Genius Playground

"I really don’t know..."

"I don’t remember..."

"I don’t remember anything..."

"I opened my eyes, and Xiaoxue was dead right in front of me..."

At first, people just thought Jiang Ran was too traumatized, had a mental breakdown, and lost his memory, so they didn’t dare push him too hard.

After all, he and Cheng Mengxue were childhood sweethearts; he had no motive. Moreover, their parents knew each other very well. Despite their grief and anger, they refused to believe Jiang Ran had intentionally murdered Cheng Mengxue.

Everyone just wanted one answer from Jiang Ran:

Why didn’t you two go to the college entrance exam?

What on earth were you two going to do?

That was all.

Unfortunately...

The answers to these two questions remain a mystery to this day.

Because only two people in the world knew what happened.

Cheng Mengxue was dead.

Jiang Ran, due to the overwhelming trauma, had amnesia.

The truth of the matter, the answers to the questions, were buried deep in the earth along with Cheng Mengxue’s ashes.

After handling Cheng Mengxue’s funeral, her parents sold their house and moved to the United States without a second thought. They were never heard from again. No one could contact them; it was as if they had vanished from the face of the earth.

Cheng Mengxue was their only daughter.

Everyone speculated they were so overcome with grief that they couldn’t bear to stay, so they chose to leave.

In the aftermath—a month later, then two, then six—the police and a psychologist would visit Jiang Ran. They asked if he remembered why he and Cheng Mengxue had skipped the college entrance exams, or where they had been going.

But no matter what, Jiang Ran just couldn’t remember. His mind was a complete blank.

Eventually, the matter was left unresolved. For the sake of Jiang Ran’s mental and physical health, the police and the psychologist never sought him out again.

...

Some of this information, Jiang Ran had investigated himself, as parts of the case file were public.

Most of it, however, had come from Wang Hao and Xu Yan. They had no reason to lie to him; after all this time, what would be the point?

Jiang Ran had analyzed it.

The reason his Worldline No. 1 self had suffered a mental breakdown and fallen into depression wasn’t just Cheng Mengxue’s death in the car accident, but rather—

’It was because I couldn’t remember what happened. I didn’t understand why I had taken Cheng Mengxue and run away from the college entrance exams. That’s why I was trapped in such deep self-reproach.’

Yes, it was mostly guilt, fear, and self-reproach.

At the time, he hadn’t yet encountered the Positron Cannon or Time SMS, nor did he understand that he possessed the unique trait of "Full Space-Time Memory."

So, faced with sudden amnesia and a friend dying right before his eyes, it was naturally impossible for him to accept emotionally.

But now things were different.

’Now, Jiang Ran had a faint suspicion that his amnesia from the car crash was most likely related to Time Travel and a change in the worldline.’

He couldn’t quite piece together the logic yet.

But every Worldline Jump was accompanied by a period of memory loss. This seemed to be an undeniable law of space-time.

Therefore, this was a side quest he had set for himself over the summer break:

’Use the break in Hang City to thoroughly investigate the secret behind Cheng Mengxue’s car crash and find the truth.’

DING-DONG!

A WeChat notification sounded.

He opened it and saw it was the group chat "A Close-Knit and Loving Family," where his uncle had sent a large red envelope:

"A warm congratulations to my dear nephew for getting accepted into the graduate program at East Sea University!"

Needless to say, it must have been his mother, unable to contain her joy, who had spread the good news.

...

For the next few days, Jiang Ran couldn’t catch a break.

The news of his acceptance into the graduate program spread like wildfire. All sorts of relatives and friends came to congratulate him, and there were celebratory dinners almost every day.

If there wasn’t a dinner party on a particular day, Jiang Ran’s father would make one happen.

Seeing his son pulling himself together and becoming so successful, he was genuinely happy. He drank at least twice a day and was beaming all day long.

Finally, after nearly a week, this life of endless feasting came to an end...

Jiang Ran sat on the sofa, rubbing his stomach, feeling like he had gained several pounds.

DING-DONG!

Another WeChat notification.

He had grown a little afraid of it these past few days.

He opened it and saw it wasn’t a message, but a push notification from an official account.

He tapped it open.

It was the headline from the East Sea City University Student Film Festival—

"17th East Sea City University Student Film Festival Award-Winning Works Announced!"

"Whoa."

Jiang Ran suddenly sat bolt upright.

The results were out. They were finally announced.

He still hadn’t found the time to watch the rough cut Xu Yan had emailed him... but since it was his script, he was naturally invested.

He couldn’t wait to click it open.

The webpage refreshed.

Grand Prize!

Nope...

’Okay, keep scrolling down.’

First Prize!

Not there either...

’Crap, what’s going on?’

He kept scrolling.

Second Prize! Honorable Mention!

Nothing...

Nothing...

"This can’t be right!"

Jiang Ran scratched his head.

Everyone who read that script had praised it to no end. They couldn’t all have been just flattering him to make him happy, right?

It didn’t even get the smallest prize, not even an Honorable Mention, which was practically a consolation award?

This...

He was somewhat disappointed.

He opened WeChat, intending to send Xu Yan a message.

His fingertips hovered over the keyboard for a long time. He thought hard but couldn’t come up with any comforting words... Besides, she had probably just seen the results herself. This wasn’t the right time for condolences.

RING RING RING RING RING—

Suddenly, his phone rang.

And speak of the devil, the caller was Xu Yan.

"Uh..."

Jiang Ran quickly gathered his thoughts.

He decided that if Xu Yan started complaining, his plan was to first console her, then curse out the judges, and finally, self-deprecatingly blame his own script.

’Right, that’s the plan.’

He hit the answer button—

"Jiang Ran!!!!!"

An extremely enthusiastic, excited, practically ecstatic voice burst from the phone—it was Xu Yan!

"Huh?"

Jiang Ran responded woodenly.

’Is this reaction... right?’

"Jiang Ran!!"

Xu Yan laughed heartily.

"Jiang Ran, you’re rich, Jiang Ran! You’ve struck it rich!"

Jiang Ran thought for two seconds.

"Is it... the prize money from the university student film festival? But I just looked, and it seems we didn’t win an award."

"We won the Grand Prize!"

"Oh? Really? I’ll go look again right now!"

Maybe he really had misread it. Jiang Ran quickly glanced at the official account page he hadn’t closed yet.

But...

The Grand Prize winner was called "Spring Rain," not "Genius Playground."

Besides, the description noted that "Spring Rain" was a work by the Jiaoda Film Society.

’Did she suffer such a shock that she had a mental breakdown, too?’ he wondered, momentarily unsure how to respond.

"Oh, don’t look at the public results~"

Xu Yan laughed.

"I got a call from the organizing committee this morning. We did win the Grand Prize, but they can’t announce it publicly and told me to keep it confidential for the time being. That’s why I didn’t tell you earlier. I just finished dealing with it all."

"Why?"

Jiang Ran was confused.

"Why wouldn’t they announce it? If we won the Grand Prize, why be so secretive?"

"Hehe, you’ll never guess!"

Xu Yan’s joy was practically spilling out of the phone.

"Because—"

"A big-name director took an interest in our script! He’s planning to adapt it into a full-length feature film!"

"So, to avoid spoilers and keep the plot confidential, he and the film company bought the full rights to the script for a huge sum of money! They’re also making all of us sign NDAs, so we can’t leak any details."

Jiang Ran was stunned.

"Seriously? That can happen?"

A script he wrote, noticed by a big-name director, and getting adapted into a movie?

’When you put it that way, keeping the award under wraps makes sense,’ he thought.

If they released the short film now, all the suspense and mystery would be given away. Who would go watch the feature film later?

It was just...

This was a bit of a shame for Xu Yan.

After all, this was her last year in the film society and her final shot at the student film festival.

"As long as you’re okay with it,"

Jiang Ran said.

"I personally don’t mind either way."

"Of course I’m okay with it!"

Xu Yan was still buzzing with excitement.

"You’ll never guess how much money the film company paid for our script!"

"How much?"

"12 million! And that’s 12 million after taxes!"

"How m-much?!"

Jiang Ran shouted so loudly in the living room that his mother, who was cooking in the kitchen, poked her head out to see what was going on.

How... how much?

Jiang Ran’s eyes widened.

Twelve million after taxes?

’Is that even normal?’

And they even covered the taxes! Just how much did this film company and director appreciate the "Genius Playground" script?!

"Aiya, it’s hard to explain over the phone. Let’s talk in person."

Xu Yan sent a coffee shop location in WeChat.

"Besides, you need to sign the NDA too. I have it with me. Let’s meet at this coffee shop!"

"Okay."

Jiang Ran agreed and hung up, still feeling giddy, as if it wasn’t real.

Is...

’Is this really happening?’

He didn’t have time to overthink it.

"Mom, I’m heading out!"

He shouted and grabbed his jacket.

He opened the door and went downstairs—