Prodigy’s Playground

Chapter 165 Divine Punishment

[September 27, 2025, weather: clear.]

[I’m becoming less and less like myself, less and less able to control myself.

This situation is only getting worse.

At first, I could only barely fail to control my thoughts, but now—

I can’t even control my actions anymore.

The first time this happened was at the teahouse in Hangzhou, when I was having afternoon tea with Jiang Ran and Wang Hao.

At the time, Jiang Ran asked whether I remembered the glass bottle from the time capsule we buried before, whether I remembered what was written in that letter.

Of course I remembered.

Even if I couldn’t recall every single word, I could still remember fragments of what was written there.

At the time, I wanted to admit it.Because, very obviously—this was Jiang Ran testing my identity.

However.

In the end, unexpectedly, I denied it.

That was the first time my thoughts wavered, and it all happened for no reason at all.

I got shy, the kind of extreme shyness that made my scalp go numb, to the point where I simply couldn’t say it out loud.

So I denied it, saying I didn’t remember what the letter said.

I can’t understand why it happened.

I didn’t even write that letter. No matter how cheesy the words on it were, what did that have to do with me?

That night, Jiang Ran walked me back to the hotel and asked the same question again.

I knew very clearly that if I wanted to clear away his suspicions, this was the best chance.

As long as I said the words from the letter, I could have completely gained his trust.

And yet—

Once again, I couldn’t control myself.

That overwhelming shyness and embarrassment made me deny it again. After the room door closed, my mind turned hazy, almost like I had a fever, and I muttered thoughts that weren’t mine.

But if they weren’t my thoughts, then whose were they?

I immediately contacted Doctor Garner, and his advice remained the same as before: keep writing in my diary.

He said I had already entered a life environment that did not belong to me at all, and my sense of self would gradually weaken. Like an actor too deeply immersed in a role, it would become easy to slowly lose myself and become trapped in the character I was playing.

I’ve kept writing my diary.

Only the me inside this diary can truly be me, can truly help me find myself, can truly let me understand who I am.

I’m not worried about what I’ll eventually become. I’m only worried that I won’t be able to complete Father’s mission, that I won’t be able to make up for my regret—

Today, I slapped Jiang Ran.

I truly don’t understand why I did that. I can’t control my thoughts—does that mean I can’t even control my actions either?

Please, don’t let me lose myself.

I have to complete the mission.

I must obey Father’s orders and punish Jiang Ran, this sinner who has disrupted history and disturbed spacetime.

I’ve tried my best to uncover his secret. But every step has been painfully difficult, impossible to break through.

Father must be very disappointed in me, right?

I must understand why I came here, for what purpose I came.

My mission, my persistence, my sacrifice, my regret—

When will that day finally come?

I hope it comes soon.

I will carry justice and light, and bestow upon Jiang Ran—]

[Divine punishment.]

Splash, splash, splash.

Jiang Ran was showering in the hotel bathroom.

After rescuing the child who had fallen into the river, their group had gone to the nearest hotel and booked two hourly rooms. Jiang Ran and Cheng Mengxue each went to wash up separately.

Fang Ze had gone to a clinic to get his wound bandaged, while Chi Xiaoguo went to a nearby shop to casually buy a few sets of clothes.

Once everything was done, Jiang Ran and Cheng Mengxue changed into dry new clothes, called a business rideshare, and returned to Donghai University.

The whole ride back, the four of them were silent.

The driver sat in the front.

The passenger seat was empty.

There were two independent seats in the second row, with Fang Ze and Chi Xiaoguo each taking one.

Jiang Ran and Cheng Mengxue sat in the back row, both turned toward the windows, staring outside in mutual silence.

No one knew what to say.

The only thing in the air was awkwardness. Awkwardness. Utter, extreme awkwardness.

“I’m sorry.”

In the end, Cheng Mengxue was the one who spoke first.

She lowered her head, rubbing one thumb against the other. “I’m sorry, I… I shouldn’t have slapped you like that, I—”

“Oh, it’s fine.”

Jiang Ran waved a hand and touched his left cheek.

It didn’t hurt anymore.

Well, okay, it still hurt a little.

It was even a little swollen.

That slap had really come down with terrifying force. Jiang Ran had to admit that in that instant, stars had burst in his vision and the whole world had spun.

It had nearly made him think it was another Worldline Transition.

It was obvious Cheng Mengxue hadn’t held back in the slightest. It was a super critical hit delivered in a state of absolute fury.

At that moment, Jiang Ran finally understood why, on Worldline 0, when Qin Feng had described Cheng Mengxue’s crazed state to him, he had used the term “rabid dog.”

Originally, Jiang Ran had thought Qin Feng’s assessment was way too extreme.

But now it seemed Qin Feng had actually been conservative.

That had happened the second time they used the time-traveling text, when they tried to save Xu Yan.

Another river rescue.

Another trigger for Cheng Mengxue’s childhood trauma from when Jiang Ran had nearly drowned at age six.

Another scene of wild screaming that no one could hold back.

The difference was that, last time, Qin Feng and Xu Yan had pinned Cheng Mengxue down and stopped her from jumping into the river after him.

But this time, Fang Ze and Chi Xiaoguo were nowhere near Qin Feng and Xu Yan in either build or strength, so they failed to restrain Cheng Mengxue in her frenzied state. In the end, she broke free and jumped into the river.

And because of that, he got slapped.

Right!

He’d almost forgotten something important.

On Worldline 0, Cheng Mengxue’s bite had landed on Xu Yan’s arm.

But on the current Worldline 1, that bite had landed on Fang Ze’s arm instead.

“You really don’t need to apologize to me. I’m not hurt.”

Jiang Ran let out a light laugh. “That apology should go to Fang Ze instead.”

“Ah, I’m fine! I’m totally fine! It stopped hurting ages ago!”

Fang Ze blurted out the denial from the front seat.

Even though he had never experienced Dragon Country–style youth, he still had basic situational awareness.

At a moment like this, absolutely do not get involved in the battlefield!

The two people in the back had been hitting and yelling at each other, crying one moment and laughing the next. Obviously this was not some normal relationship! Obviously there was hidden drama!

In short, this was exactly the kind of battle zone he needed to avoid at all costs. Jiang Ran could forget about dragging him in as cannon fodder.

Fang Ze suddenly recalled a line from a Dragon Country TV drama he had once watched:

“You only lost a leg, but she lost love!”

Right now.

Probably.

It was kind of like that.

Dragon Country–style youthful romance really was complicated, bizarre, and unhinged. The TV dramas truly did not lie.

Besides, it wasn’t like he had actually lost an arm. He had only been bitten once, got some iodine put on it, and a bandage wrapped around it.

He’d just swallow this silent loss.

After arriving at Donghai University—

Chi Xiaoguo and Fang Ze picked up the four cameras, declared that the two of them would return the equipment to the Film Camera Club, and fled at light speed.

Jiang Ran and Cheng Mengxue walked side by side down the narrow campus path, step by step toward the dorm building.

Moonlight buried a layer of unspoken thoughts into the footprints they left behind, escorting them slowly deeper into the campus along the slope blanketed in ginkgo leaves.

“Your face looks kind of swollen.”

Cheng Mengxue raised her head and looked at Jiang Ran’s cheek, then smiled for some reason. “Don’t go getting disfigured.”

“And whose fault is that?”

Jiang Ran grumbled. “It’s not like you don’t know I can swim.”

“You never practice properly!”

Cheng Mengxue started scolding him again for how, every time he attended swimming class as a kid, he never took it seriously and basically just soaked in the pool like a dead fish.

“Yeah, I’ll admit I’m not as good as you.”

Jiang Ran recalled her swimming form from that afternoon. “You really are amazing at swimming. You were fast like a torpedo.”

“You’re the torpedo!”

She kicked at him, and Jiang Ran dodged.

“Hey.”

For some reason, Cheng Mengxue sighed and stopped walking, shifting behind Jiang Ran. “That little blue dot on the back of your neck, where the pencil stabbed you… is it still obvious?”

“No idea.”

Jiang Ran shook his head. “I can’t exactly see it.”

“Crouch down.” Like she was ordering around a puppy, Cheng Mengxue gestured downward.

“What for?” Jiang Ran turned around.

“Come on, crouch down! Let me look!”

Helpless, Jiang Ran could only crouch.

In the gentle night breeze, Cheng Mengxue stepped closer and reached out with her right hand, touching the back of his neck, brushing aside his collar and the ends of his hair.

The wound where the pencil tip had pierced deeply more than ten years ago still retained the faintest scar.

And right at the center of that scar, a tiny blue dot the size of a sesame seed was still embedded beneath the skin, clearly visible in the bright moonlight.

It was the near-fatal mark from when he had almost died.

And also the medal of his fearless, self-sacrificing heroism in youth.

Cheng Mengxue slowly traced it with the pad of her finger and closed her eyes.

“You really are a hero.”

She said softly, “You were like that before, and you’re still like that now. The moment anyone’s in danger, you throw yourself in without hesitation.”

“It’s not that big a deal.”

Jiang Ran gave a light laugh. “If I’ve got the ability, I can’t exactly just stand by and watch someone die.”

“You…”

Cheng Mengxue lifted her finger from the scar and slowly opened her eyes. “It would be nice if you could stay like this forever.”

On the other side of Donghai City, in a luxurious conference room.

The old man in Tang robes rubbed the coin between his fingertips and stayed silent for a long time.

“As expected, nothing ever happens without that troublemaker Aixi stirring the pot. She’s started moving again.”

“It’s just—I don’t know exactly what she plans to do. But ever since she had Zhou Xiong swagger around with the Princess Coin, she seems to have been plotting something.”

“I’d say there’s an eighty percent chance her ill intentions concern us. In Genius Playground today, no one dared disobey me, but everyone also wants to break this deadlock.”

“Without question, the best way to break it is to get rid of me—get rid of my veto power.”

Across the table, the middle-aged man was thinking as well.

“And it’s not just the Witch. The Puppet must also have guessed that you were the one who had Yan Chonghan eliminated. They both belong to the Dartmouth Academy faction.”

“Even though our plan wasn’t aimed at the Puppet, from his perspective, what we did is no different from tearing down the bridge after crossing it.”

The old man in Tang robes pressed the King Coin with his middle finger and flicked it with his thumb.

It spun across the tabletop with a low rattling sound.

“How is the girl’s side progressing?” he asked, shaking his head.

The middle-aged man shook his head. “No progress. It feels like Jiang Ran is deliberately dragging out the tempo too, starting some make-believe campus life game.”

“No matter what, Old Wu, we’re passive on every front now. I think it’s about time this deadlock ends.”

His gaze remained fixed on the King Coin spinning and drifting across the table.

“Honestly, the intelligence we’ve gathered on Jiang Ran’s side is already more or less enough.”

“That strange device stored in the Film Camera Club—ever since the girl touched it, Jiang Ran has never used it again. I think there’s a high probability that it’s the time machine we’ve been looking for.”

“On the night Old Tian shot Yan Chonghan, Jiang Ran just so happened to appear at the scene. Even though he ultimately failed to stop our divine punishment, the fact that he arrived there at exactly the right time—doesn’t that already explain everything?”

“[Jiang Ran must have learned about it in advance through the time machine. Otherwise, I truly can’t think of any reason that explains such a coincidence.]”

“At this point, no matter who the hidden hand behind Jiang Ran really is, I don’t think we can keep dragging this out.”

“So far, he still hasn’t discovered the truth about the Key, nor does he suspect the girl is connected to us.”

“If we keep delaying, and all our plans are truly exposed—then the consequences for us will be impossible to bear.”

The old man in Tang robes watched the spinning coin gradually lose momentum and let out a long breath.

“I think so too. Although we failed to achieve our original goal and couldn’t uncover the identity and intent of the force behind Jiang Ran—if we can really seize the time machine, that would still be an unexpected gain.”

“Our original intention was to use the Key to get close to Jiang Ran, clarify everything, and then launch another [Hide-and-Seek Game] to obtain the next valuable coin.”

“But as things stand, that’s still a distant dream. And with more and more factions entering the board, there’s a good chance this piece of meat will fall into someone else’s hands.”

“In that case, it’s better to do what we did when we destroyed the Princess Coin—destroy every opportunity. We give up our chance, and at the same time deny everyone else theirs.”

“Of course that outcome is regrettable. But preserving the status quo is still better than letting someone else possess a scepter equal to mine. At least then Genius Playground will remain my one-man domain. This farce will remain just a farce, incapable of stirring any real waves.”

The middle-aged man straightened his coat and stood.

“If that’s the case, then let’s start pulling in the net. As for the girl’s side—she’s probably already been waiting impatiently.”

At last.

The spinning King Coin lost all force and fell flat on the table.

Reverse side up.

The giant eye encircled by a Ferris wheel reflected the cold light of the fluorescent lamp, staring down at this world with icy judgment.

“Mm.”

The old man in Tang robes looked at the emblem on the back of the coin and gave a quiet response.

“This little make-believe game ends here.”

He pushed himself up from the redwood chair’s armrests and slowly walked to the huge floor-to-ceiling window, looking toward the three iconic skyscrapers spearing into the sky over Lujiazui.

“Call Fang Ze back from America.”

The middle-aged man froze. “Use him? The Hangzhou case is still under police investigation.”

“It doesn’t matter.”

The old man stood with his hands behind his back.

“Lilith already cleaned everything up. The police have no leads on Fang Ze, and no reason whatsoever to suspect him.”

“[In this world, no one knows Fang Ze is our killer. No one knows he has any connection to the Mutual Aid Society of Regrets.]”

“Having him carry out this task is the safest and most discreet option for us. In the current tangled situation, using Fang Ze to end this matter puts me more at ease than anyone else.”

“All right.”

The middle-aged man accepted the order. “Then I’ll contact him. What day should the divine punishment be set for?”

“Let the Key decide.”

The old man in Tang robes looked out at the neon-lit nightscape and smiled faintly.

“We’ve raised this soldier for a thousand days; it’s time for her to prove her worth.”

“If luck is on our side, we may even be able to squeeze the very last bit of value out of Jiang Ran. And then let Fang Ze make his move—”

“To deliver Jiang Ran his final divine punishment!”