Genius Playground

The closed loop of the temporal Butterfly Effect.

Unpredictable, yet inextricably linked.

To be precise, Chi Xiaoguo wasn’t the only one whose life had been altered.

In this brand-new timeline, Jiang Ran, Qin Feng, and Cheng Mengxue had all never enrolled at East Sea University.

Therefore...

A total of three people had their fates changed by the Butterfly Effect, "replacing" the original trio and getting accepted into East Sea University.

How fascinating.

Jiang Ran marveled inwardly.

’The tornado of the Butterfly Effect changes so many things, yet history stitches itself back together. No role is ever left unfilled.’

"I was just guessing. It was a complete coincidence."

Jiang Ran looked at Chi Xiaoguo and chuckled. "A friend of mine also really wanted to get into the East Sea University School of Art. She even applied for the same major as you."

"But clearly... you squeezed her out. You were the last lucky person to be accepted."

Chi Xiaoguo scratched her head, embarrassed.

"Oh, I feel so bad about that. Is... is she doing okay now? Did she get into her second-choice school?"

"She’s doing fine."

Jiang Ran replied perfunctorily.

"Everyone has their own path in life."

...

After that, Yan Rui took them to the club management department to handle the paperwork.

Everything went smoothly.

The club was saved from dissolution, the presidency was officially handed over, and Chi Xiaoguo, as the new president, took on the mantle of the Film Club.

"This way, I can leave the university without any regrets."

Triggering the same dialogue as before, Yan Rui was like an NPC, repeating the exact same words he had said to Jiang Ran in the original timeline.

"The future of the Film Club is in your hands!"

"Of course, if you run into any problems later on, feel free to contact me anytime. I’ll do everything I can to help."

Jiang Ran waved, sending Yan Rui off with Chi Xiaoguo. He watched his back as he left the small clubroom for the last time.

"Now, it’s up to us."

He looked down at Chi Xiaoguo.

"Let’s go. We need to write the application and the letter of guarantee to get the confiscated Positron Cannon back."

Another flurry of running around ensued.

For Jiang Ran, however, it was all familiar territory. He just went through the motions.

Chi Xiaoguo was like a confused little spinning top, simply following close behind Jiang Ran. Wherever he went, she went. When he told her to sign, she signed. When he told her to swear an oath, she swore it.

Finally...

All the procedures were complete. There was only one final step left.

Holding the retrieval form, Jiang Ran led Chi Xiaoguo toward the university warehouse.

With this stamped form, they could retrieve the Positron Cannon from the warehouse.

’Excellent.’

’Everything went smoothly, after all.’

’There was still a lot of work to do after getting the Positron Cannon back. But... as long as I get my hands on it, Mission: Save Cheng Mengxue is at least ninety percent complete.’

"Senior!"

Chi Xiaoguo hurried to keep up.

"You’re walking too fast!"

One of Jiang Ran’s steps was equal to two of hers, and her short legs really were struggling to keep up.

"Sorry."

Jiang Ran had been lost in thought and hadn’t noticed. He quickly slowed his pace.

Even though he’d explained multiple times that he wasn’t her senior and was in the same year as her, Chi Xiaoguo seemed to like calling him that anyway.

He couldn’t be bothered to argue the point, so he let it go.

"Senior."

Chi Xiaoguo drew closer.

"I can tell you must really love film photography. What kind of camera do you usually use?"

The question stumped Jiang Ran.

He had never used a film camera even once, and had never even touched a roll of film.

"Why do you say that?" Jiang Ran asked in return.

"Because you must love film photography to be so concerned about the club’s survival and run around doing all this work."

Chi Xiaoguo’s eyes were full of expectation.

"You’re not even a student at East Sea University, yet you’ve done so much for the Film Club. It can only be because of a pure passion for it."

"Thank you so much, Senior Jiang Ran. If you hadn’t led me and guided me the whole way, I never would have been able to get through all this paperwork."

"You’re definitely more suited to be the Film Club president than I am. That’s what I truly believe... I hope you’ll come here often in the future. I’ll follow your lead!"

...

Chi Xiaoguo’s sweet, chattering voice was surprisingly pleasant to listen to.

"What about you?"

Jiang Ran smiled faintly.

"Why do you like something so old-fashioned? What’s so special about film cameras to you?"

"Of course there is!"

As she spoke about her passion, Chi Xiaoguo skipped ahead of Jiang Ran, then turned to walk backwards, her hands clasped behind her back.

"Film cameras and digital cameras are completely different. To put it simply, a digital camera uses a sensor to analyze the color of pixels, then converts that into data to be stored."

"In my opinion, that kind of color simulation is completely fake. It’s not the true color of the object itself... It doesn’t matter how high the resolution is or how accurate the colors are on a digital camera."

"’What’s real is real, and what’s fake is fake.’"

"But a film camera is different. The moment the shutter opens, real light hits the photosensitive film, and the color couplers on the film instantly produce the truest image."

"That authenticity has no trace of falsehood. It’s the biggest difference in the imaging principles of film and digital cameras, and it’s also what I think is the most romantic thing about film photography—"

She tilted her head up, looking at the brilliant sky, and squinted with a giggle.

"’What a film camera records... is the truest history of the world.’"

"Every ray of light, every particle of color, even every speck of grain... they are all the world as it truly was in the instant the shutter was pressed."

...

Following Chi Xiaoguo’s gaze, Jiang Ran looked up as well.

The sunlight was perfect, illuminating everything.

Against the backdrop of the azure sky, a distant airplane left a contrail that cut across the white clouds. A brown bird leaped from a treetop, making the tender green branches sway and catching a rainbow of light on the hazy tips of the leaves.

Yes.

’All of this... these were the world’s truest colors.’

Jiang Ran also had a basic understanding of the principles behind digital and film cameras.

Currently, the color depth of most digital cameras is 8-bit or 12-bit, with high-end models reaching 14-bit.

But this also means the number of colors a digital camera can display is finite, unable to fully reproduce every color the human eye can see.

A film camera, however, is different.

It has no sensor or electronic components. It relies directly on the shutter to capture the true light of nature, and the silver halide on the film absorbs that light at a molecular level to produce the corresponding colors.

So, Chi Xiaoguo was right.

In a sense, the range of colors film can record is infinite. It is the most real.

It was quite magical.

Jiang Ran himself had never thought it was that big of a deal.

But hearing Chi Xiaoguo put it that way, it really did feel rather romantic.

’This must be... the art of language.’

"We’re at the warehouse."

Jiang Ran handed the retrieval form to Chi Xiaoguo.

"You’re the president. You go talk to the warehouse manager."

After confirming the paperwork...

The manager led them to the university warehouse and unlocked the door.

WHOOSH.

A wave of damp, musty air washed over them, seeming to speak of the weight of history.

Following the manager, Jiang Ran once again arrived in front of the familiar shelf.

The Positron Cannon.

The magical machine—square and boxy, with a cylindrical barrel on the front, looking like an oversized vintage camera—lay there quietly.

Jiang Ran’s heart pounded as he recalled the image of the original trio carrying it away.

"Finally... I’ve found you."

But...

"Huh?"

He blinked, realizing something was wrong.

He hurried over, wiped the dust off with his palm, and stared at the Positron Cannon’s casing.

"Why is there a dent?!"

He winced as he touched the obvious dent on top of the Positron Cannon, where it looked like it had been smashed. He turned back to the manager.

"What happened here?"