Lin Xian was deep in thought. He needed to figure out if the safe was truly meant for him or if the connection to his name was just a coincidence.
“All I need to do is send a message to my future self,” Lin Xian mused. “If I ever set a new password for an aluminum alloy safe, it must always be the same. I wouldn’t ignore advice from my younger self.”
Why argue with his own past?
Realizing that a letter might not be necessary—as long as he committed to this decision, his future self would likely follow through—Lin Xian still considered the importance of a written reminder. “Writing it down might be wise, just in case I forget decades from now,” he reasoned, recalling Professor Xu Yun’s warning about potential memory loss associated with hibernation. If he were to forget this agreement during such a time, today’s decision would be futile.
So, he began to write:
“To my future self,
Hello.
This is Lin Xian from 2023. When you choose a password for an aluminum alloy safe in the future, please use 29990203.
You might steer clear of our usual birthday for security reasons, but I trust this password is secure enough.
0203 is our lunar birthday, and 2999 adds a thousand years to our birth year. It’s easy to remember.
Keep it simple for yourself!
If you are indeed the one who sets this safe’s password in the future, remember 29990203!
Commit it to memory!”
After finishing the letter, Lin Xian capped his pen and reviewed his words. The whole exercise felt strange, even slightly absurd, but it served its purpose.
From that moment, he was resolute: “No matter what happens or what significant dates I encounter, I will always set the aluminum alloy safe’s password to 29990203!”
He reiterated this commitment to himself multiple times.
Okay. It was now firmly ingrained in his memory.
If the safe really belonged to him and his future self had set the password, the butterfly effect should begin now.
Tomorrow, in his dream, the safe with his name should accept the password 29990203.
He stood, folded the letter, and placed it in a small iron box in his wardrobe, a box that held many items dear to him over the years. The letter had now earned its spot among them.
“Trust my future self to honor this decision.”
After tidying up, Lin Xian returned to his desk. His dreams had revealed much but also left him with numerous puzzles to solve. He needed to strategize how to tackle them one by one.
His immediate task was to meet with CC to confirm her identity and attempt to open the aluminum alloy safe. Next, he aimed to devise a plan to infiltrate New Donghai City.
He was also set on finding two specific books and locating Big Cat Face’s father.
Hints abounded that the number 42 was a universal constant, critical and feared by the Genius Club. Understanding its significance could be key to deciphering the Genius Club’s motives and possibly finding leverage to oppose them.
To Lin Xian, the number 42 seemed harmless. He couldn’t fathom its threat or importance, despite its potential to influence time-space and trigger a future butterfly effect. But 42 was just a number. Big Cat Face’s father had scribbled 42 all over his walls with no apparent effect. Lin Xian saw no special significance or power in the number.
The straightforward plan would be to directly interrogate Big Cat Face’s father, but that was also the most daunting task.
First, the challenge of safely entering New Donghai City loomed large. The city, much larger than the current Donghai City, made finding Big Cat Face’s father in its vast populace seem nearly impossible. Moreover, given that he was likely detained and controlled by the Genius Club, the task became even more complex.
“Given the Genius Club’s capabilities, they are undoubtedly well-prepared.”
“But what resources do I have? Even if CC has a gun, storming a high-tech city with just that is out of the question.”
Discovering the original author of the book “Introduction to Universal Constants” in 2023 appeared to be a viable strategy. Lin Xian turned to the internet, searching for clues about the book described as a 600-year-old relic from 2624, meaning it would have been published around 2024. If it was important enough for someone to be buried with, it likely originated a few years earlier.
Academic works often take years, even a lifetime, to complete. Lin Xian hoped his online search might uncover some leads.
However, his search yielded nothing until a name caught his eye: Einstein.
“I remember now.”
Einstein was connected to the concept of a universal constant through his infamous cosmological constant, introduced in his younger days to account for a static universe. This constant, inconsequential on a galactic scale but significant on a cosmic scale, was later renounced by Einstein himself, who considered it his greatest mistake.
One hand fighting the other—a compelling scientific narrative.
Yet, Lin Xian knew Einstein’s cosmological constant had no connection to the universal constant 42. Suggesting to Einstein that “the cosmological constant is 42” would be nonsensical.
This too led nowhere.
Lin Xian turned off his phone, realizing that understanding the true significance of 42 still necessitated infiltrating New Donghai City as planned.
He moved to the kitchen, crumpled up the A4 paper with his thoughts, placed it in a baking tray, and watched it burn.
Safety first. These notes revealed his intent to delve into the Genius Club and the universal constant 42, which opposed the Genius Club. If discovered, he could face a fate similar to Professor Xu Yun’s orchestrated accident.
“Xu Yun was a distinguished scientist, warranting a meticulously planned accident at 00:42.”
“But what about someone like me? Who knows how they’d deal with me.”
Considering the Genius Club’s potential control over history, extreme caution was essential. Additionally, the positions of MX Company and Zhao Ying Jun remained ambiguous.
“Walking on thin ice…”
After incinerating the papers, Lin Xian flushed the ashes down the toilet and headed back to bed for a nap.
The next morning, Lin Xian skipped work. After dining at a nearby mall, he visited a private cinema. Unlike regular theaters, this one offered private rooms where patrons could watch old films on demand.
After scanning a code to pay, the attendant smiled and handed him an iPad to select a film.
“What movie would you like to watch? We offer a broad range of old movies, all authorized, in HD, complete with official extras,” the attendant said.
“I’ll watch this one, The Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy.” Lin Xian responded, scrolling through the options.
This novel is translated and hosted on bcatranslation