Genius Playground

Heh.

No way.

Wang Hao had to laugh at his own foolish idea.

He held firm to his conviction—

In this world, you could find fake luxury goods, fake food, fake everything, but people couldn’t be fake!

If someone was standing right there in front of you, flesh and blood, then they had to be the real deal.

So.

The two people before him were his best friends, the unbreakable trio of his life.

Jiang Ran was real!

And Cheng Mengxue was real too!

Hm?

Suddenly, a thought occurred to him.

Logically, the incident with Song He getting food poisoning and the supermarket changing owners... it was such a huge deal back then. How could Jiang Ran have absolutely no memory of it?

That would be completely unbelievable.

But judging from Jiang Ran’s reaction just now, he truly seemed clueless, as if he were hearing about it for the very first time.

Could it be...

’This is all part of Jiang Ran’s plan?’

In an instant,

The realization hit Wang Hao like a ton of bricks.

Brilliant. Absolutely brilliant!

Jiang Ran’s clueless expression, his innocent eyes, his dazed reaction a moment ago—it had all completely fooled Wang Hao, who had genuinely started to think Jiang Ran had lost his memory.

Tsk tsk tsk.

He clicked his tongue in admiration.

’As expected of a genius,’ he thought. ’Not only is he full of brilliant schemes, his acting is top-notch too!’

...

Meanwhile, Jiang Ran was making casual small talk with Cheng Mengxue.

’My recent attempts at verification have all failed, and I just made a huge fool of myself. Now is definitely not the time to keep prying,’ he thought. ’I should back off for a bit. I can’t make my suspicions about her authenticity too obvious.’

They chatted casually, like normal friends, like normal childhood sweethearts who hadn’t seen each other in a long time.

And in truth, it had been a long time.

In Cheng Mengxue’s eyes, they hadn’t been in touch for two years.

In Jiang Ran’s eyes, they had been separated by a worldline for three months.

They talked about what they’d been up to for the past two years: Cheng Mengxue’s life in the United States, the world-class University of Pennsylvania, and her studies there.

”I chose a major I would have never picked before—medical and pharmaceutical research,”

Cheng Mengxue said leisurely, swirling her teacup.

”You know me. I’ve never liked the sciences, doing research, or running experiments. I’ve always preferred the humanities.”

Jiang Ran nodded.

”Then... why choose a pharmaceutical major? Those programs usually take a long time and are difficult to graduate from.”

Cheng Mengxue had just mentioned that the scientist had a very high academic standing, and she had even shown Jiang Ran his online encyclopedia page.

She explained that the two-year confidentiality agreement had expired. The scientist had told her family that while the details of the experiment itself had to remain secret, everything else was fair game to talk about.

Jiang Ran glanced at the screen, committing the scientist’s name to memory.

According to online reports, the scientist was truly remarkable. Everyone said it was only a matter of time before he won the Nobel Prize in Medicine. The consensus was that the only reason he hadn’t won yet was his age—still in his thirties—and that he just needed one more era-defining achievement to seal the deal.

Uh...

’I guess that’s the standard they hold geniuses to.’

At least, from Jiang Ran’s perspective, the scientist was already incredibly accomplished. He had a laundry list of awards to his name and an extremely high academic standing. He was the very definition of a young prodigy.

”I guess it was the doctors who changed my mind,”

Cheng Mengxue answered truthfully.

”Watching them do everything they could to treat me, staying by my side through my recovery, and tackling one medical challenge after another with such incredible passion...”

”Honestly, I was really moved and deeply inspired. They told me that there are many incurable diseases in the world and that most treatments still rely on the body’s own immune system. The role of medicine is often just to buy that immune system a little more time.”

”The scientist himself told me the cruelest part of the pharmaceutical industry isn’t failing to develop a cure. It’s developing a drug... that patients can’t afford. It’s not necessarily because companies are heartless and trying to cash in; it’s because the research and development costs are so terrifyingly high that even the top pharmaceutical firms can barely shoulder them.”

”So... I want to give it a try. Their medical science gave me a new lease on life, and I want to use my own efforts to help other people in need, people suffering from pain and injury.”

Her voice was soft, yet filled with power.

Jiang Ran watched her in silence.

He watched this girl... who was feeling more and more familiar.

This was Cheng Mengxue.

Innocent, kind, compassionate.

He was becoming more and more convinced that the girl before him might truly be Cheng Mengxue.

Because...

He had tried his best.

He truly couldn’t find a single flaw.

Everything—every detail, every feeling—confirmed that this girl was indistinguishable from the childhood sweetheart in his memories.

And what’s more...

The longer he talked with her, the more he found himself sinking into the warm embrace of memory, his body and mind relaxing, his guard falling, a genuine smile appearing on his face without him even realizing it.

This dissonance was tearing Jiang Ran apart.

’Should I just open my heart completely and trust the Cheng Mengxue in front of me?’

His heart told him to believe, but his head wouldn’t let him.

To quantify it...

As of right now—

He was 99.99% certain that the girl before him was the real Cheng Mengxue, the childhood sweetheart he had desperately been searching for, the one who had grown up alongside him.

It was only a minuscule 0.01% chance—a sliver of doubt with no evidence and no logical reason behind it—that made him suspect this Cheng Mengxue was a fake.

’Murphy’s Law.’

For some reason, Jiang Ran recalled something Teacher Zhang Yang once said in a general studies class: