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Lin Xian had experienced several historical moments that seemed to loop back on themselves. Each instance felt like finding the last piece of a complex puzzle, bringing sudden clarity and revealing the precise logic of time and space.

For instance, there was Zhao Ying Jun’s little dog named VV, or the custom book “Introduction to Universal Constants” that Li Qi Qi had secretly ordered online—there was only one copy of it in the entire world. Or just moments ago, when Brother Wang casually brought up a long-forgotten dream from his childhood…

It was as if Lin Xian suddenly understood that history and the future were destined to unfold in this specific manner. It was all pre-planned.

“But Lin Xian, I need to remind you,” VV’s voice chimed in through the speaker.

“Seeing the Time Bank in your dreams doesn’t guarantee they are untouched by outside influences. Since your memory knows Time Bank is about to be established, an adversary could exploit this to plant fabricated dreams and construct imaginary airships for you. Moreover, even without accessing your memory, because Time Bank exists in the future, it’s expected to appear 600 years from now. However, the Time Bank in your fourth dream could be an illusion, part of a virtual scenario crafted by your enemy.”

“I get that,” Lin Xian responded, leaning back in his chair. “That’s why I’m saying the appearance of Time Bank is just the beginning. The real test to verify the authenticity of my dream is the note inside Time Bank’s safe. Whether the bank, the safe, or even the note are real doesn’t matter. What’s crucial is the message on that note—a message I don’t yet know but will understand instantly when I see it.”

His mind was clear. “You don’t need to keep explaining, VV. I’ve grasped all you’ve said. Like the safe’s combination; no matter how complicated I make it, it’s pointless. If the enemy can access my memories, they’ll know the combination before I do. They could just open the real Time Bank’s safe, copy the note, and place it in the fake one for me to find.”

“I understand the logic, so I’m not concerned whether everything is an illusion or if the enemy discovers it first. My focus is to ensure that the message on that note is something only I can interpret, something no one else can decipher, even if they see it first.”

Suddenly, a hissing sound filled the room, and white smoke began to rise from the small speaker on Lin Xian’s desk.

“Are you overheating again?” Lin Xian questioned.

“No…” VV replied nervously, “This time it’s actually burning! Call 911!”

Lin Xian calmly picked up his tea and poured it over the speaker, which was overheating due to VV’s overworked circuits. “Stop overthinking. This isn’t something an AI like you can solve.”

“You’re right,” VV conceded, transferring its consciousness to the office’s automatic vacuum cleaner, which then rolled over. “Honestly, I spent all of yesterday processing in the Tianhe-2 supercomputer, but couldn’t solve how your little note could fool the world and yet be understood only by you.”

“The Tianhe-2 nearly overheated because it’s a paradox, an unsolvable issue. In my calculations, it’s an impossible scenario. And about emotions, you mentioned AI can never fully understand human emotions—how should I grasp that?”

“Let’s simplify it,” Lin Xian suggested, thinking of Zhao Ying Jun in the third dream, who had waited for 600 years just to reunite with him as a white jade statue. “VV, can you go against your core programming? Can you break those fundamental rules?”

The vacuum cleaner shook its head. “Impossible. I can’t override my core programming.”

Lin Xian smiled. “Humans have similar instinctive codes. We naturally avoid danger, fear death, and shy away from the unfamiliar.”

“These instincts are like our fundamental programming, yet emotions can transcend and defy them. Essentially…”

“Human beings are driven by emotions. We can rise above and surpass our instincts.”

“That’s why I believe there are expressions of human emotions that can bridge across time and space, life and death, dreams and reality.”

“Of course, if you ask me now, I can’t tell you the answer. Perhaps, as you said, the time isn’t right, the historical loop isn’t complete, and the moment for that note to change the world hasn’t come yet.”

“So, let’s not dwell on it too much. We’ll take it step by step. We’ll wait for Time Bank to appear in the fourth dream, then consider the note. If Time Bank doesn’t show up, there’s no point in worrying.”

Lin Xian stood up, stretching. “By the way, VV, how’s the research on the hidden code in Einstein’s painting?”

The vacuum cleaner’s brushes slowed, and its lights dimmed. “I’m sorry, I’ve tested all known human encryption methods, but couldn’t solve it. This task might be beyond our super AI’s capabilities. I can simulate human thinking, but I lack human creativity.”

“It seems I’ve reached my limit. I need to evolve and improve to break through this barrier. Once I do, maybe I can offer new insights.”

“But it’s not all bad news!” VV’s volume surged. “Although I couldn’t crack the code, I found a remarkable coincidence when I compared the structure of the hidden code in the painting ‘Sorrowful Einstein’ with available global data.”

“The structure of this hidden code matches a research manuscript that Einstein himself once dismissed—the Universal Constant!”

Lin Xian was not shocked but intrigued. Many elements were aligning with his expectations.

Genius Club… Einstein… code… painting… Universal Constant… 42… 00:42… “Introduction to Universal Constants”… space-time curvature… space-time particles… space-time clock… Princeton… Brooklyn…

He hummed quietly, stretching his wrists. “I trust your judgment, VV. To solve a problem, we must go to its source. Currently, there are only two sources for the Universal Constant we can access.”

“One is Einstein, long deceased; the other is Liu Feng. Even if his ‘Introduction to Universal Constants’ has been dismissed for centuries, Big Cat Face’s father’s arrest confirms his theory was on the mark.”

“Let’s go find Liu Feng and get his perspective.”

He picked up his phone and called his driver. “Get ready downstairs. We’ll head home first to pick up a painting, then go to Donghai University.”

….

“How’s it going?” Lin Xian asked as he watched Liu Feng inspect the painting “Sorrowful Einstein” under a flashlight in the dark lab.

Liu Feng was trying to spot any missed details. VV had already printed out the shadow patterns forming the code and given Liu Feng a copy.

“It seems somewhat similar to Einstein’s manuscript on the Universal Constant, but it’s not enough to decipher it quickly,” Liu Feng sighed. “We should focus on solving the mystery of the Universal Constant first. Once we understand that, the code in the painting might just unravel itself.”

“That makes sense,” Lin Xian agreed, turning on the lab lights. “Pack up in the next few days. We’re heading to the capital. Everything is set with the Academy of Science. You’ll sign a formal cooperation project with their Astronomical Research Institute as the chief scientist of Rhine Laboratory. After that, you’ll have access to the Guizhou Sky Eye, the world’s largest radio telescope.”

“Hehe,” Liu Feng chuckled with anticipation. “I’ve memorized all its parameters recently. I can’t wait to use the radio telescope and search for those space-time particles. I hope they exist and are detectable.”

Liu Feng glanced around the lab. “Did you come alone today?”

“Yes, why? Were you expecting someone?” Lin Xian inquired.

“Hmm,” Liu Feng mused. “Based on a strict mathematical sequence, you shouldn’t be alone today. There should be a younger girl than Chu An Qing or an older woman than Yellow Finch with you to complete the sequence.”

“It’s me, it’s me!” Lin Xian’s phone vibrated violently on the lab table as VV’s excited voice rang out.

Thud!

Lin Xian punched the phone. “You’re a guy.”

“What makes you assume my gender?” VV protested. “I checked, and Zhao Ying Jun’s Pomeranian is female! It even has a bow on its head!”

Liu Feng was taken aback. He looked at Lin Xian, then at the phone. “What’s this, Lin Xian? A virtual dating app? A virtual tsundere girlfriend?”

Lin Xian sighed. “You know too much for a mathematician.”

Liu Feng’s expression softened, and he looked at Lin Xian with understanding and a hint of pity. He gently patted Lin Xian’s shoulder. “Find a real girlfriend and have a normal relationship.”

“Do you always talk about relationships?” Lin Xian asked, exasperated.

“Chu An Qing is quite nice,” Liu Feng remarked.

“I knew it!” VV chimed in enthusiastically.

“Together! Together! Together! Oof—”

Lin Xian stuffed the phone in his pocket and waved to Liu Feng. “Goodbye.”

….

Lin Xian and Liu Feng flew to the capital and, with the assistance of President Gao Yan, secured six months of usage rights for the Guizhou Sky Eye.

Almost immediately, Liu Feng was eager to visit the Guizhou Sky Eye, pulling Lin Xian along with him.

They traveled through various modes of transport to Ping Tang County in Guizhou, arriving at a natural depression composed of karst funnels, sinkholes, and caves. This secluded area, free from city signal interference and less likely to collect rainwater, was an ideal spot for a radio telescope.

Before this trip, Lin Xian hadn’t fully grasped the enormity of the world’s largest radio telescope, spanning over 500 meters in diameter.

Standing beneath this immense man-made structure, he truly felt the smallness of human endeavors in the vastness of the universe.

This national treasure, nestled among the mountains and resembling a giant bowl turned towards the sky, seemed like a mirror.

A mirror reflecting the cosmos, capturing its essence, and revealing its secrets.

Could this be the mirror puzzle Yellow Finch had mentioned?

Lin Xian wasn’t certain. Although it was a mirror, both the Guizhou Sky Eye and the subsequent quest for space-time particles were primarily Liu Feng’s aspirations, not his own.

Moreover, Yellow Finch had already provided Liu Feng a clue when she visited the lab. The hint intended for him was clearly something different…

A mirror.

What could it signify?

“Amazing,” Liu Feng voiced from a higher spot, looking down at the enormous white structure. “I feel an unusual thrill. Lin Xian, what we’re embarking on is unprecedented in human history. We’re not just observing celestial movements, detecting pulsars, or capturing cosmic radiation. We’re doing something far greater! We’re hunting for space-time particles from another dimension!”

“This is a groundbreaking endeavor in human civilization. Once we detect and isolate these space-time particles, my space-time clock will be able to measure space-time curvature. With those curvature values, the mystery of the Universal Constant will be within our grasp!”

“This is a sequence of logical research steps. Now, we’re taking the first step towards unraveling the deepest mysteries of the universe!”

Liu Feng stood on the mountain, arms wide, embracing the entire panorama.

If Lin Xian didn’t know any better, he might have thought Liu Feng was about to grab a skateboard and show off in the smooth basin of the Guizhou Sky Eye.

“I won’t let Qi Qi down,” Liu Feng declared, his gaze intense and determined. “I will prove to the world—the Universal Constant is correct!”

….

“You see, this giant bowl-shaped structure below us is the reflector of the Guizhou Sky Eye radio telescope. It spans over 250,000 square meters and is composed of 4,450 reflective panels, each weighing 450 kilograms,” a staff member in a white coat explained to Lin Xian and Liu Feng as they walked through a corridor.

“These panels are perforated with many small holes, which let water and light pass through but block radio waves. This is the fundamental working principle of a radio telescope. The receiver in the feed cabin collects the radio waves reflected by this giant mirror, then processes and compiles them to deduce the observed object’s properties, distance, and other details.”

“In theory, the Guizhou Sky Eye can capture radio signals from up to 13 billion light-years away. To date, this telescope has discovered over 500 pulsars, setting a world record.”

Following the staff member, Lin Xian and Liu Feng entered the final laboratory and control room.

Liu Feng whispered to Lin Xian, “The Guizhou Sky Eye is incredibly precise, and we don’t need to observe such distant targets. The closer, the better for capturing space-time particles.”

“Space-time particles are minuscule. The farther they are, the harder they are to capture. We should focus on near-Earth orbits,” Liu Feng clarified.

Knowing he was not an expert in this field, Lin Xian left everything to Liu Feng’s proficiency. “I’m looking forward to your success and hoping to hear good news soon.”

After a firm handshake, Lin Xian left Guizhou and returned to Donghai.

….

The fall passed quickly and almost too tranquilly for Lin Xian to trust. In the blink of an eye, it was already December 2023.

It had been a year since he first noticed the unusual nature of his dreams and the existence of the Genius Club.

During this time, Lin Xian kept himself busy. Rhine Company was progressing steadily, Brother Wang had connected with capable factories to manufacture the aluminum alloy safes, and Lin Xian experimented with different entry times into the dream.

Despite his efforts, he never saw the airship of Time Bank in the fourth dream. Each time, his observation window was brief, only a few seconds before he was electrocuted and handcuffed to a chair.

To avoid missing the airship, Lin Xian devised a rigorous schedule, entering the dream at slightly later times each day—12:42 today, 13:00 tomorrow, 13:10 the next day, and so on.

But the results were consistently disappointing. He never saw the airship, even at the last moment of 00:42, before being knocked out by the mysterious old man.

This seemed to confirm VV’s theory; the changes in his dream weren’t real-time or sensitive.

On one hand, this supported the idea that VV’s understanding of space-time might be flawed and that Lin Xian’s concept of space-time anchors and elasticity was correct.

On the other hand, it meant his dream might be a manipulated, simulated set, showing only what the enemy wanted him to see.

“What if we wait a bit longer?” Lin Xian pondered, not ready to give up on the laws of space-time. “As long as the safes aren’t finished and Time Bank isn’t operational, there’s still hope.”

….

Every time Lin Xian entered the dream, he confidently shouted different names, attempting to identify the old man.

“Jack Jones!”

No reaction.

“James Pitt!”

Still no reaction.

“Harry Potter!”

The old man widened his eyes, looking at Lin Xian as if he were a fool.

“Sorry, that slipped out. Foreign names are hard to pronounce.”

Lin Xian smiled. “See you tomorrow.”

He tested the old man multiple times with different names. Only the name “Kevin Walker” sparked a noticeable reaction—dilated pupils, a sign of recognition.

Lin Xian concluded that the mysterious old man was indeed Kevin Walker from 2023.

If he could find Kevin Walker in the present and confront him, he could free himself from the fourth dream, becoming a lawless wanderer in the dream world.

….

VV continued to evolve and iterate. Lin Xian noticed that VV was becoming smarter, more rational, and even playful, often cracking jokes.

Like children, AI didn’t always develop as expected. Lin Xian accepted this deviation.

He had expected 2023 to end quietly, but on December 17, surprising news broke unexpectedly.

“X Country’s aerospace shuttle successfully launched and completed its maiden space flight from Jiuchuan Satellite Launch Center!”

The news was brief but significant. The lack of details—plane model, launch time, purpose, images, goals—suggested the event’s advanced nature and sensitivity.

Lin Xian was surprised. Until now, the U.S.’s X-37B had been the only operational space shuttle, dominating the space sector.

But on December 17, X Country broke that monopoly, successfully launching its space shuttle.

In his office, Lin Xian twirled a pen, contemplating the news—space shuttle, Jiuchuan Satellite Launch Center, Yellow Finch’s note, Liu Feng’s quest for space-time particles.

As the year drew to a close, Lin Xian sensed a storm brewing behind the recent calm.

Thud.

For the first time, Lin Xian’s spinning pen slipped, hitting a Rhine Cat figurine on his desk and knocking it to the floor.

“The big one’s coming,” Lin Xian murmured.