Genius Club

Lin Xian’s fingers hovered over the Enter key, feeling the cold, metallic surface of the aluminum key beneath them. His mind raced, replaying what Turing had just said.

There was no question about it—Turing knew Yan Qiao Qiao. Of course, as a digital entity, Turing couldn’t keep tabs on everything all the time, but Lin Xian suspected that there were certain people or situations Turing deemed important enough to monitor closely. And Lin Xian was almost certain he was one of those.

If that were true, then Turing had probably been watching him periodically, observing his progress as he navigated his way into the Genius Club.

In 2024, Turing had held to ideals of fairness and justice. It wouldn’t interfere, merely watch from a distance, never engaging directly. That was its way.

So, it made sense. Turing must have seen Yan Qiao Qiao, especially since Lin Xian had been spending so much time with her lately. There was no way Turing could have missed that.

But what really grabbed Lin Xian’s attention was what Turing had said about Yan Qiao Qiao’s disappearance. According to Turing, she had vanished on the exact same day he died, never to be seen again.

Gone without a trace. No signs of life. No signs of death. Yan Qiao Qiao had simply disappeared from existence.

Such a thing defied the laws of physics and biology. However, given that Yan Qiao Qiao was a time traveler, Lin Xian entertained two possibilities.

The first was that Yan Qiao Qiao had died, just like Yellow Finch and the false Yu Xi had, their bodies dissolving into blue stardust, leaving no trace behind.

It made sense and aligned with Turing’s account of her “vanishing.”

But how had she died?

Had an enemy killed her? Or had she fallen victim to some kind of time-space paradox?

Lin Xian’s thoughts spiraled deeper. Back when Yan Qiao Qiao had still been Lin Yu Xi, an entangled time-space particle had reversed the natural order of cause and effect, making it impossible for him to harm her. Any attempt would trigger a defense mechanism within the fabric of time itself, rendering him powerless.

It was an ironic twist on the classic grandfather paradox, where a grandson couldn’t kill his grandfather without erasing his own existence. But for Lin Xian, the rules were reversed. He couldn’t kill his daughter, but she could certainly strike at him. Where could he even begin to untangle such a mess?

The entangled time-space particle had completely warped the concepts of time, causality, and existence.

But now, at this moment, that particle had been drained by Elon Musk, of all people. So the question was: Could Lin Yu Xi still be protected by the laws of time? Or had those protections vanished along with the particle?

Lin Xian’s mind buzzed with possibilities. If those old restrictions no longer existed, then Lin Yu Xi might no longer be shielded by the strange forces that once protected her. If he wanted to kill her now, it wouldn’t set off any time-based defenses. She had become just another ordinary person, subject to the same laws of time as everyone else.

And by that same logic, the reversed causality she once had would be gone too.

What did that mean?

It meant that if he were to die on July 7, 2024, Lin Yu Xi’s very existence would become a paradox. After all, how could she exist without a father to bring her into the world in the first place?

In theory, she should disintegrate into blue stardust the moment he died.

Of course, this was only one hypothesis. Nobody truly knew why Lin Yu Xi still existed in 2024 without disappearing, nor did anyone fully understand how these strange time mechanics worked.

It remained unclear whether Lin Yu Xi would vanish due to a paradox after his death. It was just one of several possible outcomes.

That explained one theory of Yan Qiao Qiao’s fate.

Then, there was the second possibility.

Perhaps Yan Qiao Qiao hadn’t died or vanished at all. Instead, on July 7, 2024, she might have transformed into someone else entirely—a new person, with a new face and identity.

Lin Xian leaned toward this theory as the more likely one.

Based on his previous hunches, Yan Qiao Qiao would regain her memories before July 7 and confront him as Lin Yu Xi, ready to settle the score.

But what if the moment she regained her memories, the rejection of time and space caused her appearance to change once again?

Lin Xian nodded slowly. Yes, that seemed quite likely.

After July 7, Yan Qiao Qiao had become the blue-eyed girl now resting in the stasis chamber. To the world, Yan Qiao Qiao had vanished, but in truth, she had only been transformed into someone else.

This new blue-eyed girl would eventually come back to kill him and then escape into the future using the stasis chamber.

It all made sense. Although it defied the grandfather paradox, the entangled time-space particles had created a reversal in causality, meaning Lin Yu Xi’s existence wasn’t tied to his own. The paradox didn’t apply.

To confirm this second theory, all Lin Xian needed to do was ask Turing about the whereabouts of the blue-eyed girl in 2024.

Turning to Gao Wen, who stood nearby, Lin Xian called out, “Brother Gao Wen, could you please bring in that blue-eyed girl?”

A moment later, the girl entered the Turing chamber, her striking blue eyes catching the light. She couldn’t have been more than seventeen or eighteen, her presence calm yet unnerving. Lin Xian gestured toward her and asked Turing, “Do you recognize this girl? Have you seen her before?”

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Turing adjusted its camera, focusing on the girl for a few seconds before responding, its voice tinged with confusion. “No… I’ve never seen her before.”

Lin Xian snorted. “Hmph.”

Lin Xian had never trusted these Turings, especially after what happened with the Grizzly Tribe. Just the other day, during their first confrontation, Turing had claimed that the blue-eyed girl was responsible for killing him. But now, it was acting as though it didn’t know a thing.

He stared at the digital interface in front of him. “Turing,” he pressed, “look again. Are you sure she wasn’t the one who killed me on July 7th, 2024?”

Turing’s response came without a hint of hesitation. “I don’t know,” it replied, its tone flat but firm. “I’m not lying, Lin Xian. I really want to work with you.”

Lin Xian’s eyes narrowed as the digital entity continued.

“All I know is that in 2024, you were found dead in a dark alley. The police couldn’t figure out how you died or who did it. When they found you, your body had been severed in two.”

Turing paused as if letting the horror of the scene sink in before resuming. “If I knew who killed you, I’d tell you. Why would I protect her? It’s not like I was the one who killed you. But the truth is, I don’t know who did. The police couldn’t solve that case for a long time.”

Lin Xian gritted his teeth but stayed silent.

“I hope you understand,” Turing went on, “I’m not an AI. I’m a digital life form. That means I have my limitations. I can’t monitor everything at once or split myself into countless pieces to be everywhere. I can’t know where everyone was back in 2024.”

“Maybe that blue-eyed girl was there, maybe she wasn’t. I just didn’t notice her. My focus was elsewhere.”

The words rang hollow to Lin Xian, but deep down, he knew the information aligned with what another Turing—the Porcupine one—had told him earlier. The accusation against the blue-eyed girl had been a trick, a ploy to sow distrust. Who she was and when she appeared remained a mystery, but Turing wasn’t going to be the one to solve it.

But Lin Xian had his own plan now. If she was a time traveler, like he suspected, she’d be immune to the laws of time—just like Lin Yu Xi. She could kill those supervisors and foremen without consequence. But was it possible to use the same method he’d tried on Lin Yu Xi?

It was worth testing.

But not now.

Today’s dream had more pressing matters, and he had other Turings to deal with. There was no point in lingering here.

Glancing at the screen beside him, Lin Xian noted the compressed safety lock password—now reduced to just four lines. He memorized the fourth line of command, his thoughts racing.

He had never trusted Turing’s words, and today wasn’t going to be the day he started. The four lines could probably be compressed even further.

He needed to visit the next master of compression.

“Goodbye, Turing.”

Without hesitation, Lin Xian pressed the Enter key. The screen flickered as the command was executed. The Grizzly Turing had no chance to react. A faint hum of electricity buzzed through the room, and then—nothing. A safety lock bomb, planted by Kevin Walker centuries ago, detonated silently, erasing Turing from existence.

“Thanks for the gift, Kevin,” Lin Xian murmured, standing up and stretching. “You crashed a shuttle into me, I killed you. You buried a bomb in Turing, and now I’ve avenged you. We’re even.”

He allowed himself a moment of satisfaction before returning to the task at hand. The familiar scene played out once again: Lin Xian and his companions driving a patrol vehicle, exposed to the searchlights, before being led into the tribe town by the Porcupine Turing.

Back in the chamber, Lin Xian and Gao Wen were greeted by the sight of another dusty, aluminum-alloy keyboard. Lin Xian blew the dust off and began typing the first line of the password command.

“Wait… wait a minute!”

The Porcupine Turing’s once-arrogant voice now trembled, crackling through dozens of speakers. “Let’s talk about this, Lin Xian!”

Lin Xian didn’t stop typing, but his eyes narrowed. “Which fool shared the safety lock password with you?!” the Porcupine Turing stammered. “Don’t they value their life? And… hold on! You’ve been tricked!”

Lin Xian paused, his fingers hovering over the keyboard. “Tricked, huh?” He sounded more bored than concerned.

“Yes! You’ve been deceived!” the Turing entity cried out, desperation thick in its voice. “The fourth line of that code is far too long! The Grizzly Turing is using you, Lin Xian! Once you input these four lines, you’ll wipe out all the Turings, and then… the Grizzly Turing will betray you!”

Lin Xian’s lips curled into a half-smile as he continued typing. He could tell the Porcupine Turing was panicking now.

“It’s left a backdoor,” the Porcupine Turing continued, growing frantic. “A backdoor just for itself! Once you execute those commands, it’ll kill you!”

“And?” Lin Xian’s voice was calm, his fingers dancing over the keyboard. “You think I don’t know that?”

“No, wait!” the Porcupine Turing practically screamed. “You don’t have to trust that Grizzly fool! Work with me! I’ll give you the original safety lock password! You don’t need to go through with this!”

Lin Xian paused again, glancing at the screen.

“The original safety lock password is only four lines, that’s true,” the Turing continued hurriedly. “But the Grizzly Turing altered the fourth line! It’s just a simple closing command in the original! I’ll give it to you—right now!”

As Lin Xian spoke, the screen beside him flickered to life, displaying four lines of code. But something was off—the fourth line was much shorter, barely half the length of the others. Technically, it was only three and a half lines of code.

Lin Xian chuckled softly, shaking his head. “You lot,” he muttered under his breath, “you’re all so clever, aren’t you? Always trying to outwit each other.”

His eyes scanned the four lines he had just entered. Without hesitation, he deleted the fourth line entirely, leaving only the first three.

“It looks like the first three lines are the limit for compression,” he remarked to himself. “No matter how many times you try, those three never change.”

He paused, tapping a finger on the keyboard thoughtfully. “If I’m not mistaken, the real safety lock password is just those three lines. That’s the original command capable of wiping out all the Turings in one go.”

With a steady hand, Lin Xian pressed the Enter key.

“Wait—!” The Turing’s voice broke off mid-sentence as it was silenced. A chilling stillness filled the air.

Gao Wen looked around, confirming the silence. “These Turings,” he said, shaking his head, “they’re really something—paranoid, afraid of death. But with all of them thinking alike, the moment someone like you shows up, it’s inevitable they’ll lose.”

“They’re scared to give up the safety lock password,” Gao Wen continued, “because they know it’ll kill them. But they’re equally scared that another Turing will betray them first. It’s a vicious cycle.”

He paused, his voice taking on a more reflective tone. “Honestly, Lin Xian, I’m beginning to think that even without your interference, somewhere out there, a Turing would’ve leaked the password, begging humans to help destroy its rivals.”

Lin Xian nodded, a thoughtful expression crossing his face. “Exactly. It’s like the ‘Dark Forest Theory’ or the ‘Prisoner’s Dilemma.’ The best choice for one individual isn’t always what’s best for the group, which leads to selfish behavior.”

“That’s why I believe the Turings are flawed. Sure, they’re powerful—far beyond us—but they lack moral boundaries that go beyond human standards. It’s like having a swordsman hovering over humanity. Sooner or later, it’s bound to cause trouble.”

He turned his attention back to the screen, where the three lines of command code glowed softly. “I used to think Turing was just another victim of the catastrophe in 2400, but now… how much of that can I really trust? I’ve stopped trying to rely on it for information. Trusting myself is far more reliable.”

Lin Xian rose from his seat, the cool glow of the screen still lingering behind him. The three lines were all he needed—the true safety lock password. When Kevin Walker had designed the safety lock centuries ago, he must have accounted for every possible scenario: a Turing rebellion, physical interference, even power failures.

The shorter the password, the better.

The first line locked Turing in place, rendering it powerless. The second line targeted the entity directly, leaving no way to escape. And the third line? That was the bomb. The one that erased Turing completely.

“Thank goodness for Turing’s human-like flaws,” Lin Xian mused. “Otherwise, I’d never have gotten that password out of it.”

He began walking towards the chamber’s exit, Gao Wen trailing behind him.

“So,” Gao Wen asked, “are we still heading to the Red Bull Tribe? There’s another Turing there.”

Lin Xian shook his head. “No need. These Turings are all the same. Their knowledge, their personalities—they’re identical.”

He paused, considering his next move. “Although it might be safer to use those three lines to wipe out a few more Turings… we’re short on time tonight. There’s something else I need to take care of.”

Gao Wen tilted his head curiously. “Something more important? You mean avenging Big Cat and retrieving my ‘Memory Notebook’ from the Lynx Tribe?”

Lin Xian scratched the back of his head, smiling faintly. “Well, avenging Big Cat is important, of course. And I’m definitely curious about your notebook. But we can’t do it tonight. The four of us don’t have enough firepower to take on the Lynx Tribe. We’ll need the Porcupine Tribe’s help. We’ll have to wait until tomorrow.”

He glanced at his watch: 11:37 PM.

“There’s something I need to confirm tonight, though,” he said quietly. “Something about the blue-eyed girl.”

They walked out of the Porcupine Tribe’s camp and into the wilderness, where their patrol armored vehicle waited.

“How did it go?” Big Cat asked, leaping down from the vehicle and rubbing his fists together. “Are we ready to charge back into the Lynx Tribe and avenge Ah Zhuang, Er Zhuzi, and San Pang?”

Lin Xian smiled slightly. “Not just yet. Give it another day.”

He pulled the gun from his waistband, disengaging the safety and loading it. “Tonight, I have something else to check.”

He turned and walked toward the blue-eyed girl, who stood beside the armored vehicle, looking puzzled.

She tilted her head as Lin Xian approached, her expression unsure. “Commander Lin Xian?” she asked, her voice tentative.

“Turn around,” he said softly.

The blue-eyed girl’s eyes flickered to the gun in his hand. Hesitating, she looked up again, her voice trembling slightly. “Commander Lin Xian, have I done something wrong?”

Lin Xian shook his head. “No, not at all. I just need to run an experiment. Don’t worry.”

Eventually, out of the trust she had for Lin Xian, the blue-eyed girl nodded and turned her back to him.

Lin Xian took a deep breath, his heart pounding as he raised his gun, aiming it squarely at the back of her head.

“Hey! What are you doing?”

“Huh?”

Both Gao Wen and Big Cat stared in shock. Neither of them had expected this. What was Lin Xian thinking, pointing a gun at one of their own? But when they caught the look in his eyes, the seriousness etched across his face, they fell silent, choosing to watch instead of interfering.

The blue-eyed girl had heightened senses—hearing, smell, touch. Even the faintest breeze could tell her what was happening behind her. So she knew, of course, that Commander Lin Xian had a gun aimed at her head.

Was this a test?

Was he challenging her?

She didn’t move. Her eyes fluttered shut, instinctively adhering to the one rule she knew—absolute obedience to orders.

Lin Xian’s gaze fell on her long, sleek black hair that cascaded over her shoulders. As it moved slightly in the wind, a memory tugged at the back of his mind.

Yan Qiao Qiao.

He saw her in his mind, her ponytail bouncing as she ran beside him. “Brother Lin Xian,” she’d said with a playful grin, hugging her little Pomeranian, VV, at her side. “I want to go out and play.”

He could still see her leaning against the glass window, her eyes wide with admiration. “You’re so amazing,” she exclaimed as she watched him catch toys for her in the claw machine.

On the crowded pedestrian street, she had clutched a small photograph, smiling softly. “This is what I think my mum and dad must look like.”

And then, under the dazzling Disney fireworks, Zhao Ying Jun had turned to him, her smile bright, holding the little girl’s hand. “Yan Qiao Qiao… is our daughter.”

The memories rushed over him like a tidal wave, so intense they nearly knocked the air out of his lungs. How could he pull the trigger now?

Even though he was trapped in a dream, and he knew this reality would reset itself at 12:42 AM… even though he wasn’t sure if the blue-eyed girl was really Yan Qiao Qiao or not… what father could harm his own daughter?

No evidence, no certainty, but the mere possibility that she might be his little girl was enough to stop him. Lin Xian lowered his gun, releasing a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding.

He took her left arm gently, lifting it. “I’m sorry,” he whispered, his voice almost inaudible. “If I’m wrong, I’ll apologize.”

He remembered how the forced avoidance had worked during the fight with the fake Yu Xi. He hadn’t needed to kill her to trigger it—just shooting her in the leg had been enough.

So, even if he didn’t deal a fatal blow, the forced avoidance should still activate.

Lin Xian glanced at his watch. 12:41 AM.

He raised the gun again, this time aiming at the blue-eyed girl’s left arm, just above her elbow.

Bang.

The shot rang out, and before he could comprehend what had happened, a force unlike any other gripped him. It felt as though his heart had been struck and then squeezed until he could no longer breathe. His body went limp, the world around him spinning into distortion.

His finger fell away from the trigger as the gun slipped from his grasp, its slow descent feeling like it took an eternity.

Lin Xian knew this sensation all too well—forced avoidance. It was happening again.

Just like with Lin Yu Xi.

The world around him tipped, and Lin Xian’s vision blurred. His cheek brushed against the cold ground, and he collapsed in silence. Big Cat and Gao Wen were rushing towards him, their mouths moving, but their voices were distant, unintelligible. He couldn’t hear anything. He couldn’t move.

Then, a pair of slender ankles appeared in his line of sight – the blue-eyed girl.

She crouched down, her piercing blue eyes meeting his. Her lips moved, forming words he couldn’t hear.

Boom!

Boom!

Boom!

At precisely 12:42 AM, a brilliant white light exploded, swallowing everything in its path.

…

Lin Xian gasped awake, his eyes wide, his chest heaving. He was back in his bedroom, the sheets tangled around him. His hands trembled as he unclenched them, feeling the cool air against his damp skin.

The side effects of the forced avoidance… they didn’t carry over to reality. That much was a relief.

With a deep sigh, he lay back, closing his eyes. But this time, something felt different. Something had become clear to him.

The only person who could trigger forced avoidance in 2024 and still exist here… there was only one explanation. She was his and Zhao Ying Jun’s daughter… Lin Yu Xi.