Prodigy’s Playground

Chapter 79 Target

“HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!”

At a night-market barbecue stall, Wang Hao was laughing so hard he kept slapping the tiny folding table, mouth wide open, tears streaming down his face.

“HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!”

Clutching his stomach, he pointed at Jiang Ran.

“Is this some kind of ‘Don’t Laugh Challenge’? Sorry, I lost hahaha!”

“Are you done laughing?”

Jiang Ran frowned.

Just now, he had told Wang Hao about his plan to attend Donghai University. The result? Wang Hao had sprayed a mouthful of beer and nearly flipped backward laughing.

“HAHAHAHA! Cough cough cough cough—”

He laughed too violently and choked, coughing hard.Then he pulled out a tissue.

Wiped his tears.

Only then did he manage to catch his breath.

“You know what? That’s probably the funniest joke I’ve heard all year.”

“Bro, I know with your original high school grades, getting into Donghai University wouldn’t have been hard.”

“But you skipped two exams and ended up at junior college. What path exactly do you think you have left to transfer to Donghai University?”

“What, you planning some kind of junior-college-to-bachelor upgrade straight into Donghai University? That’s not even a joke—that’s fantasy! The universities open to that pathway are second-tier at best. Top-tier universities don’t even accept those transfers!”

“Come on, come on—drink, drink. No idea why you suddenly came up with something this ridiculous.”

Jiang Ran lifted his glass and clinked it with Wang Hao’s.

Wang Hao drained his in one gulp.

Jiang Ran raised his own—

—and set it back down.

“Alright.”

He nodded.

“I admit it does sound a little ridiculous. But hear me out first…”

Morning.

Donghai University.

Film Camera Club activity room.

The sun rose in a blaze. Cicadas buzzed in restless waves. Willow branches outside the window sprouted tender green leaves that hung like curtains beyond the glass.

Chi Xiaoguo stood stunned, staring at Jiang Ran bathed in sunlight as he declared his bold ambition.

She murmured:

“S-Senior… If you could come study at Donghai University, I’d of course be very happy. Then you could join the Film Camera Club, and we could do activities together regularly.”

“But… how would you do it?”

For once, worry creased her face as her eyes turned in thought.

“If you mean upgrading from junior college to a bachelor’s program, that definitely won’t work. The universities available through that pathway are very limited, and a super key university like Donghai University definitely isn’t one of them.”

“If you mean transferring… Donghai City does have an inter-university transfer system. As long as you pass the exam, you can earn the chance to attend a better university. But… that system only applies to bachelor students. Junior college students can’t even take the exam.”

“I… I really can’t think of any way to get you enrolled here…”

Jiang Ran exhaled through his nose, dragged over a chair, and sat down without speaking.

It was true.

Between junior college and a bachelor’s program lay a gulf.

And between Donghai Overseas Economic and Trade Vocational College and Donghai University—a top-tier institution—lay a chasm even wider. An uncrossable abyss. No connecting bridge. No academic pathway.

To sum it up in one phrase—

[Impossible.]

This was impossibility in the absolute sense.

Unless the Dragon Country’s entire current education system were overturned, not even a deity could transfer Jiang Ran’s student status from junior college to bachelor’s.

And yet—

He had to be at Donghai University.

He had already analyzed it: Donghai University was the convergence point of every critical clue. Without question, it was the main battlefield for the plan to save Cheng Mengxue. Victory or defeat would be decided there.

At present, there were only two paths to bring Cheng Mengxue back to life:

Contact, by any means possible, the senior who built the Positron Cannon—or locate the relevant materials from the past—and repair it.

Wait for “the super genius prodigy” Lu Yu to enroll, establish a connection with him, and use his talent to build a spacetime shuttle capable of traveling back to the past.

Those were the only two solutions.

It wasn’t hard to see—

No matter which plan, action had to be carried out inside Donghai University. And time was of the essence.

He had already wasted a month on Worldline No. 1.

The longer he stayed here, the more real this worldline felt. The sensation was deeply unsettling. There were many things he didn’t dare dwell on.

The more people he met.

The more emotions were stirred.

The more bonds were formed.

The greater the danger that he would develop attachment to Worldline No. 1 itself.

That would be disastrous.

He had to be clear.

Worldline No. 0 was the world that belonged to him.

This—

This was like a dream. A journey. A passing visit.

Otherwise—

He would only create more regret. More remorse.

Analyzed rationally:

The Positron Cannon could not be repaired by him—not now. Not by Qin Feng. Not even by Old Qi. Their only hope was to locate the original senior who built it and see whether anything could be salvaged.

That was not something that could be solved quickly.

The spacetime shuttle, though it sounded equally distant, might in fact be the more direct route—if Lu Yu truly was its inventor.

Unlike the unknown, untraceable Film Camera Club seniors, Lu Yu’s life trajectory was clear.

In three months, he would enroll at Donghai University as a freshman.

So barring any unforeseen event, on September 1, 2025, Jiang Ran would certainly see Lu Yu’s suitcase at the freshman welcome station.

Compared to the Positron Cannon, Lu Yu and the spacetime shuttle were far clearer and more reliable.

And so—

After circling through every line of thought—

He arrived back at the starting point.

How exactly could he stage a “junior-college-upgrade PLUS PRO MAX,” leaping straight from a junior college cafeteria into the halls of Donghai University?

“Senior.”

Chi Xiaoguo hesitated, then closed the file in her hands and stood up from the sofa.

“I actually think the simplest method might be to withdraw and repeat senior year… and take the college entrance exam again.”

—

Wang Hao rested his head in one hand and chewed a skewer of lamb.

He spoke the exact same words.

“There’s no other way. Look—high school teachers always say the college entrance exam is the fairest, simplest way to change your life. Back then it didn’t feel real. But thinking about your situation now… they were right.”

“If you want to fly from this lousy junior college straight into Donghai University, that’s pure madness. Not a shred of possibility.”

“But if you withdraw and go back to repeat, then take the exam again—if you can still perform like you did in high school, getting admitted to Donghai University shouldn’t be a problem.”

“It’s just… you’re already in your second year. You’ve studied here two years and you’re about to start internships. Is it really necessary to start over?”

Jiang Ran waved a hand.

“Repeating is out of the question.”

Today was already May 30.

The college entrance exam was only seven or eight days away. Registration had long since closed. If he wanted to take it again, he would have to wait until next year.

First, he couldn’t afford to wait.

Second, Lu Yu would take the exam this year and enroll in September. If Jiang Ran waited and became Lu Yu’s junior the following year, everything would already be cold ashes.

“Ah…”

Jiang Ran took a deep breath, feeling the unevenness of the world.

“You’re impossible.”

Wang Hao snorted and rolled his eyes.

“All day long it’s ‘this won’t work, that won’t work.’ I don’t even know what you actually want.”

“So what if our school’s a bit worse? So what if our degree’s lower? Are we going to starve to death in the future? Can’t find a job?”

“To be honest, I’ve seen people work themselves to death. Never seen someone starve from not working.”

“And besides, you’ve got Nan Xiuxiu with you. That girl stuck by you two whole years, through the hardest time of your life.”

“If I were you, just meeting Nan Xiuxiu at this crappy junior college would already be the best luck of my life. Forget Donghai University—offer me Tsinghua, Peking, Harvard, Cambridge, I wouldn’t trade!”

Jiang Ran raised his glass and clinked it with Wang Hao’s.

He didn’t answer.

He drained it in one gulp.

People were different.

If he did not possess the ability to alter history, to alter time—

Perhaps he would have given up. Cried a few more times before Cheng Mengxue’s gravestone. Accepted reality helplessly. Lived properly in Worldline No. 1.

But he had the ability.

With such power—

How could he stand by and let Cheng Mengxue die?

He couldn’t.

These days, he had come to see Nan Xiuxiu differently. She truly was a good girl. Eccentric. Full of personality.

[But he could not forget why—what for—he had been exhausting himself like this.]

His original intention—

Was to bring Cheng Mengxue back to life.

That would never change.

“Drink.”

He picked up the beer bottle and refilled both glasses.

“I’ll think of something.”

—

The next day.

Saturday.

Jiang Ran slept well for the first time in a long while and arrived at Donghai University at ten in the morning.

Chi Xiaoguo was already there, seated on the sofa flipping through old files. No idea how early she had arrived.

They did not conduct Positron Cannon experiments at dawn today.

First, it had been a while since Lin Shuo and Chi Xiaoguo had taken a proper weekend. Let them rest.

Second, there were more urgent matters now. The events of 2045 could wait a little. Fewer bullets to the head for now.

“Senior, you’re here.”

Chi Xiaoguo’s smile was as bright as the sunlight outside the window.

She picked up her notebook and began reporting on her investigation since yesterday.

“Senior, the school’s electronic records for club members only start from 2011. You discussed that before with Senior Yan Rui.”

Jiang Ran nodded.

Before 2011, Donghai University’s club management had been mostly paper-based. The digital system simply didn’t contain older records.

“After 2011, the Film Camera Club had already declined. Membership was small every year. I contacted all the club presidents from those years… but none of them had ever heard of the Positron Cannon. They never even encountered those old items.”

She continued:

“I went further back into the paper archives. I managed to find some members from 2008 to 2010. Yesterday I contacted them one by one.”

Jiang Ran raised an eyebrow.

“The files had their phone numbers?”

“Of course not!”

Chi Xiaoguo grinned.

“But I have a close friend who works in the administrative building with the alumni office, funded by a scholarship. I asked her to help look up some alumni contact information. One thing led to another, and I got in touch.”

She paused.

“Unfortunately, the Film Camera Club seniors from 2008 to 2010 also never heard of the Positron Cannon.”

“They said digital cameras were rising fast at the time. The Film Camera Club couldn’t recruit members. The activity room kept getting relocated—smaller and smaller.”

“So old items that could be moved were moved. The rest were thrown out. Some were left in the original storage room and forgotten. It was chaotic.”

Jiang Ran listened silently.

It couldn’t be helped.

Convenient digital cameras had been a dimensional strike against film photography—no contest.

Donghai University’s club management was like that. The more popular the club, the more resources it received.

Take the Film Club upstairs where Xu Yan was—multiple large activity rooms, even a dedicated screening room. Generous annual funding.

Meanwhile, the tiny Film Camera Club was lucky to retain a cramped little room at all. If it hadn’t been for Xu Yan’s influence, it might already have been dissolved.

“So that means…”

Jiang Ran pursed his lips.

“There’s still no clue about the origin or inventor of the Positron Cannon.”

“Not exactly no clue!”

Chi Xiaoguo stood up with a smile, opened a photography album, and handed it to him.

“Senior! Look at this photo!”