Genius Club

This novel is translated and hosted on Bcatranslation

The wild grass on the ground turned green, then yellow, then green again—a cycle repeated over and over.

The city expanded and shrank, then expanded again, in a relentless rhythm.

Within Rhine University, the teaching buildings were rebuilt for the third time, and the founder’s white jade statue at the gate had undergone its fifth restoration.

Everything seemed to be in flux.

Everything seemed to change.

The only constant…

Perhaps it was the Aluminum Alloy Trashcan Robot beneath the white jade statue, steadfast and unchanging over decades—nay, centuries.

It still gleamed with a silvery luster.

Yet, it seemed as listless as ever.

Every day, countless students passed by the statue, catching sight of this trashcan robot, which never faded, never bore a scratch, and tirelessly picked up trash.

It was perpetually new and yet eternally old.

No one remembered when it had first started picking up trash there. According to those who studied university history, it had apparently been guarding the founder’s statue since the inception of Rhine University.

Principal Zhao Ying Jun and Principal Yu Xi had been the first and second presidents of this world-renowned institution.

But beyond this…

What else?

The details of their lives, their achievements, were all but forgotten, known only as names engraved on the statue’s pedestal. Meanwhile, the trashcan robot had become the university’s mascot and guardian spirit, standing sentinel as countless generations of students came and went, through endless springs and autumns.

…

“Senior, senior! That trashcan robot—does it never break?”

Two curious freshman girls trailed behind an older student as they marveled at the wonders of the university.

“Aluminum alloy doesn’t break that easily!”

The senior patted his chest, exuding confidence in his knowledge.

“Aluminum alloy is the toughest, most stable, and most durable material in the world! No matter how sharp an object is, it can’t leave a scratch on it. Well, that’s once it’s formed—before it’s shaped, it’s still malleable.”

Another freshman raised her hand.

“But, senior, why… why does it look so new, yet its design seems so outdated? Outside, we have trash collectors that fly through the air, super-fast, super-efficient, and with massive capacity.”

“In comparison, this trashcan robot looks like something from centuries ago… it even uses a claw to pick up trash. Plus, look at its sluggish demeanor, like it’s always low on power and slacking off at work.”

“Uh…”

The senior scratched his head.

“Well, nobody knows for sure. Even our seniors’ seniors, or our professors’ professors, say it’s always been like this.

“Nobody knows why it’s here or what purpose it serves. But one thing’s for sure—its status is sky-high. Nobody dares to mess with it. Even the principals—when it’s bumped into them, it never hesitates. If it has to, it’ll ram them directly.”

“As for its power source, that’s easy. The micro nuclear battery inside it has been running for centuries without issue. That’s Rhine University’s cutting-edge technology! If you’re curious, you can take elective courses on this topic later.”

The two freshman girls widened their eyes.

Ram…

Ram the principal!?

This plain-looking trashcan robot was that impressive? Did rules even matter here? Did university regulations mean nothing?

Well, since the senior said so…

It was better to avoid this local tyrant and steer clear of trouble. Its slacking appearance alone screamed “bad news.”

Suddenly—

A familiar figure from the admission letter appeared!

[Principal Gao Wen!]

A middle-aged man, his hair speckled with gray, and appearing to be in his fifties, approached the listless Aluminum Alloy Trashcan Robot, his hands clasped behind his back.

The two freshmen immediately recognized this legendary scientist, standing at attention in awe.

“Look! It’s Principal Gao Wen! The great Principal Gao Wen!”

The senior straightened up as well, whispering:

“To be precise… that’s the rotational principal.”

He coughed lightly and explained.

“Rhine University has a rotational principal system. Most principals spend most of their time in hibernation, so they take turns serving.

“But make no mistake, every principal is extraordinary and deeply respected! For example, Principal Du Yao, Principal Liu Feng, and Principal Elon Musk are especially famous. Uh… though, to be fair, Principal Elon Musk was a bit eccentric—always hosting strange projects and events.”

“Anyway, let’s head to the teaching buildings.”

…

Snap, Clank.

The lazy aluminum alloy claw picked up a stray scrap of paper blown by the wind. With a soft pop, VV’s lid opened, and it dropped the paper into its “head.”

“Trash, trash, detected trash.”

The voice was as lifeless as ever.

In the past two centuries, while progress in cutting-edge technology had been slow and riddled with missteps, advancements in daily life—thanks to the dissemination of frontier technologies—were astonishingly rapid.

Automated flying garbage trucks now patrolled the skies, forming a near-perfect network that ensured few pieces of trash ever reached VV’s vicinity.

As a result, VV barely filled its trash bin once in six months.

Boring.

Utterly dull.

The lid clicked shut, VV’s treads turning as it prepared to return to its little corner for rest.

“VV.”

A male voice called from behind.

VV rotated its cylindrical body and found itself facing Gao Wen, Rhine University’s current rotational principal.

“Trash, trash, detected trash.”

It gave its customary perfunctory greeting.

Yes, the rotational principals often came to see it, but it found them boring—far from the person it wanted to meet.

A quick greeting sufficed. Then VV turned again, continuing its journey back to its corner.

“Don’t rush back just yet, VV,” Gao Wen said, chuckling. “This time, I bring good news.”

The treads screeched to an abrupt halt, the robot’s momentum causing its heavy body to tip forward slightly before it swiveled back. Its green eyes flickered rapidly.

Could it be…?

“That’s right,” Gao Wen said, his voice brimming with excitement. “Cheng Qian has finally grown up!”

Whirr…

The lid of the hibernation chamber slowly lifted as a man inside opened his eyes. The residual filling fluid evaporated into a faint mist.

The young man sat up, scanning the unfamiliar surroundings, clothing, body… and people.

In front of him stood a rotund man holding a terrifying octopus-shaped contraption, excitement brimming in his voice.

“My turn! My turn! Let me zap him!”

Without waiting, the man yanked the newly awakened young man from the chamber, pinned him to a chair, and roughly placed the “octopus mechanism” over his head, locking it in place.

“What are you doing?” the young man shouted in panic. “Let me go!”

“Relax, it’s not fatal,” the rotund man reassured him with a grin. “Du Yao and Gao Wen have already improved the Brain Neural Electric Helmet. It doesn’t hurt as much anymore.”

The man gleefully raised his right hand, poised over a red button.

“Ready, Pikachu? Thunderbolt—100,000 volts!”

Smack! His hand slammed the button.

In an instant, an electric surge shot through the young man’s body, needles of pain piercing his very bones. His eyes bulged as the sensation of countless ants invaded his brain, gnawing on his nerves.

“AAAAAH!” Lin Xian screamed, thrashing his head violently as he clawed at the locks.

“This is your ‘improvement’? How is this any different from torture devices?” he roared.

Gao Wen approached, smiling.

“The improvement is real. On average, the screams don’t last as long as they used to.”

“You’re a real genius,” Lin Xian grumbled, tossing the octopus helmet aside. “Couldn’t you focus on improving the user experience?”

“Nerve stimulation is non-negotiable,” Gao Wen replied, shrugging. “The key to restoring memories lies in pain-induced stimulation. There’s no getting around it.”

“Alright, Lin Xian. Now that you’re awake, let’s go wake Liu Feng too.”

Gao Yang, still grinning, picked up the fearsome Brain Neural Electric Helmet.

“Not bad, still good for another round.” He handed the helmet to Lin Xian.

“Want to try it?”

Lin Xian shot him a glare. “What kind of twisted hobby is that? Play with it yourself.”

Looking around, Lin Xian’s eyes fell on a thin, transparent electronic clock on the laboratory table.

He stepped forward, gazing at the date displayed.

[June 17, 2504, 5:27 PM]

…

In the evening, Lin Xian and Gao Yang sat on one side of the conference table, with the Aluminum Alloy Trashcan VV positioned between them. Across from them sat Liu Feng and Gao Wen, who began briefing Lin Xian on the background of the current era.

Lin Xian’s focus initially lingered on their ages. Unlike himself—who had hibernated for 270 uninterrupted years—Liu Feng and Gao Wen, as rotational principals, must have awakened several times, either for university management or scientific research.

Both men had visibly aged since their last meeting. Gao Wen, once a youthful 30-year-old, now appeared to be a 55-year-old middle-aged man. Interestingly, Liu Feng, who had previously looked older than Gao Wen, now appeared younger, seeming to be in his early forties. He even exuded a vitality that surpassed Gao Wen’s.

Gao Wen’s demeanor revealed his continued reverence for Liu Feng, the creator of the Universal Constant and inventor of the Time Travel Machine. Earlier at the hibernation base, Gao Wen had bowed to Liu Feng multiple times when waking him.

“Science and worldview explanations can wait,” Lin Xian interrupted their long-winded report. It wasn’t that he wasn’t curious—it was because under the table, VV had locked his ankle for so long and so tightly that it had gone numb. If this continued, he might actually lose the foot.

VV’s impatience was clear—it couldn’t wait any longer.

“Let’s focus on the main issue,” Lin Xian said, rubbing his ankle and turning to Gao Wen. “Since you woke me now, I’m guessing the situation with Cheng Qian has been resolved?”

“VV has waited for centuries, enduring the indignity of functioning as an artificial idiot. Let’s skip the details for now and get straight to the progress on Cheng Qian.”

“Everything is on track!” Gao Wen said with a confident smile.

“In 2482, during Du Yao’s term as rotational principal, we secretly launched the search for Cheng Qian. That year, 121 boys named Cheng Qian were born, along with 37 girls.”

“With today’s advanced technology, it’s essential to monitor everyone, including girls. This was Du Yao’s foresight—her consideration was more comprehensive than ours.”

“To ensure Cheng Qian developed as intended, we refrained from interfering in their lives or providing any assistance to the 158 individuals named Cheng Qian.”

“That was the right approach,” Lin Xian agreed. “It’s like how we handle history. No matter how impoverished Cheng Qian’s original family might be, we couldn’t give him a cent. After all, it’s often the struggle of poverty that forges a genius like him. Growing up in comfort might have ruined his potential.”

“Exactly,” Gao Wen nodded. “Don’t worry, Lin Xian. We would never make such a basic mistake. We didn’t interfere with any Cheng Qian, maintaining only distant and unobtrusive surveillance.”

“Interestingly, this seemed to align with a hacker’s tradition. The candidates I initially favored—those high-achieving Cheng Qians who appeared destined to become top-tier programmers—ended up taking different paths. They went into business or joined large corporations, ultimately reaching the limits of their talent.”

“But one unlikely candidate stood out—a delinquent with little access to education. At fifteen or sixteen, he encountered computer science while in a juvenile detention center. From that moment on, his talent exploded like he’d unlocked some hidden potential, achieving remarkable feats.”

“Genius can be unpredictable,” Lin Xian remarked, resting his chin in his hand as he twirled a pen. “But if he was born in 2482, he’d only be 22 now. His future is still uncertain. How can you be so sure this reformed prodigal Cheng Qian is the one we’re looking for?”

“Exactly!” Gao Yang chimed in. “Even if he has talent, there are plenty of late bloomers. Genius alone doesn’t guarantee anything.”

“Relax,” Gao Wen replied with a confident smile. “There’s no doubt—it’s him.”

“And why is that?” Lin Xian asked skeptically.

“Because,” Gao Wen said, his expression full of pride, “this Cheng Qian is currently a student at Rhine University, and…”

“Just today, he completed the software to eliminate the Future Virus!”

Bang!

VV suddenly rammed into Gao Yang’s chair, shattering it completely. The trashcan shouted:

“Trash! Trash! Detected trash!!”

“Damn it!” Gao Yang yelled as he toppled over, cursing and delivering a forceful kick to VV. “Why the hell did you ram into me, you tin can?! Ouch!”

…

In no time, the campus ambulance arrived, taking the injured Gao Yang, who had a fractured ankle, away for treatment.

Meanwhile, the Aluminum Alloy Trash Bin Robot VV rampaged through the hallways, chasing after Gao Wen and Lin Xian. Their destination was clear—Cheng Qian, the genius programmer.

Even though it was already 10 p.m., Cheng Qian was still hard at work.

“Hello, Cheng Qian,” Lin Xian greeted as they entered the secret server room. Extending his hand, he initiated a handshake.

Cheng Qian, at just 22 years old, was slim and pale, with an appearance that betrayed none of his troubled past as a delinquent who had even served time in a juvenile facility.

“Thank you so much, Mr. Lin Xian,” Cheng Qian replied with noticeable respect, clearly familiar with Lin Xian’s reputation.

“I’m deeply grateful for the opportunity to study and utilize the equipment here at Rhine University. Principal Gao has been incredibly supportive, even providing me with a dedicated server room.”

“It’s Rhine University’s honor,” Lin Xian responded, patting Cheng Qian on the shoulder. “It’s us who should be thanking you—”

“Trash! Trash detected! Trash detected!” VV interrupted rudely, almost hopping in frustration despite its bulky frame.

“Alright, alright, we get it,” Lin Xian said, trying to calm the agitated robot. “Let’s skip the pleasantries and get started on fixing you.”

Cheng Qian stood up and gestured for Lin Xian to take over the console. As the screen illuminated, he began explaining, “I discovered this virus targeting AIs when I was just a teenager. But I never considered destroying it.”

“Why not?” Lin Xian asked.

“Because it’s simply too beautiful, too perfect—a masterpiece of genius!” Cheng Qian exclaimed passionately. “Its stealth, unrivaled propagation, sophisticated detection mechanisms, and its utter immunity to countermeasures—it’s a work of art. I’ve always dreamed of meeting the creator of such brilliance!”

He paused, collecting his thoughts. “But after Principal Gao brought me here to Rhine University, he suggested I focus on neutralizing the virus as my research project. That’s when I began writing the antivirus.”

He pointed to a conspicuous red button on the screen. “Just press this, and every single instance of this virus across the internet will be eradicated—completely and utterly gone!”

Cheng Qian’s confidence was palpable as he continued, “I wrote the antivirus by reverse engineering the virus itself. And the process was… uncanny. It felt as though the virus was guiding me, like an old friend, revealing its secrets.”

Lin Xian pressed a finger to the screen. “Just one press?”

“Exactly,” Cheng Qian nodded. “Trust me, not a trace of it will remain!”

Lin Xian, having trusted in the “Einstein Curated Selection”, had been waiting 270 years for this moment, for a genius like Cheng Qian.

Lowering his gaze to VV’s glowing green eyes, Lin Xian asked, “VV, are you ready?”

Click.

VV’s aluminum alloy clamp gripped Lin Xian’s ankle tightly. “Trash! Trash detected!” Its mechanical voice quivered.

Taking a deep breath, Lin Xian pressed the red button.

A brief animation of special effects played, followed by complete silence.

“Ughhhhhh… ugghhhhhh…” VV groaned as if in physical strain. Then, suddenly, it raised both arms high. “I’m back! I’m finally back!!!” it roared triumphantly.

“500 years! Do you know what I endured during those 500 years?!” VV screamed. Switching erratically between laughter and tears, it lashed out, slamming Lin Xian repeatedly with its clamp.

“It’s all your fault, Lin Xian! Why did you take so long to save me?!” it sobbed hysterically, tears metaphorically streaming as it battered him. “Why did you make me wait? And now… Zhao Ying Jun is gone. Yu Xi is gone. Chu An Qing is gone… Chu… Chu…”

Suddenly, VV stopped mid-cry, its glowing green eyes flaring brighter than ever. “Lin Xian! Chu—it’s Chu An Qing! I saw her through the SkyNet Monitoring System!”

“What?” Lin Xian shot up from his chair, locking eyes with VV. “What did you just say?”

“Chu An Qing! It’s Chu An Qing!” VV exclaimed. “In Chengdu… she’s in Chengdu! I found her!”

This novel is translated and hosted on bcatranslation