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At precisely 00:42, a blinding white light enveloped everything, consuming history as time itself swallows the past.

Lin Xian awoke to the musty scent of old furniture. Disoriented, he scanned the unfamiliar room, then sat up and drew back the curtains to reveal a nearly full moon.

Amid stacks of waterlogged books, not a single history book was to be found. This was bizarre. Were history books deliberately withheld from circulation? Was history being manipulated to prevent people from learning about the past? What could be the purpose?

Rubbing his head in confusion, Lin Xian pondered, “History has already occurred. Its main roles are to educate, warn, and foster understanding. It’s not considered ‘useful’ knowledge. Unlike engineering, physics, and other sciences, history has no productive or destructive power; it’s static and unalterable.”

Then he remembered something Zhao Ying Jun had mentioned, “History doesn’t change.”

A chill breeze whisked through the sealed room, sending a shiver up Lin Xian’s spine. What if history could be altered?

Revisiting his previous thoughts, he considered that from a temporal perspective, history could indeed be destructive. For someone capable of changing history, it could become the ultimate weapon of time.

“Like me,” Lin Xian realized. With a precise and detailed history book documenting every significant event, time, location, and impact, he might reshape the future as he desired.

This was mere speculation, yet even minor manipulations of the temporal butterfly effect could have terrifying consequences.

For instance, if Lin Xian disliked the future depicted in his second dream, with its towering walls in the new metropolis, he could trace its origins. He could identify who first proposed the metropolis concept and why, trace their lineage back to 2023, and determine who gave birth to this visionary centuries later. By preventing this individual’s ancestors from meeting, he could obliterate the steel cities of 600 years hence.

While radical and challenging, Lin Xian knew it wasn’t impossible. This was just one simple example. With detailed historical records, the possibilities were endless.

“Could it be that to prevent such alterations, the future world tightly controls history, creating historical gaps?”

This thought fascinated Lin Xian. He believed the true history was preserved somewhere, controlled or concealed as it might be. Even if fragmented and chaotic, traces of history must exist.

In his first dream, though details were vague, the list of World Cup champions had survived. Even lacking specifics, that too was history—a trace of the past.

“Perhaps the sample size of those waterlogged books was too small, or maybe the water damage spared the history section.”

Lin Xian felt it premature to draw conclusions. To verify the existence of history books in New Donghai City, a thorough investigation would be necessary.

Having slept from the afternoon until now had reversed his schedule. Not feeling tired, he got up, left the company, grabbed supper, showered, and returned to bed.

That evening, in an upscale western restaurant, soft classical music played. Waiters glided around, serving exquisite dishes to the patrons. The place was busy yet subdued, with guests conversing in hushed tones.

“Nice choice,” Zhao Ying Jun remarked, elegantly attired. Her emerald earrings sparkled under the warm lighting, adding a touch of sophisticated charm.

She had shed her dark green coat, revealing a sleek black turtleneck. Sitting across from Lin Xian, she admired the restaurant’s ambiance. “I’ve known about this place for ages. It’s near my home, but this is my first visit.”

“The caviar is reputed to be excellent,” Lin Xian commented, observing the classical decor. “It’s my first time here as well.”

In the past, Lin Xian wouldn’t have frequented such an establishment, not due to its cost, but because he didn’t value the experience. Despite its prices, he had not acquired a taste for such cuisine. Most patrons came for business discussions rather than the food itself.

The meal progressed with several appetizers, quickly followed by entrees and desserts. Lin Xian and Zhao Ying Jun chatted amiably, discussing the dishes, flavors, and wines. Zhao Ying Jun, likely due to her upbringing, was knowledgeable yet never dwelt on topics beyond Lin Xian’s understanding. Instead, she skillfully steered their conversation towards familiar subjects like art, movies, and college life.

Her demeanor was considerate, making Lin Xian feel relaxed and valued. It seemed her elegance was not just a facade but a genuine aspect of her character—listening more than speaking, a rare quality.

“Honestly, I was hesitant when you mentioned leaving MX Company,” Zhao Ying Jun admitted after dessert, dabbing her lips with a napkin and looking earnestly at Lin Xian. “I was surprised by your ambition. It’s refreshing to see you taking initiative. Finding a purpose and striving for something worthwhile is indeed a blessing.”

“I’m just challenging myself, trying to add meaning to my life,” Lin Xian responded, setting down his wine glass. “I could live comfortably on royalties and commissions, but earning my own money has shifted my perspective. I aspire to build something significant, much like you have.”

Lin Xian hoped to mirror Zhao Ying Jun’s drive and insight, gaining her trust and possibly a closer role in her ventures. This could provide him opportunities to explore the Genius Club invitation further.

“But I acknowledge my current limitations. I’m not yet ready to venture out on my own. For now, I’m committed to learning from you and gaining invaluable experience at MX Company.”

“I hope you can guide and mentor me. I have much to learn.”

Raising his glass, Lin Xian smiled at Zhao Ying Jun. “Perhaps I’m not the most eloquent, and maybe my words are clumsy. But I’m truly fortunate to be part of MX Company and to have you as my mentor.”

Zhao Ying Jun raised her glass in response, smiling warmly. “And I am fortunate to have a team member like you.”

They sipped their wine, then continued their discussion, touching on the Rhine Cat project, Xu Yun, and other topics.

Lin Xian learned that Zhao Ying Jun had postponed a meeting with a director to dine with him tonight. Her schedule was packed, meeting with composers one day, directors the next, and artists thereafter.

Reflecting on her hectic life, Lin Xian realized such a demanding routine was far from the commanding CEO lifestyle he had imagined.

“Sometimes, taking it easy isn’t so bad,” he thought but kept these thoughts to himself. Outwardly, he remained the ambitious professional, always prioritizing advancement at MX Company.

After dinner, Zhao Ying Jun offered Lin Xian a ride home, but he declined, citing plans with friends nearby. He had chosen the restaurant close to her home for safety reasons, ensuring she wouldn’t have to travel far at night. Caution was always prudent.

“Then I’ll be off,” Zhao Ying Jun said as her driver closed her car door.

Rolling down her window, she smiled at Lin Xian. “Thanks for dinner. The caviar was indeed excellent.”

“Goodbye,” Lin Xian waved as her car pulled away. She was only a five-minute drive from home. Checking his watch, he noted it was just past 9 PM, far from “midnight.”

“Tonight, everything should be fine.”

The next day, Lin Xian checked his phone for news about Donghai, scanning for any reports on shootings or related incidents.

“Nothing.”

Shootings were rare and heavily reported in this country. If something had happened in Donghai City involving Zhao Ying Jun, it would have made the headlines.

This meant the predicted shooting incident that could have ended Zhao Ying Jun’s life hadn’t occurred.

Checking the date on his bedside clock, Lin Xian noted, January 14, 2023. “Tonight… is Zhao Ying Jun’s date of death.”