Genius Club

This novel is translated and hosted on Bcatranslation

“What’s so impossible about it?”

Lin Xian pointed towards the distant Brooklyn Bridge, then turned back to look at CC.

“In the end, it’s just a bridge—a physical one. As long as we have feet, we can walk across it from Brooklyn to Manhattan. It might take a while, but why couldn’t we make it?”

“Heh.”

CC let out a dismissive chuckle.

“Why pretend to be something you’re not? You don’t belong there. Why push so hard to go? We’re not even qualified to set foot in Manhattan.”

“Why not?” Lin Xian asked.

“Isn’t it obvious?”

CC hopped off an old, splintered crate, spreading her arms wide to show off her worn-out clothes. She pointed at Lin Xian’s patched-up coat.

“Look at us. No one in Manhattan wears clothes like these. Everyone there—men and women alike—wears neat, beautiful clothing. The men have suits or wool coats, ties, and hats. The women are dazzling—their dresses are flowing, lovely, elegant.”

She sighed, glancing down at their own tattered outfits.

“That’s the difference, Lin Xian. We belong in Brooklyn. Manhattan… it’s not our world.”

…

Lin Xian watched CC in silence. The more she spoke like this, the more he sensed her longing for Manhattan.

To be fair, this version of CC had probably faced the worst circumstances among all her reincarnations.

Zhang Yu Qian and Chu An Qing were both born into wealthy families, which made Lin Xian think that perhaps reincarnations had rules—like being born into prosperity.

CC’s background was unclear to him, but from what she shared, she had both parents alive and a relatively comfortable childhood. But this CC…

She’d had it rough. Abandoned at birth, she’d grown up in an orphanage—until it shut down, leaving her homeless.

Now here she was, standing in run-down Brooklyn, longing for a beautiful gown, her eyes filled with desire.

“Do you want a dress too?” Lin Xian asked with a gentle smile.

He had noticed how CC’s eyes lit up when she spoke of the women of Manhattan in their elegant dresses.

“Of course I do! What girl wouldn’t want a pretty dress?” CC bit her lip and spoke softly, “I’d love to wear a white dress—lace and gauze, light and airy.” �

“Why white?” Lin Xian tilted his head, curious. “This morning, when I saw the ladies coming off the boat, they wore dresses in all sorts of colors—like a rainbow, trying to catch everyone’s eye.”

He paused, then added with a grin, “And your description… it almost sounds like a wedding dress.”

CC waved her hand. “Oh, come on, I was just describing it. I’ve never worn a white dress, so how could I be that specific?”

She gave a little sigh. “The reason I want a white one is that I’ve never worn anything white before. In the orphanage, all our clothes were hand-me-downs, passed down until they were worn out.

“White clothes get dirty too easily—wear them a couple of times, and they’re ruined. So, we always wore dark colors—black, brown, blue, purple… anything but light.”

She looked down at her tattered clothes and continued, “I’m still a teenage girl, you know? Of course I want to wear something pretty—something that lets me spin around on the beach like… like Marilyn Monroe.”

She chuckled, her eyes curving like crescent moons as she looked back at Lin Xian.

“Hey, do you—you know Marilyn Monroe, Mr. Caveman?”

Lin Xian smiled at the nickname. “Of course I know her.”

Marilyn Monroe was one of the most famous actresses in America—especially now, in 1952, when her fame was at its peak.

So, when CC made that comparison, Lin Xian understood what kind of dress she dreamed of—light and flowing, like Monroe’s.

He sighed, thinking back to Chu An Qing, the little princess from Donghai. He felt a pang of sympathy for CC—this Brooklyn girl.

A simple white dress shouldn’t be such a far-off dream.

But for CC, it was like a distant star—beautiful and unattainable.

Habitually, Lin Xian put his right hand in his coat pocket, feeling for his phone, credit card, or wallet.

Nothing. His pocket was empty—emptier than his stomach.

He wasn’t the billionaire CEO he used to be—right now, he was even poorer than CC.

There was nothing he could do to help.

“If I ever get the chance, I’ll buy you a white dress,” Lin Xian promised, trying to sound casual. “Consider it my way of saying thanks for looking after me.”

“Ha!” CC gave him a disdainful look. “Stop talking nonsense. If you have that much time, why don’t you find a way to make money? Quit following me around like a puppy and causing trouble. That’d be thanks enough.”

Lin Xian laughed, shoving his hands in his pockets. “I’m serious. I don’t have money now, but that doesn’t mean I’ll always be broke. Just you wait—I’ll keep my promise.”

He glanced at the distant Manhattan skyline. “And since you like Manhattan so much, why not visit the Brooklyn Heights Promenade?”

“It’s the perfect spot to look at the Manhattan skyline. You can see the whole city from the other side of the river. It’s much better than staring from here, by the docks.”

CC snorted, crossing her arms. “Yeah, right. You make it sound so easy. Brooklyn Heights is a rich neighborhood, far from here. You think we can just waltz over there? Get real, Lin Xian. You can’t even afford food, let alone a bus ride to Brooklyn Heights. If you make money, the first thing you should do is pay back the newspaper you stole from that kid.”

Lin Xian nodded. “You’re right. Now that we’re not starving, it’s time to earn some money. Let’s see…”

He looked around, scanning the area for a way to make some quick cash.

He had traveled from the year 2234 to this primitive 1952—surely he could figure out a way to earn a bit of pocket money.

Hmm…

Lin Xian’s gaze landed on a stall down by the harbor—a shooting booth.

“Perfect.” He grinned. He grabbed CC’s arm and led her down the stairs towards the bustling stalls.

“Hey, hey! What are you doing?” CC protested, her confusion growing. “We don’t have any money. What are you thinking?”

Lin Xian just smiled. “You’ll see.”

They reached the shooting booth, keeping a little distance to observe. Right now, a well-dressed family of three, clearly wealthy, was trying to shoot the balloons.

The man wore a long black wool coat, a matching hat. The woman was elegantly dressed, and even the little girl hopping around was dolled up—wearing a sun hat and a cute little dress—a small princess.

“Daddy, I want that one!” The girl pointed at a prize on the highest shelf—a boxed doll.

Lin Xian squinted at the box’s label: “Alice in Wonderland… So it’s not a Barbie; it’s an Alice doll.”

Disney movies were already popular in 1952, and “Alice in Wonderland” must have been released around then too.

He turned to CC, “Is ‘Alice in Wonderland’ playing in theaters now?”

“I don’t know.” CC looked confused. “I’ve never been to a theater or seen a movie.”

“Oh, right.” Lin Xian felt a pang of regret. He kept forgetting that CC’s first reincarnation was a poor, wandering girl. In this era, films were still luxuries, and CC had no way to watch them.

Bang… Bang… Bang…

With each shot, a balloon burst, but the father missed some too. In the end, he managed to pop six balloons out of ten. Not enough to win a prize—certainly not enough for the Alice doll, which required a perfect score.

The little girl began to cry. “Daddy, I want Alice! I want Alice!”

The father sighed, turning to the booth operator. “Another round.”

“Of course, sir,” said the operator politely. “Play as much as you like; you can pay at the end.”

Lin Xian’s ears perked up. Perfect. He now knew the booth allowed playing on credit—just what he needed.

Bang… Bang… Bang…

The father tried several more times, but the best he managed was hitting eight balloons. They earned a measly lollipop, nowhere near the grand prize.

The little girl threw a fit. “I want Alice! I want Alice NOW!”

Her mother sighed, “Sweetie, we can buy it at the store for a few dimes when we get back.”

The father nodded, “It’s too hard to hit all ten, darling. I did my best.”

Lin Xian’s eyes gleamed. He’d just heard two more valuable bits of information: the doll was worth only a few dimes, and the girl’s parents were willing to buy it.

But the child insisted. “No, I want this one! Right now!”

Ah, spoiled kids—some things never changed, no matter the time or place.

Seeing her tantrum wasn’t ending anytime soon, Lin Xian decided it was his cue.

“Time for me to shine,” he muttered, striding towards the booth.

“What are you doing?!” CC hissed, grabbing his arm. “Are you crazy? We can’t afford this! These stall owners are tough—they’ll beat you up if you don’t pay.”

Lin Xian chuckled, brushing off her hand. “Maybe I can’t shoot bread out of those balloons, but…”

He looked at her with a twinkle in his eye. “I can earn us a ticket to Brooklyn Heights.”

CC gaped. “What?”

Ignoring her protests, Lin Xian walked to the booth. CC, unsure of what to do, hesitated before deciding to watch from a distance, ready to step in if things went south.

The booth owner was still negotiating with the father, trying to sell the doll for five dollars.

“Click.”

Lin Xian picked up the toy gun and cocked it, addressing the booth owner. “I’ll take a round.”

The owner barely glanced at him, waving dismissively. “Go ahead. Ten cents per round, ten shots. Pay up after.”

Then he went back to arguing with the father about the doll’s price.

Bang! Click.

Bang! Click.

Bang! Click.

Each shot Lin Xian fired hit its target. The father and the booth owner paused, watching in astonishment as he effortlessly took down balloon after balloon, barely even aiming.

Bang!

With the final balloon bursting, Lin Xian had scored a perfect ten.

He smirked and pointed at the Alice doll on the top shelf. “I’ll take that.”

The owner, grumbling, had no choice but to hand over the boxed doll.

Lin Xian crouched, smiling at the sniffling girl. “Would you like it?”

The girl immediately stopped crying, her eyes wide. She nodded eagerly.

The parents looked relieved and asked Lin Xian, “Would you consider selling it to us?”

Lin Xian handed the doll to the girl, then held out his hand to the father. “Two dollars, please.”

Without hesitation, the father handed over two one-dollar coins, thanked him, and left with his now-content daughter.

Lin Xian smirked. Making money off spoiled kids was easy. He then gave one dime to the booth owner. “No more games. Change, please.”

CC had been watching the whole scene, stunned.n/ô/vel/b//jn dot c//om

Lin Xian whistled, approaching CC. He opened his palm to reveal a handful of coins—1-dollar coins, 25-cent coins, 10-cent coins.

“Oh my god…” CC gasped. She had never expected this man from X Country could, in a matter of minutes, earn two dollars—like magic!

Two dollars was a fortune.

She looked up at Lin Xian, her eyes shining. “Lin Xian, you did it! This will last you for so long!”

But Lin Xian just smiled. “Survival is important, sure. But now we can afford a bus ride… to Brooklyn Heights.”

CC drew in a breath. “You…”

Finally, she understood what he meant when he said he’d get them a ticket to Brooklyn Heights.

He wasn’t joking.

Still… she shook her head. “No, Lin Xian. You should keep this money for food. Brooklyn Heights, Manhattan—they’ll be there for years. Decades. If we don’t see them today, they’re not going anywhere.”

“Lin Xian, just because you got lucky once doesn’t mean you’ll always have that luck. Don’t waste money on something unnecessary. Use it to fill your stomach.”

“No, it’s not unnecessary,” Lin Xian said seriously. “Keeping my promises, no matter how small, is what matters most.”

He looked at CC, really looked at her. For a moment, she seemed to blur with Chu An Qing—her hopeful smile, her excitement about a world beyond reach.

“There are so many things I promised and never did,” he said quietly.

He thought back to Donghai, when Chu An Qing had promised to be his guide at the British Museum—to see the famous “Sorrowful Einstein” painting and collect clues. They’d planned that trip, and she had been so eager.

It never happened.

At the Jiuquan Satellite Launch Center, on his birthday, she’d made him a sweet, sticky cake. He promised her a surprise on her twentieth birthday.

He failed.

On the Space Shuttle, two miles above Earth, in her final moments, she wrote him a note, asking him to open it in the dream.

He still hadn’t done it.

He had promised her father, Chu Shan He, that he’d protect her, bring his beloved daughter home.

But he failed.

Lin Xian sighed. Enough with broken promises.

It wasn’t that hard to buy a white dress. He didn’t need every meal—he could always find food at the church. And he didn’t know when this version of CC would disappear—a blue speck of dust in time.

Better to make the most of what little time they had.

“Huh?” CC looked puzzled. “You haven’t promised me anything… We just met.”

“Come on, let’s get moving.” Lin Xian cut her off, grabbing her wrist and pulling her along.

“Wait! Before we head out, we have to stop back at the street where we started and repay that newspaper boy,” he said over his shoulder.

CC followed behind, laughing despite herself. “You really are someone who keeps his word, huh?”

“Of course.” Lin Xian smiled, looking out at the horizon, remembering that small, stooped newspaper boy.

“I hope… he hasn’t gotten into trouble because of us.”