Prodigy’s Playground

Chapter 96 The Bet

Zhang Yang felt lightheaded, his head buzzing, a rush of anger pressing against his chest, his whole body strangely weightless.

Jiang Ran, on the other hand, faced Zhang Yang’s sarcastic, barbed remarks with firm conviction.

Truth be told, he had considered it just now.

If Zhang Yang truly refused this topic no matter what, then fine—he could spend the summer preparing properly, studying the relevant knowledge, and choose a normal topic again once the semester began.

But.

Just now, in a fit of frustration, Zhang Yang had directly staked everything on the bet of “no longer researching Quantum Tunneling.” That was what forced Jiang Ran to take this seriously. No longer researching Quantum Tunneling…

That was Zhang Yang’s life-saving straw in the future.

In the prison of 2045, Zhang Yang had worn a face full of regret, saying he never should have researched it. Only there was no regret pill in this world—no way to go back and slap himself twice.

But Jiang Ran could.

Right now, in 2025, was the perfect moment to deliver those “two slaps,” to wake Professor Zhang Yang up, pull him back from the wrong path, and steer him away from the prison disaster brought on by Quantum Tunneling. So…Sorry, Professor Zhang.

Jiang Ran apologized silently in his heart.

He knew full well that doing this would make the other man feel hurt, angry, disrespected, stripped of his dignity as a teacher…

But compared to ten years in prison, those things weighed less than a feather.

Over on Zhang Yang’s side.

After several deep breaths, he gradually calmed down.

Thinking back on his earlier sarcasm, he felt a trace of regret. He had spoken too harshly. He might have hurt Jiang Ran.

Sigh.

It was his first time serving as a graduate advisor, the first time encountering a student who put this much pressure on him. He had rushed things and lost composure. In a teacher’s eyes—

The most regrettable thing was watching a student who clearly had talent, a promising seedling, wander astray simply because they had not received proper guidance.

And before him stood Jiang Ran—the genius highly praised by Professor Gao Yan.

Clearly one of those cases.

He was indeed intelligent, but arrogant with his talent, proud and headstrong. That was a grave taboo in scientific research.

Since fate had made them teacher and student—

He could not behave like a petulant child.

He should guide him properly. Teach patiently. After all, like spring rain nurturing the earth—that was the essence of education.

“Come, come, Jiang Ran, let’s sit down first.”

He beckoned him over, motioning for him to sit and talk slowly.

Turning around, he took two disposable cups from the tea cabinet, poured water into them, placed one in front of Jiang Ran and one before himself, then sat down again.

“I apologize for what I said earlier. I hope you won’t take it to heart. I respect your ideas, and I understand your aspirations.”

“Let’s put aside prejudice for now and not argue about the authenticity or feasibility of your project… Since you trust Academician Gao Yan so deeply, why not hear his opinion? Or rather… let’s hand the authority of this decision over to him.”

“After all, in Dragon Country’s academic world, Professor Gao Yan represents the highest level. If he says the project is feasible and worth researching, then it truly is. And if he says it isn’t… then perhaps it truly isn’t worth wasting energy on. You agree with that, don’t you?”

Jiang Ran nodded.

Of course he agreed.

If it weren’t for the fact that he genuinely lacked the academic foundation—and if it weren’t because he wanted to save Zhang Yang from his future imprisonment—he would never treat Professor Zhang this way.

To be honest, the respect he held for Professor Zhang…

Actually surpassed what he felt for Academician Gao Yan.

But right now.

This opportunity to save Zhang Yang’s future life—he truly could not let it slip away.

“Good.”

Professor Zhang smiled faintly.

As expected, Jiang Ran wasn’t entirely disobedient. He just needed proper guidance.

After all, he was a genius.

Sometimes you had to coax a genius.

Sincerity was the ultimate technique.

“I’ll be honest with you too. I have my own selfish motives.”

Zhang Yang spoke earnestly.

“I’m part of this educational system. Naturally, I’m still a worldly person. I can’t escape desires for fame and recognition.”

“Especially as the last disciple of the highly respected Professor Gao Yan… up to now, I haven’t produced any results I can truly be proud of. I’m far behind my senior brothers and sisters.”

“So I’m sorry, Jiang Ran. I admit I lost composure today. I always want to prove myself in academia, to achieve something truly great…”

“Part of it is indeed my desire for fame. I won’t deny that. Every scholar wants a breakthrough.”

“But more than that… [I don’t want to disgrace Professor Gao. I don’t want others to laugh behind his back and say he had poor judgment—accepting a final disciple with no talent, no ability, mediocre and useless—ruining his reputation in his later years.]”

His voice was light.

And heavy.

He stared blankly at the steam rising from the cup of water, pressed his lips together.

“Professor Gao never demanded much from me. He always took care of me, indulged me in many things.”

“Even when I decided to return to Donghai University to teach, he didn’t want me to go. He said leaving the Dragon Country Academy of Sciences research circle for a university campus would make it much harder to produce real results.”

“But in the end, he still let me come back. What I never told him was the real reason… I felt that my fellow disciples were all too outstanding, too intelligent, too brilliant. Being there… the pressure was overwhelming.”

He removed his glasses, set them on the table, closed his eyes, and folded his fingers over his abdomen.

“To put it bluntly, I ran away. I couldn’t bear my own mediocrity. I couldn’t bear my own limitations… So I became a deserter.”

“I’ve always thought that the cruelest thing in this world is for those who have just a little bit of talent—but not enough—[to look up and see the ceiling, to see the geniuses dancing above, yet no matter how hard they try, they can never reach it. All they can do is stand below and watch.]”

He paused.

Then opened his eyes.

“[And at the Dragon Country Academy of Sciences, such one-in-a-million geniuses are everywhere.]”

Zhang Yang’s words struck Jiang Ran deeply.

Before high school, he and Cheng Mengxue had both believed they were geniuses—top of every class, praised by parents and teachers as future candidates for the elite universities.

But in high school, when they met Qin Feng, he finally understood what a true genius was.

Things he and Cheng Mengxue worked tirelessly for—Qin Feng could accomplish with a wave of his hand.

Olympiad competitions they barely dared to dream about—Qin Feng could win gold as if joking.

Even in what Jiang Ran had always prided himself on—learning ability—Qin Feng had beaten him by more than sixty points in the college entrance exam.

That was a real genius.

Compared to that, he and Cheng Mengxue… were merely those “ordinary people with a bit of talent,” as Professor Zhang had described.

And in 2045, he had learned something even more crushing.

There existed someone even more Qin Feng than Qin Feng.

Someone more genius than genius itself.

Lu Yu.

There was always someone beyond you.

Often, the limits of ordinary people were simply heartbreaking.

Just as Professor Zhang had said.

Sometimes it would be better if they never saw the ceiling.

If you never see it, you never yearn for it. Being a frog at the bottom of a well isn’t so bad.

But when you have just enough talent to glimpse it—just enough to peek above and see the geniuses dancing—yet can never reach it…

Then that glance becomes a lifetime of mediocrity.

Genius.

Suddenly, Jiang Ran remembered the setting collection he had written in middle school—Prodigy’s Playground.

Why had he written that story back then?

Perhaps because the middle-school Jiang Ran, who had swept every first-place ranking, had naïvely believed he was a true genius.

But even if you were a one-in-a-million genius—so what?

In a higher world.

In the ultimate game—

[Genius is merely the admission ticket.]

“So my selfish motive,” Zhang Yang continued, adjusting his glasses, “is that I want you to research Quantum Tunneling with me.”

“When Professor Gao called to say that an ultra-genius whose identity couldn’t be disclosed would be joining as our senior disciple, I was ecstatic. I was excited for a long time.”

“From the way Professor Gao spoke of you, it was obvious your talent far surpasses mine. So… I believed my chance to prove myself had come. With your assistance, perhaps I truly could achieve a cross-era breakthrough. Not disappoint Professor Gao. Bring honor to our lineage.”

“That is why I hope you’ll join my project and research Quantum Tunneling with me. I firmly believe this direction is correct. It will overturn macroscopic physics, perhaps even touch the truth of the universe, change humanity’s understanding entirely!”

He looked up at Jiang Ran, relief in his eyes.

“That’s everything I wanted to say. My most sincere confession. Nothing held back.”

Meeting Zhang Yang’s gaze, Jiang Ran felt as though he were looking across spacetime into the prison cell of 2045, at Zhang Yang—Bookworm.

At this very moment.

He must be expecting something from him, right?

Probably hoping he would calm down, join the project, and research Quantum Tunneling together.

Honestly.

Jiang Ran had been moved.

But…

He forced himself to hold firm.

He absolutely could not falter!

If he agreed now, all his previous effort would be wasted!

Besides—

If Professor Zhang wanted to prove himself and produce results worthy of Academician Gao Yan, a spacetime shuttle wasn’t impossible.

Jiang Ran himself certainly couldn’t build it.

But from the Killer’s behavior and words, it wasn’t hard to infer that someone at Donghai University had built one—and most likely the super genius Lu Yu.

He already knew that information in advance.

And next semester, he could continue “transporting” knowledge from the future.

Once he pulled Lu Yu into the team, building a spacetime shuttle might not be so difficult after all.

In any case.

He could not be swayed by Professor Zhang’s sincerity.

He had to hold the line.

He had to make him give up Quantum Tunneling.

“I also owe you an apology, Professor Zhang. My attitude earlier wasn’t good.”

Jiang Ran bowed his head slightly.

Sometimes you only truly know someone after clashing with them.

He could clearly feel that after that heartfelt argument, the distance between them had actually shortened.

Sincerity for sincerity.

Their intentions were both good—they had just misaligned in communication.

“But I wasn’t acting on impulse. I genuinely want to research a spacetime shuttle.”

His gaze was steady.

“Professor Zhang, I want to achieve something under your guidance, to bring you honor, and also bring honor to Academician Gao. Researching a spacetime shuttle truly requires your help.”

“So… since our goals are aligned, let’s leave the decision to Academician Gao.”

“If he supports my spacetime shuttle research, I hope you will truly give up Quantum Tunneling. We’ll work together and create a miracle!”

Zhang Yang let out a light laugh.

In the end, he sighed helplessly and shook his head with a smile.

“Fine. I agree. But I’m adding one condition. A wager must be equal.”

“If Professor Gao does not agree to your spacetime shuttle project, you will obediently join my project and research Quantum Tunneling with me. Do you accept?”

Jiang Ran smiled.

“No problem!”

Thus, the wager was sealed.

Inside, Jiang Ran was secretly overjoyed.

He had 100% certainty that Academician Gao Yan would unconditionally support him.

Because Gao Yan was one of the very few people in the world who knew he had proven Goldbach’s Conjecture.

Facing such a peerless genius—who would refuse any research proposal he made?

No matter how outrageous.

If Jiang Ran declared the universe was an egg and wanted to prove it, Academician Gao would probably applaud and support him blindly.

After all, he had solved a conjecture that had baffled humanity for three centuries. What was left to doubt?

Just…

This information—

Zhang Yang did not know.

So.

This wager.

[He was certain to win!]

On the other side, Zhang Yang’s smile also deepened.

Jiang Ran didn’t know Academician Gao well enough.

Yes, he was capable—but Gao Yan was extremely conservative in academic research. One million percent impossible to approve such an absurd topic.

Zhang Yang had studied under him for ten years at the Dragon Country Academy of Sciences. He understood Gao Yan far better than Jiang Ran ever could.

Forget a spacetime shuttle. Even far more grounded research projects had been rejected outright as a waste of resources.

That information—

Jiang Ran did not know.

So.

This wager.

[He was certain to win!]

They looked at each other and burst into laughter.

“Ha…”

“Hahaha…”

“…”

“Hahahahaha!”

“Heh heh heh heh heh!”

“Hahahahahahahahaha!!”

The two stared at each other’s mysteriously confident faces. Their laughter grew louder and louder, until the entire office was filled with bright sound, sweeping away the earlier gloom.

“Let’s be clear this time!”

Zhang Yang squinted with laughter, pointing at Jiang Ran.

“No backing out!”

“Of course!”

Jiang Ran grinned confidently and high-fived him.

“No regrets!”

In both their minds, the same thought flashed:

[It’s settled!]

At the same time:

[The spacetime shuttle is inevitable!]

[Quantum Tunneling is inevitable!]

Smack.

Zhang Yang slapped his phone onto the table.

He opened his contacts and selected Professor Gao Yan’s number.

“Hmph.”

He gave Jiang Ran one last smug look—

And pressed dial.