Prodigy’s Playground

Chapter 76 Verification

Buzz!

Buzz!

Buzz!

The familiar dizziness. The familiar world spinning out of control.

The very last shred of awareness was a police dog biting through his carotid artery, blood gushing out.

The gunshots that followed—no idea where they were fired.

But in any case… they had nothing to do with him anymore.

In the void where the five senses were gone, Jiang Ran replayed the coordination of the five-man prison-break team just now.

There was only one way to describe it.

“A gigantic mess.”Too horrible to look at.

Impossible to watch.

An objective evaluation: compared to the plan the Killer had laid out at the beginning, aside from the fact that the roster of people was the same, there was absolutely no similarity whatsoever. As expected, a ragtag group acting on impulse—this outcome had been entirely predictable.

Two seconds later.

All discomfort vanished.

Jiang Ran once again heard the sizzling electric current from the transformer distribution box.

Slowly, he opened his eyes—

“Senior!”

Chi Xiaoguo, as always, was shaking her half-gnawed meatball bun hairstyle, both arms propped on the Film Camera Club’s windowsill.

“Senior, did it work this time?”

Jiang Ran flashed her an OK sign, signaling her to wait in the activity room.

“I’ll be right over!”

After that, he hung up the phone call and ran toward the front of the building.

This trip to 2045—this “time travel”—had once again succeeded without a hitch.

It seemed many of his earlier guesses had been correct.

The Positron Cannon… really had developed a new function due to an accidental malfunction.

The broken focusing unit could no longer restrain the electron beam intensity, causing the Positron Cannon to lose its ability to send text messages to the past. But at the same time, perhaps because of this very failure, it had also completely lost its restraint over the electron beam, triggering an entirely new chain reaction—

[…The current Positron Cannon 2.0 (battle-damaged edition) has lost the ability to connect to the past, but has instead gained the ability to connect to the future!]

As for what principle lay behind this, that could be set aside for later research.

Right now, the most important thing—

Was to immediately find the School of Physics, and locate the 2025 version of Professor Zhang Yang, who was still young and not yet imprisoned.

Then.

Through him.

To verify the authenticity of the time travel to the future of 2045.

Bang!

Jiang Ran pushed open the rickety door of the Film Camera Club and looked eagerly at Chi Xiaoguo.

“You’ve got our school’s app on your phone, right? The one that lets you check all the major course schedules.”

“Yes, I do.”

Chi Xiaoguo froze for a moment.

“But I only have Donghai University’s. Not the one from your school… I’m not sure which one you mean exactly.”

Ah.

Jiang Ran was speechless.

Sigh—he’d gotten too excited and slipped up.

What did he mean by “our school”?

He was just a junior college student from Donghai Vocational College of Foreign Economic and Trade. “Our school”? With whom?

Come to think of it, the name of that junior college was ridiculously long and awkward. No wonder Chi Xiaoguo couldn’t remember it. Even Jiang Ran himself felt like it was padding the word count every time he said it.

“Yes, I mean Donghai University’s.”

Jiang Ran stepped closer.

“Can you help me check whether Professor Zhang Yang from the School of Physics has any classes this morning?”

Chi Xiaoguo unlocked her phone, opened the course-checking app, and leaned in.

She actually wasn’t very familiar with how to view other departments’ schedules. She was just about to study the interface—

When she realized Jiang Ran’s fingers were already tapping deftly across the screen!

Three taps, five swipes, a few precise clicks—

Professor Zhang Yang’s schedule was pulled up directly.

Chi Xiaoguo’s eyes went wide.

Completely stunned.

Was this app universal across all universities nationwide or something?

“First period is a major course in the School of Physics.”

Jiang Ran looked at the schedule and muttered softly.

“Second period is a lab class… the School of Physics is some distance from the lab building. That break won’t work.”

If he was going to look for Professor Zhang Yang, he needed to leave enough time.

“Third period… no class. Perfect. Then we’ll go find Professor Zhang after the third period ends.”

After the second-period lab class, Professor Zhang Yang had no follow-up classes. Given his personality—someone who enjoyed discussing questions with students—he definitely wouldn’t mind chatting a bit longer in the lab.

“Eh—”

Chi Xiaoguo dragged out the sound, stunned all over again.

“Senior, you’re really familiar with Donghai University! I don’t even know where the School of Physics building and the lab building are!”

“…”

Jiang Ran chuckled softly.

“How should I put it… Donghai University is kind of my dream school. It’s just a pity my college entrance exam score didn’t live up to expectations. I was still a bit short of the cutoff.”

Chi Xiaoguo blinked.

She ran a quick analysis simulation in her head.

That… did seem like quite a gap.

But she felt that scores didn’t explain everything.

In this world, no one wins everything because of a single test, and no one loses their entire life because of one exam.

Take Senior Jiang Ran in front of her, for example.

He hadn’t gotten into Donghai University. His college entrance exam score wasn’t even as high as hers.

But after spending these days together—

Chi Xiaoguo could clearly feel that whether it was intelligence, execution, decision-making, or logical thinking… he was far above her.

Many people were probably just not good at studying.

Or maybe they were severely lopsided in their strengths.

She respected Jiang Ran a lot, and admired him too. That was why she was willing to listen to everything he said, to do whatever he asked, and to fully cooperate.

“Speaking of which,” she added, “I only have class for the first period today. The second period is PE.”

“Th-then, Senior,” Chi Xiaoguo hurriedly continued, “my second-period class can end early. I’ll come here then and go find Professor Zhang with you, okay?”

Jiang Ran nodded.

“Of course. It’d be great if you could come with me.”

After all, he wasn’t a student of Donghai University. On this Worldline No. 1, he and Zhang Yang were complete strangers. Having a student from the university accompany him would make things much easier to explain—and smoother to talk through.

“Then you go to class first. I’ll rest in the activity room for a bit.”

Jiang Ran stretched lazily and said goodbye to Chi Xiaoguo.

“See you in a bit.”

Half an hour later, the bell signaling the end of the second period rang.

Jiang Ran and Chi Xiaoguo were already waiting at the lab building.

To make himself look more like a student, Jiang Ran had even brought a notebook, with a sharpened pencil clipped inside.

His plan was this:

Since on Worldline No. 1, Professor Zhang Yang didn’t know him, once they met, he had to do everything possible to leave as deep an impression as he could.

The deeper, the better.

Ideally, one so strong that Zhang Yang wouldn’t forget him even twenty years later.

Of course…

That was pretty hard to pull off.

Unless Jiang Ran decided to stop being human and charged into the classroom right now to stage a gunfight, or slapped handcuffs on Zhang Yang and made his arm bleed profusely. If he did that, forget twenty years—two hundred years later, even if Zhang Yang crawled out of his grave as a zombie, he’d still smack his forehead and say, “Wait, wasn’t that student Jiang Ran completely insane?”

For now, Jiang Ran still planned to stay on this Worldline No. 1 for a while, so he wasn’t about to do anything that extreme.

This wasn’t like the prison loop in 2045. Any dark history here couldn’t be erased. And with Chi Xiaoguo right beside him, he needed to keep at least a little dignity.

Making Professor Zhang Yang remember him for twenty years based on just one conversation lasting a few dozen minutes was indeed difficult.

But there was no better option.

All he could do was ask questions that would leave a strong impression on Zhang Yang, or… spend more time interacting with him over the next few days.

In short, the more contact, the deeper the impression, and the higher the chance that in the 2045 prison, Professor Zhang Yang would recognize him.

And as long as in the 2045 prison, Professor Zhang Yang’s memories could change because of actions taken now, in 2025—

That would be enough to prove—

[…The future experience of 2045 is real!]

[…At the same time, the spacetime of 2045 and the spacetime of 2025 exist on the same worldline, forming a continuous relationship of history and future!]

Once these two points were confirmed,

It would be proof once and for all, allowing many pieces of information to be verified.

For example…

Qin Feng, as the Magician, becoming the world’s number one criminal and humanity’s public enemy.

For example…

Professor Zhang Yang being imprisoned for delving too deeply into quantum tunneling theory.

For example…

A prison being built specifically for Qin Feng, with Night Shadow, Futou Qing, Bookworm, and Killer as fellow inmates.

And for example—

[…In the near future, a super genius will appear at Donghai University and develop a spacetime shuttle capable of time travel, capable of sending people back to the past.]

This was the point Jiang Ran cared about most.

It was the hope of saving Cheng Mengxue.

And also the last hope for changing many histories and returning to Worldline No. 0.

A few minutes later.

Students gradually left the lab, leaving only Professor Zhang Yang at the lectern tidying up his course materials.

At this moment, Zhang Yang looked young and energetic, tall and upright. He wore a white shirt, his hair neatly parted in a three-seven split, completely different from the man in prison in 2045.

Jiang Ran shot Chi Xiaoguo a look, and the two of them walked in together.

“Hello, Professor Zhang Yang.”

Jiang Ran greeted him politely.

“I have some questions I’d like to ask you. Do you have time?”

Zhang Yang stood up from his chair and looked the two of them up and down.

“Sure. You are… which class?”

“Professor! I’m from the School of Art!” Chi Xiaoguo raised her hand first.

Jiang Ran, meanwhile, deftly sidestepped the issue.

“We listened to your general-education lecture on Worldline Theory, and there were some things we didn’t quite understand, so we wanted to ask.”

“Oh, oh, the general-education course.”

Zhang Yang suddenly understood.

If they were general-education students, then someone from the School of Art made perfect sense.

General-education courses were elective classes open to students from all years and all majors across the university, usually taken to fill credit requirements. Any major could sign up. Each class session was held in a massive lecture hall with one or two hundred students.

To be honest, university general-education courses were like huge banquet lines. Aside from the class monitors and representatives, he had no impression of most students.

“Honestly, I’m really happy you came to see me.”

Professor Zhang Yang unscrewed his thermos and took a sip of tea.

“I always thought students in general-education courses were just there to coast for credits. Not many listen seriously… some even treat my class like science fiction.”

“But I didn’t expect there to be students who really listened and thought deeply. That’s great, truly great. Seeing you two come here like this is very gratifying to me as a teacher. Go on—what do you want to ask? I don’t have another class next period, so we can talk properly.”

Jiang Ran listened silently to these strangely familiar words… his emotions swirling.

This was probably the inevitability of history.

Or perhaps an anchor point amid spacetime chaos.

Back on Worldline No. 0, when he, Qin Feng, and Cheng Mengxue had come to ask Professor Zhang Yang questions, the professor had said these exact same words.

Now, on Worldline No. 1, everything was different—people gone, time shifted—yet facing students eager to learn and ask questions, Professor Zhang Yang was still just as kind and gentle.

It seemed that even if the temporal butterfly effect tore history into a complete mess, within the cracks between human nature and fate, many things would still remain unchanged.

“Professor Zhang, I want to ask about worldline transitions…”

Just like that.

Jiang Ran repeated the same questions Cheng Mengxue had asked on Worldline No. 0.

You could call it catering to his interests.

Professor Zhang Yang was a top student himself, and he liked students who loved learning—especially since he had already said that many students didn’t listen carefully to the general-education course he’d prepared so thoroughly.

So if Jiang Ran acted a bit more serious now, wouldn’t that leave a good impression?

Sure enough.

As the discussion went on, and as Jiang Ran answered questions one after another with precision, Professor Zhang Yang’s gaze toward him grew increasingly bright.

“Student, what’s your name?”

“My name is Jiang Ran.”

Jiang Ran smiled as he answered.

“Jiang as in Yangtze River, Ran as in ‘then.’”

“Good. Jiang Ran, you’re doing very well!”

Zhang Yang praised him with satisfaction.

“I’ll make a note when I go back and check the general-education roster. The course exam is next month—I’ll definitely give you a high score!”

“Thank you, Professor.”

Smooth.

Step one—making Professor Zhang Yang form an impression of him—complete.

Now, Professor Zhang Yang had remembered his name.

When he went back and checked the general-education roster, searching again and again, he would find—

Huh? Why isn’t there a student named Jiang Ran?

That would only deepen the impression further.

Heh. This feeling was kind of like the push-and-pull in a domineering CEO romance novel. Jiang Ran had no intention of that sort of thing, but as long as it deepened Professor Zhang Yang’s impression, a little deception was acceptable.

As one question after another was answered, Professor Zhang Yang’s gaze toward Jiang Ran grew even more expectant.

He was curious—what kind of spacetime- or worldline-related question would this student ask next?

“Professor Zhang, I have one last question.”

“Mm, go ahead.” Professor Zhang Yang lifted his thermos again.

Jiang Ran took a deep breath through his nose, slowly exhaled, and looked at the young Professor Zhang Yang—at the familiar traces overlapping with the man in prison.

[…Professor Zhang, do you think… a spacetime shuttle that can let people travel through time and return to the past could really be developed?]

Professor Zhang Yang froze mid-motion, thermos suspended in the air.

The air seemed to solidify.

Outside the window, the sound of leaves rustling against each other came through, sharp and clear.

Chi Xiaoguo tilted her head.

She glanced left at Professor Zhang Yang, then right at Jiang Ran, not understanding why the two of them had suddenly fallen silent at the same time—nor why their gazes were locked on each other without shifting.

“…”

Professor Zhang Yang shook his head and smiled.

He didn’t drink the water. Instead, he screwed the thermos shut again and placed it on the lectern.

Then.

He looked at Jiang Ran with evident interest.

“Actually, how should I put this… generally speaking, I wouldn’t talk about this, because it’s too science-fictional and doesn’t have much practical significance.”

“But I find you, as a student, very interesting.”

Zhang Yang picked up a stub of chalk from the lectern and held it in his hand.

“Today’s a rare opportunity. I’ll give you…”

He paused, then smiled.

“…something special to listen to.”