worrying. This isn’t a dream. You’re here in Manhattan, the center of the world, with your feet firmly on the ground. And I’m not going anywhere. Whenever you wake up, I’ll still be here.”

…

CC listened, nodded, and wiped her eyes.

She smiled awkwardly, a little embarrassed.

“You’re right. I was overthinking. Hehe, how could this be a dream? Go on, pinch me! If it’s a dream, the pain will wake me up.”

Lin Xian obliged.

Through the fabric of her sleeve, he pinched the skin on CC’s arm and twisted.

“Ow, ow, ow!”Nôv(el)B\\jnn

Popcorn spilled from CC’s bucket as she flinched. She punched Lin Xian lightly.

“Why’d you pinch so hard?”

“To put your worries to rest.”

Lin Xian laughed.

“See? It hurt, and you didn’t wake up. That’s proof it’s not a dream. Rest assured, when it comes to proving reality versus dreams, I’m a professional.”

“You’re too professional!”

CC rubbed her arm and stood up.

“Come on, everyone else has left. It’s just the two of us now.”

Lin Xian stood and followed her out of the theater.

They exited the cinema and stepped into the night.

Outside, the wind had picked up. It was cold and biting.

Though last night’s snowfall had been brief, the lingering chill ushered the city into an early winter.

It was late, and there were few cars on the streets.

Lin Xian and CC hailed a taxi, returning to the Empire State Building Hotel to wash up and sleep.

“A big house isn’t always a good thing,” CC remarked while brushing her teeth.

“Smaller rooms feel cozier. When it’s too big… like now, it just feels empty.”

“Small rooms can get cramped.”

Lin Xian, seated on the sofa, flipped through the latest New York Evening News.

“Remember that tiny Brooklyn motel for thirty cents a night? The room was so small it barely fit the bed. One of us even had to sleep on the floor. This is way better. At least now we have separate rooms.”

The sound of brushing teeth filled the room as CC glanced at Lin Xian on the sofa.

“Still… that place wasn’t so bad either,” she muttered under her breath.

Her voice was drowned out by the brushing.

…

The next morning, Lin Xian woke naturally.

Stretching lazily, he glanced at the clock on the bedroom wall. The hands read 12:42 p.m.

“What a long sleep,” he murmured, recalling how late they had returned the previous night.

That must have been why CC hadn’t woken him for breakfast, wanting him to rest.

“Huh?”

His eyes widened.

“Wait, no!”

12:42 p.m. in the U.S. meant it was already 12:42 a.m. in China!

Could it be that, after their conversation last night, today—her birthday—was when CC would dissolve into blue star fragments?

Panic surged as Lin Xian jumped out of bed, slipped on his slippers, and threw open the door.

“Lin Xian, you’re up!”

He looked up to see CC sitting cross-legged on the sofa, watching TV.

Relief washed over him.

He had been overly paranoid.

For now, CC hadn’t yet become a Millennial Stake. There was no reason for her to vanish into fragments.

“What’s wrong, Lin Xian?”

CC tilted her head, studying his tense expression.

“Did you have a nightmare?”

“No, no, nothing.”

Lin Xian coughed awkwardly.

“I just… huh? My voice?”

He rubbed his throat, startled at the raspy sound.

“Whoa, your voice is hoarse!”

CC jumped up from the sofa and handed him a glass of water.

“Here, drink this.”

Lin Xian gulped it down.

“Must’ve been the dry air.”

He tried to speak, but his voice remained unchanged—hoarse and cracked.

“This dry throat is unbearable… I can’t even talk properly without my voice breaking.”

“Dry throat?”

CC looked puzzled.

“Your throat’s hoarse, so why are you talking about fire? How could your throat catch fire?”

“It’s not literal fire, it’s a concept called shang huo,” Lin Xian explained in his raspy voice, struggling through the discomfort.

“Shang huo is a traditional Chinese term. Technically, it’s not even part of traditional Chinese medicine but more of a general concept used by people in Long Country. It’s usually caused by diet or weather… cough, cough…”

Saying so much at once made his throat feel like it had been scraped with sandpaper.

There was no doubt about it—his recent eating habits were to blame.

Hot dogs, cheese, burgers, fries, steak, popcorn, cola…

Just thinking about that diet now sent shivers down his spine.

“Do you even understand what I’m saying with this voice?” Lin Xian asked CC. “I feel like I sound like a broken-down air pump.”

“Hahaha, you kind of do!”

CC laughed, amused by his comparison.

“But honestly, your hoarse voice doesn’t sound bad. It reminds me of an Irish accent, and it actually makes your English pronunciation clearer.”

“Really?”

“Yeah,” CC said, grinning. “Before, your English had that obvious Long Country lilt, rising and falling like you were singing. But now, with your hoarse voice, you’re speaking softer, and it actually sounds like you’re a European man.”

“Proper English pronunciation should sound like this. Your voice breaking oddly makes you better at English. I guess it’s a blessing in disguise… Oh, but I’m not saying your original voice was bad—it was nice and magnetic too.”

“I get it,” Lin Xian nodded.

So this hoarse voice made him sound more like a “foreigner,” but it was far from good news for him.

“I still feel awful,” he muttered, walking over to the phone. He picked up the receiver.

“I need to order some light, cooling food to balance this heat. If I keep eating junk, I’ll completely lose my voice.”

He dialed the hotel kitchen.

“Hello, could you prepare something like mung bean soup or millet porridge?” he asked.

The chef on the other end was baffled.

“What’s that? We don’t have it.”

“How about seaweed egg drop soup?” Lin Xian tried again.

“What’s that?”

The chef remained clueless. “We don’t have seaweed.”

Lin Xian sighed.

“Fine. Just send up two raw eggs.”

“Raw eggs?!”

The chef’s voice shot up in surprise. “Are you sure, sir?”

“Yes, raw eggs, and quickly.”

Soon, a server brought up two raw eggs. CC trailed behind, curious to see what “magical Oriental remedy” Lin Xian would come up with this time.

“Are you some kind of caveman? Eating raw eggs?” she asked, skeptical.

“This is a remedy for shang huo,” Lin Xian explained.

He cracked one egg into a bowl, then poured boiling water over it, stirring rapidly with a spoon.

In an instant, the egg white and yolk solidified into delicate strands, floating in the bowl.

“Egg flower soup,” Lin Xian said, lifting a spoonful to show CC.

Under her stunned gaze, he drank the entire bowl.

“Ah, much better.”

CC wrinkled her nose.

“But your voice is still hoarse. It didn’t change at all.”

“Did you really think this was magic?” Lin Xian chuckled, only to cough again from speaking too quickly.

“It took days to get this way, and it’ll take time to recover.”

He picked up the second egg.

“Want to try a bowl?”

CC stepped back, shaking her head like a rattle.

…

That evening, the two strolled along the street.

Shops lit up with eerie decorations—grinning jack-o’-lanterns, gory mannequins, and plastic vampires with fake blood dripping from their fangs.

Seeing the unique designs, Lin Xian suddenly realized something.

“It’s Halloween today!”

“No, it’s tomorrow,” CC corrected. “November 1st is Halloween. Today, October 31st, is Halloween Eve. But you’re not wrong—Halloween celebrations peak tonight, with costume parties and parades.”

Due to cultural differences, Lin Xian wasn’t familiar with Halloween, having only seen it in American movies.

Back in Long Country, people might celebrate Christmas now and then, but Halloween wasn’t as popular—aside from bars occasionally jumping on the trend.

In America, though, Halloween was a big deal.

“How did you usually celebrate Halloween?” Lin Xian asked.

“Dressing up as ghosts and asking for candy, of course!”

CC giggled, her eyes curving into lovely crescent moons.

“Halloween is one of the most anticipated holidays for kids—no less than Christmas. But… after growing up, I couldn’t dress up anymore. Once I left the orphanage and started living on the streets, I barely participated.”

“After all, how could I afford to join costume parties? Even for parades, you’d need at least a costume.”

Lin Xian stopped mid-step and turned to CC, who glanced back at him curiously.

“Do you like dancing?”

In a dream, CC had loved dancing—a lively tap dance in Face Village that Lin Xian had taught her. It remained a cherished memory fragment in her mind.

As for Chu An Qing, there was no question. She had studied dance from a young age and was a professional.

So…

This was a question Lin Xian already knew the answer to before CC responded.

“Of course!”

Straightforward as ever, CC hopped to the side and flicked a jack-o’-lantern resting on the railing.

Thump, thump.

It was a real pumpkin, hollowed out and lit with a candle inside.

“Grandma at the orphanage taught us to dance,” CC said, resting her hand on the pumpkin. “She used to be a professional theater performer in her younger years. She was really good.”

“Grandma sounds like she could do anything,” Lin Xian remarked, unable to hide his admiration.

This legendary grandma seemed like a jack-of-all-trades, reminiscent of Emperor Gao Wen in her versatility.

“Well, since you said that…” Lin Xian grinned at CC, hands tucked in his pockets. “Let’s go to a costume party right now.”

“Huh?” CC froze for a moment. “Right now? Isn’t it a bit late?”

“Not at all.”

Lin Xian pulled a wad of cash from his coat pocket and waved it playfully.

“With money, anything is possible!”

…

Going to a costume party wasn’t a big deal. Halloween Eve was an inclusive celebration in America. It didn’t matter if your costume was elaborate or hastily thrown together—even just wearing a mask was enough to join in on the fun.

Lin Xian and CC hopped into a taxi, asking the driver for information about nearby parties.

In any city, taxi drivers were the best source of intel. If you wanted to know something, they were the people to ask.

“Oh, a costume party?” the bearded driver said with a hearty laugh. “You should go to the hall across from the cinema. Every year, they host the liveliest Halloween bash!”

He chuckled as he added, “I’ve already taken several groups there today—it’s really buzzing. Plus, they’ve got costume, makeup, and mask stands right outside the hall. Perfect for folks like you who didn’t prepare ahead of time.”

“Perfect.”

Lin Xian handed the driver an extra tip. “That’s where we’ll go.”

Soon, the taxi stopped outside the cinema where Lin Xian and CC had watched Alice in Wonderland the day before. Across the street, the hall hosting the costume party was bustling with activity. People in all sorts of strange outfits streamed in and out.

“Well, isn’t this a coincidence.”

Lin Xian stepped out of the cab, glancing at the two movie posters plastered on the cinema wall.

One was for The Big Tree Ridge Feud, the other for Alice in Wonderland—the same two films from yesterday.

He stared at the poster for The Big Tree Ridge Feud, noting the bold print of the lead actor’s name:

Kirk Douglas.

“We should watch this movie sometime,” Lin Xian said, turning to CC. “I feel like we’re fated—”

“Lin Xian!”

CC suddenly interrupted, grabbing his arm and shaking it vigorously. She pointed across the street, her voice unusually excited.

“Look! That black vintage car!”

Lin Xian looked up.

It was an unassuming old car, the kind that was common for this era.

“What about it? Have you seen it before?”

“Of course!” CC’s eyes widened as she looked at Lin Xian. “That’s the car that used to pass by the orphanage all the time—it’s Einstein’s car! I remember the license plate; I’d never forget it. That’s definitely his car!”

Einstein’s car…

Hearing this, Lin Xian’s instincts immediately went on high alert.

He pulled CC closer, positioning her to face him with her back to the street. Carefully, he pulled up the hood of her coat to cover her head, concealing her as much as possible.

Then, narrowing his eyes, he focused on the car that had just parked.

From the front door, a chauffeur wearing white gloves stepped out, walking around to the rear passenger side. He opened the door and bent slightly, holding it wide.

A puff of white, unruly hair emerged from the car first.

An elderly man stepped out, straightening his clothes before turning around.

His face was lined with exhaustion, his gaze distant and lifeless. Even the dense mustache on his upper lip seemed weighed down by fatigue.

Lin Xian drew a sharp breath.

That face…

There was no mistaking it.

He had seen it countless times in textbooks, the face of a monumental figure in the history of physics.

It was the same face immortalized in the mask of the Genius Club’s chairman.

Albert Einstein.