Genius Playground

Saying that, she started looking for a spot in the living room.

In the end, she chose a spot behind the enormous birthday cake. She leaned forward, propping her elbows on the table and cupping her cheeks in her hands. With a sweet smile, she tilted her head, her long pink hair cascading down one side like a waterfall—a picture-perfect pose:

"I’m ready~"

In an instant, a dozen points of light flared to life. Her friends and his roommates had all turned on their phone flashlights, bathing the already radiant Nan Xiuxiu in even more light from every direction.

Jiang Ran raised the film camera to his eye, observing her through the viewfinder. This was the girl who had terrified him on multiple occasions... and yet, had also surprised him just as many times.

It was a blur.

The image in the viewfinder was like a mosaic, with Nan Xiuxiu and the cake melting into one another.

’But how do I focus?’

Jiang Ran fumbled with the various knobs, but none of them seemed right. One was so stiff it required considerable force to move. He was halfway through prying at it when he realized it was probably the film advance lever, so he quickly stopped.

"Hey, what’s taking so long?" Wang Hao complained, his arm getting tired from holding up his phone.

"Why are you rushing him?!"

The blonde girl in the spaghetti-strap top shot back, clearly annoyed:

"Jiang Ran’s a professional, okay? Do you think this is as simple as snapping a picture with your phone?"

"Oh... right..."

The sharp retort made Wang Hao falter.

’Even though I was the one who made up the lie about him,’ Wang Hao thought, ’judging by what Xiuxiu just said, Jiang Ran is always hanging around the East Sea University Film Club... He must have learned how to use a film camera by now, right?’

’Otherwise, why would he be going to the Film Club all the time?’

...

Fortunately, his luck hadn’t completely run out. Jiang Ran’s fumbling fingers found the focus ring on the lens. After twisting it back and forth a few times, he finally brought the image into focus.

The view snapped into focus.

Nan Xiuxiu’s sweet smile quivered along with the waterfall of her pink hair. The scattered flashes from the phones around them were as dazzling as starlight, and the light reflecting off the frosted cake made her already lovely face seem even more flawless.

For a moment...

Staring at the free-spirited young woman through the viewfinder, Jiang Ran found himself in a bit of a daze.

’If only none of this had ever happened...’

’If only we hadn’t met in such a bizarre way...’

’If only the business with Cheng Mengxue and Qin Feng wasn’t weighing on my mind...’

’If only our world lines were never meant to intersect...’

’If only...’

’If only...’

But alas, there were no ’if onlys’.

CLICK!

He pressed the shutter down decisively. The camera made a sharp, crisp sound, recording this moment of [True History].

"Wow, somehow, taking a picture with an old camera like this feels so ceremonial."

Another one of Nan Xiuxiu’s long-haired friends remarked:

"When we use our phones, we just take a bunch of shots in burst mode, then pick the best-looking one to edit later."

"But with these old cameras, a roll of film only has twenty or thirty exposures. Every shot you take is one less you have. You can’t delete or edit them... It makes every single photo feel incredibly precious."

Jiang Ran couldn’t agree more.

He’d felt the same way when he was taking the picture. With a phone, he wouldn’t have cared about composition or expression or any of that—he would’ve just snapped a dozen photos and picked one out later.

But holding such a heavy camera, knowing you have very few chances, makes you treasure each attempt.

Every adjustment of the focus, every framing of the shot, even the amount of pressure applied to the shutter button... everything was done with delicate, painstaking care.

Perhaps that was the charm of film photography. No wonder Chi Xiaoguo was so obsessed with it.

Nan Xiuxiu stood up and walked over to Jiang Ran, her gaze falling on the camera in his hands:

"It’s a shame this isn’t a digital camera. We can’t see the picture you just took."

"Yeah."

Jiang Ran nodded.

"To see the photos, you have to finish the entire roll first. Then it has to be developed, which is a complicated process."

"Most photo labs don’t even have darkrooms or developing equipment anymore. The camera, the film... they’re all relics of a bygone era."

"But don’t you have friends in the Film Club?" Nan Xiuxiu reminded him.

"I’m sure they could help you get the pictures developed."

Jiang Ran nodded silently.

’The Film Club does have a small, abandoned darkroom,’ he thought. ’And Chi Xiaoguo probably knows how to develop photos.’

’If I wanted to develop that picture, I could definitely ask Chi Xiaoguo for help.’

’It’s just...’

’If this world line even lasts until that day.’

Jiang Ran put the lens cap on and returned the camera to its dust bag.

’There probably won’t be a chance.’

’This roll of film will never be finished, and this picture will never be developed.’

’Since the Positron Cannon can still be activated, there has to be a way to send a Time SMS back to the past.’

’If I’m lucky, I can do it tomorrow morning.’

’When the world line shifts again, everything here, everything in this moment—’

’The cake, the roommates, her friends, the camera, the gifts, Nan Xiuxiu...’

’—will all be overwritten by a new history.’

’And every single one of them will be thrust into a new history, a new life.’

"Let’s eat."

After packing the camera away, Jiang Ran smiled at the group. "Thank you all for celebrating my birthday with me today. I’m really happy."

...

The lavish birthday dinner began.

A gathering of university students in the prime of their lives is always a lively and passionate affair.

After a few glasses of red wine, the ice was broken, and Jiang Ran’s five roommates were, as they had hoped, deep in conversation with Nan Xiuxiu’s friends.

Each of them was like a baboon in heat, frantically showing off their talents, knowledge, ideals, and worldviews.

Roommate #1 never did get his prize, the iPhone 16. He’d only ended up a few hundred yuan poorer in shipping and insurance fees, a lesson learned the hard way. Now, he was deep in conversation with the blonde girl in the spaghetti-strap top, discussing Schopenhauer, Kafka, Wang Zhaojun, and Honor of Kings.