Prodigy’s Playground

Chapter 142 Chi Xiaoguo’s Secret

“Father.”

The old man in Tang attire trembled as he held the coin that represented himself.

“As a priest, it is my duty to lead the believers of the Mutual Aid Society to always do what is right.”

“In this day and age, too many people’s regrets, too many people’s sufferings… in truth, all stem from how fast this era is developing. It forces many people to get off midway, eliminates many, leaves many unable to keep up with the pace of the times.”

“People always say this world is survival of the fittest, but they never consider that soon enough, they themselves will also be eliminated by the era… Right now, this is the fastest age since the birth of human civilization—yet beneath the surface prosperity, it has already drifted away from humanity itself.”

“Yeah.”

The middle-aged man leaned back against the redwood chair and sighed.

“In today’s world, the gaps in wealth, knowledge, cognition, lifestyle… they’ve all grown to an unimaginable extent. People who don’t know how to use smartphones can no longer live normally; those who just graduated and started working find what they learned already outdated before they’ve even finished applying it; and in just the past two years, the leap in AI technology has taken away the livelihoods of entire industries.”

[This world should not only focus on the elites’ stars and oceans—it should pay more attention to the daily necessities of ordinary people.]

[Advanced technology and overly rapid development often only create the illusion of a flourishing civilization, without truly improving the lives of the working masses.]“I miss the past deeply… when carriages were slow, everything was slow, everything took time—but people’s happiness was not diminished in the slightest. In today’s cities… I rarely see young people smiling from the heart anymore.”

The old man in Tang attire closed his eyes, his breathing heavy.

“The tide of the times cannot be stopped. It has given humanity much… but it has taken even more.”

[It’s time to put the brakes on this runaway horse of an era.]

The middle-aged man gave a helpless smile.

“Unfortunately, this wild horse… can’t be pulled back by us alone.”

“It doesn’t matter.”

The old man stood, pocketing the two coins from the table.

He looked up at the crystal chandelier above, his gaze sharp as a blade.

[As long as we win this game… the world will become as we wish.]

The next morning, when Jiang Ran arrived at the film club, Old Tian was already outside sweeping, waving at him in greeting.

“Quite a lot of trash today.”

Old Tian chuckled.

“Looks like a battle happened here yesterday.”

Jiang Ran let out a light laugh.

“Calling it a battle wouldn’t be an exaggeration. Yesterday was the club recruitment fair—every club set up booths here. Naturally, it’s a mess to clean up today.”

“Oh, I see, I see.”

Old Tian nodded in realization, bending over to sweep.

“Ah… you college students really have it good. So full of youth and vitality. To be honest, every time I see you all like this, I can’t help but think of my daughter…”

“Coincidentally, when she was little, her biggest dream was to study at Donghai University. I don’t even know where she heard about it. Kids her age dream about Tsinghua and Peking University, but she talked about Donghai University every single day.”

As he spoke of his daughter, Old Tian’s expression softened into a tearful, bittersweet smile.

“Back then, before anything happened to her, one New Year when I went home, I joked with her—said that if she really got into Donghai University one day, I’d also go to Donghai City, find a job, and accompany her while she studied. How about that?”

“She was so happy, jumping up and down, insisting on a pinky promise. Said it was a deal—that she would definitely go to Donghai University when she grew up.”

At this point, Old Tian straightened up and sighed.

“My connection with Donghai University probably started back then. Her grades were good—she always got certificates—so I actually seriously considered it…”

“I looked it up online. People said Donghai University ranks third in the country, not inferior to Tsinghua or Peking. From that moment on, influenced by her, Donghai University also became something I longed for.”

“I really looked forward to the day I could personally carry her luggage, send her into the dorms at Donghai University… then find a job nearby, see her every now and then… Ah. In the end, fate plays tricks on people.”

Old Tian bent over by the flowerbed, picking up scraps of paper hidden beneath the leaves.

Jiang Ran had nothing much to say.

He could only comfort Old Tian, telling him that medicine and science were advancing rapidly, and that he should give doctors and scientists more time.

Old Tian told Jiang Ran that Yan Chonghan was indeed a good person.

“Teacher Yan is a good man. I can tell—he has a kind heart.”

“But… that plan he mentioned, I still need to think about it. It’s hard for me to make a decision right now.”

Jiang Ran patted his shoulder.

“It’s okay. Don’t put so much pressure on yourself. There’s still plenty of time—you don’t need to rush your decision.”

Before long, the two of them finished cleaning the area in smooth coordination.

Jiang Ran watched Old Tian ride off on his tricycle, then circled to the front of the student activity building and entered the film club activity room.

Chi Xiaoguo had been waiting there for quite a while.

She was folding up the promotional boards and storing them away.

“Let’s keep these for next year’s recruitment.”

There was a hint of helplessness in her voice.

“Next year I’ll be a senior… no idea who I’ll pass the president position to.”

“You could go for graduate school.”

Jiang Ran smiled.

“For undergrads here, getting into this university’s graduate program isn’t too hard. If you get in, you’ll stay another three years—conservatively speaking, you could still be president for two more.”

“Ugh~ that’s way too close!”

Chi Xiaoguo pouted.

“It makes us sound like some declining sect with no successors!”

…Well.

Jiang Ran gave a wry smile.

Wasn’t that basically the truth?

He walked behind the shelves, pulled out the large box storing the Positron Cannon, opened it, and lifted the device—shaped like an oversized camera, with unknown principles and unknown effects—back onto the workbench.

After yesterday’s recruitment event, and considering the club would host more activities in the future, they had hidden the Positron Cannon when not in use.

“By the way, there’s another troublesome issue.”

Jiang Ran told Chi Xiaoguo about his conversation with Fang Ze last night.

“In the future, we really won’t have a good excuse to come here early every morning. Sneaking around like this is too suspicious. Once or twice is fine—but if it happens every day, the secret of the Positron Cannon will definitely be exposed. After all… Fang Ze is also a member of the film club. Sooner or later, he’ll come to this room and notice we’re using it every morning.”

Chi Xiaoguo thought for a few seconds.

[Then… how about we switch to activating it at night instead?]

She grinned.

“Didn’t you say before, senior? As long as the electrical load is low, we can use the Positron Cannon.”

“Our school turns off the lights at 11 p.m., and after 10:30, the activity building is basically empty. We can just wait until close to 11 and activate it then.”

“Would that work?”

Jiang Ran nodded.

At first, he had felt it would trouble Chi Xiaoguo too much, and also that keeping a girl out that late every day might be inappropriate.

But now, after becoming familiar… it didn’t seem inappropriate at all.

After all, his conscience was clear—what was there to worry about?

More than anything, he now belonged here. He was a proper student of the university, a legitimate member of the film club—not some outsider anymore.

Under those circumstances, even staying alone with Chi Xiaoguo until 11 p.m. was entirely normal.

“Of course it’s fine!”

Chi Xiaoguo looked delighted.

“I’ll probably be working here a lot anyway—we’re about to start planning club activities. So… this room is going to be my main battlefield for the next year!”

“I’ll basically be here every day, preparing materials, developing photos, and so on. So staying two extra hours at night and helping you activate the Positron Cannon is no big deal!”

Jiang Ran smiled slightly and accepted her kindness.

This way, everything would look normal from Fang Ze’s perspective.

A college student returning to the dorm late—or not at all—was perfectly normal. But waking up at five or six every morning? That would be absurd. Where would you find students that disciplined?

“Thank you.”

Jiang Ran spoke sincerely again.

“I really appreciate how you’ve been cooperating with me and trusting me unconditionally. No matter what I ask, you agree—and you never even ask what I’m doing… I’m truly grateful for that.”

“Hey, I’m not stupid!”

Chi Xiaoguo waved her hand dismissively.

“I already guessed what you’re doing a long time ago.”

Huh?

Now Jiang Ran was the one caught off guard.

“Y-you already know?”

“Of course!”

Chi Xiaoguo put her hands on her hips, full of confidence.

“What’s so hard about guessing? I’m pretty smart too, okay!”

Then—

She suddenly bent forward into a pose, pretending to push up imaginary glasses.

Then she straightened sharply, pointed at Jiang Ran, and shouted:

“The truth is always one!”

…Jiang Ran froze.

That was a reference to Detective Conan—she was mimicking the famous line.

Chi Xiaoguo really was a master of internet culture, pulling out even such old memes effortlessly.

Her eyes sharpened instantly, her gaze turning into a blade that pierced straight through Jiang Ran’s soul.

[Senior! You’ve been researching a time machine this whole time, haven’t you!]

The bustle outside the window seemed unable to reach inside.

It was as if time itself had frozen.

Jiang Ran felt an inexplicable sensation—like being caught red-handed doing something wrong.

He stood there in silence.

Silence.

Like a camera shutter freezing the moment Chi Xiaoguo pointed her finger in judgment.

Jiang Ran sighed.

He had lost.

Honestly, he had been mentally prepared for this.

After all, any reasonably intelligent person, given enough time, would eventually see through it.

As someone working alongside him every day, there was no way she wouldn’t figure it out.

“…Alright.”

Jiang Ran made up his mind.

“Since you’ve figured it out, then I won’t—HAHAHAHA don’t worry, senior, I absolutely won’t laugh at you!”

“Huh?”

Chi Xiaoguo’s sudden interruption left Jiang Ran confused.

“Well, I know it’s hard to talk about something like this, so I never asked.”

She puffed out her chest, imitating an adult.

“But honestly, I understand! Just like everyone dreams of having a Doraemon or a Pikachu, who wouldn’t want a time machine?”

“Wait a second…”

Jiang Ran suddenly realized something was very wrong.

She had completely misunderstood.

To her, he wasn’t secretly researching something real—he was just some delusional dreamer.

“It’s okay, senior, you don’t need to explain.”

Chi Xiaoguo waved generously, fully immersed in her own reasoning.

“I know it’s childish and unrealistic—but I really understand.”

“In fact, I admire your persistence! You’ve failed so many times without success, but you never give up, never stop trying!”

“That kind of perseverance really inspires me. I don’t look down on you at all.”

“I think every dream deserves support—no matter how ridiculous or naive. People need dreams! Without dreams, what’s the difference between them and salted fish!”

…Alright.

Jiang Ran straightened.

So that was it.

A long-standing mystery had been solved.

He had always wondered how Chi Xiaoguo could remain so calm, never asking questions, never showing curiosity.

He thought she was respecting his privacy.

But no.

She hadn’t been holding back at all.

She had simply misunderstood everything completely.

[In Chi Xiaoguo’s eyes, he was a childish yet lovable dreamer—a stubborn, unrealistic fantasist… to put it bluntly, a delusional amateur scientist.]

All this time, she had been patiently indulging him—like a kindergarten teacher humoring a child.

…Honestly, he couldn’t even blame her.

Anyone normal, seeing someone researching a time machine, would think the same thing.

If he hadn’t experienced time travel himself, he would have thought so too.

“…Alright.”

Jiang Ran accepted the misunderstanding.

In fact, this might be better.

It would save him a lot of explaining.

“Yeah… it’s hard to talk about. Saying it out loud is a bit embarrassing.”

He played along.

“So please continue keeping it a secret for me.”

“Hehe~”

Chi Xiaoguo suddenly smirked, her eyes turning sly.

“Hehe… Senior Jiang Ran, you wouldn’t want the secret of the Positron Cannon to get out, right?”

Jiang Ran took a step back.

…Wait.

Why did this suddenly feel so wrong?

In his mind, an absurd scenario unfolded—

“Chi! Xiao! Guo! This is the last time!”

“Hehehe! Hehehe!”

A hand suddenly waved in front of his face like a windshield wiper.

Jiang Ran snapped back to reality.

Chi Xiaoguo was jumping in front of him, waving.

“Senior! Senior! Why did you suddenly zone out?”

“D-did I say something too harsh just now?”

“I-I was just joking! I really don’t look down on your dream! Please don’t take it to heart!”

“Ah, no, no—”

Jiang Ran waved quickly.

“As long as you’re willing to keep my secret and help me with the experiments at night, I’m truly grateful.”

“So in return, if there’s anything you need help with in the film club, don’t hesitate. I’ll do everything I can.”

Help, trust, friendship—these things were mutual.

After everything they had gone through, their bond had indeed grown stronger.

“Alright, let’s get to the experiment. Today will be the last time we do it in the morning.”

“OK!”

The two moved into position with practiced coordination.

Chi Xiaoguo began calibrating the Positron Cannon’s direction, while Jiang Ran braced himself on the windowsill and vaulted out.

For today’s trip to the future, he had already devised a plan.

Every previous prison break attempt had failed at the same point—the guards and the police dogs. The automatic alarm system made it impossible to proceed.

So Jiang Ran thought—

If he couldn’t deal with the alarm system…

Could he bypass it entirely?

After thinking it through, he decided on a new approach—

A super speedrun.

That’s right.

Like an extreme parkour run against the clock, he would waste not a single second, say not a single unnecessary word, and charge straight to the execution ground at maximum speed.

A completely new strategy.

Previously, every visit to the future prison had been bogged down by delays—

Greetings at the start.

Pointless searching in the equipment room.

Farming time in the corridors.

All these little details dragged everything out.

“If I start at triple speed, cut out all unnecessary steps, and go for a full speedrun… maybe I can bypass the guards and the dogs.”

Jiang Ran tightened his grip on his phone, staring at the skyline painted by the rising sun.

Break to rebuild.

Today, he would give the world twenty years in the future a true speedrunner’s shock.

At that moment, Chi Xiaoguo began counting down.

“5! 4! 3! 2! 1! 0!”

The Positron Cannon activated with a blue glow. Invisible beams struck the transformer distribution box.

Jiang Ran seized the timing. As the phone rang—

He pressed the answer button.

“Let’s go!”