Gao Yang slammed his hand down on the table, clearly frustrated. “This is ridiculous! Our class reunion was supposed to have exactly 41 people! Who’s this 42nd person? Is a ghost going to show up next?!”
Next to him, Xia Yuan coughed sharply and grabbed Gao Yang’s arm. “Relax, Gao Yang. It’s New Year’s, no need for ghost stories.”
Lin Xian perked up, intrigued by the mysterious number. He squinted at Gao Yang. “How many people are actually here today?”
Gao Yang stood up quickly. “41, of course! It would be the same even if the king showed up!” He pulled a crumpled list from his pocket and handed it to Lin Xian. “See for yourself.”
Lin Xian looked over the wrinkled paper, which had names checked off in three columns, ending at 41. Everyone was accounted for.
“I don’t understand.” Gao Yang began counting out loud, pointing at each table. “1, 2, 3… 39, 40, 41!” He glared at the waiter. “See? Exactly 41!”
Lin Xian sighed and turned to Gao Yang. “Did you count yourself in that?”
“Huh?” Gao Yang scratched his head, then realized his mistake. Laughter filled the room. Lin Xian pointed out that Gao Yang had left himself off the list.
“You never cease to amaze,” Lin Xian laughed.
Gao Yang chuckled awkwardly and sat down. “Oops, my bad! Waiter, we need 42 sets, please! Ha!” He raised his glass. “Let’s toast to our reunion!”
“And you owe three drinks for that mistake, class president!” another classmate shouted, sparking more laughter.
Lin Xian smiled as well, though his thoughts were elsewhere. The number 42—it was an error this time, but it kept appearing. Was it still just a coincidence?
Two people at the reunion seemed out of place: Tang Xin and Zhou Duan Yun. Zhou Duan Yun’s presence made sense—they hadn’t been close in high school, but a lot can change in three years. Lin Xian’s vague recollection of him wasn’t unusual.
But Tang Xin was a different story. They had only shared a few days as classmates, practically strangers. Yet, Tang Xin recognized him immediately and with confidence. It puzzled Lin Xian.
It reminded him of his visit to Zhao Ying Jun’s office. There, Yellow Finch knew everything about him, even things he hadn’t shared, like details about space-time laws. What was happening? Could people read his mind? Or was his life broadcasted like in “The Truman Show”?
Encouraged by Gao Yang, Lin Xian took another drink as a fruit platter arrived. He’d drunk too much; his head spun. The mix of alcohol and swirling thoughts pushed him to act. He’d been too passive, ensnared in various schemes.
With the Genius Club clues exhausted and Yellow Finch warning of imminent danger in a “cat and mouse” game, Lin Xian’s only lead was the recurring number 42.
He wasn’t sure if the earlier miscount was a hint, but it was time to explore more. He planned to visit the university to meet the author of “Introduction to the Cosmic Constant.”
Who was the 42nd classmate? Lin Xian bit into a watermelon slice, amused. Was it Gao Yang, who forgot to count himself? Tang Xin, barely a classmate? Or Zhou Duan Yun, the last to arrive?
“What’s up, Lin Xian? Why the smile?” Tang Xin grinned at him, and Lin Xian shook his head with a smile. “Just reminiscing about our school days and everything that’s passed.”
“Exactly!” Gao Yang exclaimed, slamming the table and lifting his glass. “To our youth!”
Lin Xian mused that perhaps Gao Yang was a genius after all. “Let’s drink, Lin Xian. We haven’t yet today,” Zhou Duan Yun approached with a smile, raising his glass. They clinked glasses. “I always looked up to you in school.”
“What’s there to admire?” Lin Xian replied modestly. “You’re the successful one now.”
“That’s not it,” Zhou Duan Yun said, looking nostalgic. “In high school, you were a parkour champ, liked by everyone. You stood for what was right, and I admired that.”
“It might seem silly, but I wanted to be like you—respected and liked,” Zhou Duan Yun continued.
Zhou Duan Yun’s compliments left Lin Xian uneasy, more so than the flamboyant display of his Rolls-Royce had. He had assumed Zhou Duan Yun was just showing off, but now he wasn’t so sure.
“In high school, I was just good at sports. Real life is different,” Lin Xian responded modestly. “Now, I’m just an ordinary guy, while you’ve really made something of yourself.”
Lin Xian offered Zhou Duan Yun a friendly smile. “Trust me, if we swapped lives, you wouldn’t want mine.”
“I would,” Zhou Duan Yun insisted, slightly drunk but sincere. “I’ve spent years trying to match people like you.”
“You’ve had too much to drink,” Lin Xian chuckled, patting Zhou Duan Yun on the shoulder as they returned to their seats.
He understood Zhou Duan Yun’s feelings. For some, adulthood is about overcoming their childhood struggles, while others find strength in those early years. For Zhou Duan Yun, who grew up poor and insecure, owning a Rolls-Royce now might not mean as much as a new pair of sneakers back then.
Lin Xian remembered how Zhou Duan Yun’s clothes were always hand-me-downs, his shoes worn and patched. He used to stay at his desk, hoping no one would notice his tattered shoes. Even though their classmates were kind, sometimes their kindness felt like a sharp jab—well-intended but painful.
But Zhou Duan Yun had succeeded. He was the star of the reunion, his luxury car erasing any memories of past embarrassments. Yet, it seemed he was the only one who still remembered those hard times.
As the night went on and classmates began to leave, those who remained gathered at one table, talking into the early hours. The girls had all left, except for Tang Xin, who sat quietly next to Lin Xian, smiling occasionally, content to stay until the end.
Eventually, the party wound down, everyone quite tipsy thanks to Gao Yang, the night’s enthusiastic emcee. Zhou Duan Yun, with a driver, offered rides to some classmates, while others called for taxis or rideshares.
Lin Xian and Gao Yang were among the last to leave. Gao Yang went to settle the bill, leaving Lin Xian to escort Tang Xin to the restaurant door.
“How did you get here tonight?” Lin Xian asked Tang Xin as they reached the entrance.
“I came by taxi,” Tang Xin replied, pointing to a waiting cab. “I’ll take one back, too.”
She waved, her smile warm. “I’ll see you back in Donghai City!”
Lin Xian nodded and smiled back. “Take care getting home—it’s late.”
Out of habit, he glanced at his watch. 00:41. Suddenly anxious, Lin Xian quickly grasped Tang Xin’s delicate wrist.
“Hey?” Tang Xin looked back in surprise, puzzled as Lin Xian held her wrist a bit too tightly.
Lin Xian, still feeling the effects of the alcohol, managed a smile. “Actually… there’s something I want to discuss.”
“Sure,” Tang Xin replied, her demeanor still graceful despite the suddenness. “Should we find a different spot, or…?”
“Here is fine,” Lin Xian said, carefully keeping her away from the curb as he let go of her wrist. Recalling Professor Xu Yun’s untimely death, he felt a protective instinct surge. It was nearly 00:42, and given Tang Xin’s research on hibernation, Lin Xian couldn’t shake a nagging worry.
With the taxi driver distracted and no other cars in sight, Lin Xian’s caution might have seemed excessive. freēwēbηovel.c૦m
But just to be safe, he decided to wait until after 00:42. If his suspicions were correct, the killers struck only within a minute-long window each night. “What’s wrong, Lin Xian?” Tang Xin asked, playing with her short hair and rocking on her heels, smiling curiously at him.
Lin Xian refocused, meeting her gaze. “Actually, there’s something I’ve been curious about.”
“Oh? What is it?”
“You mentioned earlier that the side effects of hibernation aren’t just about memory loss but something more severe.”
“Yes,” Tang Xin chuckled lightly, relaxed. “Are you really that curious?”
“Just a bit,” Lin Xian admitted with a smile. “Could you explain it to me?”
This novel is translated and hosted on bcatranslation