Chapter 414: Obsession

Lin Xian thought for a long time. His head started to ache from all the thinking, but he still couldn’t remember where he had seen the name “Du Yao.”

“Sigh... I know I’ve seen it somewhere,” Lin Xian muttered, rubbing his temples. He was sure of it. He had an impression of the name, but it wasn’t a strong one. It must have been something he skimmed over without much thought—just one of those details that slipped into the back of his mind and was now difficult to retrieve.

People take in so much information every day: websites, books, ads, videos, images... It wasn’t surprising that a faint memory could get lost in all of that.

“If only I had the Neural Stimulation Helmet,” Lin Xian grumbled to himself. “If I had that helmet and zapped my brain, I’d definitely remember where I saw that name.”

“No, wait.” He suddenly paused. “If we can’t find Ms. Du Yao, then we can’t build the helmet at all... No, not even hundreds of years later. The neural research field wouldn’t have any breakthrough without her. The whole progress is stuck because of Ms. Du Yao.”

The good news was that he had a lead on Du Yao—at least he remembered seeing her name somewhere. The bad news was that Gao Wen’s letter mentioned she would die in Africa in the mid-21st century.

“Forget it, forget it. No use thinking about it now.” Lin Xian shook his head. There was no point in forcing himself. He had too many things crowding his mind already. It was better to deal with the Genius Club’s third problem, his own death mystery on July 7th, and Elon Musk’s switch-up incident first.

“Tomorrow, I’ll enter the dream again,” he yawned. This time, when he explored the seventh dream, he’d entered late. By the time he arrived, the sun had already set, and he hadn’t covered much ground. The blue-eyed woman, who was now the village chief, deserved more attention—maybe he could get more clues from spending time with her.

After all... as CC had said before, emotions could exist independently of memories. Since the blue-eyed woman’s memories had disappeared, maybe her emotions could still hold some clues, some hints.

In the fifth dream, Lin Xian had once sketched a drawing of the Rhine Cat for Zheng Xiang Yue. In that moment, after hundreds of years in hibernation, the 116-year-old Zheng Xiang Yue had burst into tears.

That was enough for Lin Xian to know—she was definitely Zheng Xiang Yue.

That was human emotion—something even harder to decipher than memory, something scientists still couldn’t fully understand.

Lin Xian walked into the kitchen, taking some instant food from the fridge. He cooked himself a simple late-night snack to fill his stomach. But he had to admit—compared to the fragrant lamb skewers, this meal tasted like cardboard. Even Big Cat Face’s braised bear head seemed more appetizing in hindsight.

“I really need to try Li Cheng’s banquet tomorrow,” Lin Xian wiped his mouth and murmured. “And maybe if I get there early enough, I can see Li Ning Ning, the little princess of the Li family.”

Lin Xian had a good impression of Li Ning Ning. She was brave and unyielding—like a butterfly fighting against the wind. He had encountered her twice before in the chaotic wasteland, and each time, he lamented that she should have been a cherished princess, not forced to scavenge in the garbage heaps.

Now, Li Ning Ning had finally become the daughter of Donghai City’s lord, a true princess. Lin Xian wanted to see her again—even if she wouldn’t recognize him, even if she had no idea who he was or that they had once hooked pinkies twice, promising him her safety talisman.

It didn’t matter. Lin Xian, who had gone through countless cycles of reincarnation and forgetfulness, didn’t mind. As long as he could see Li Ning Ning, this little girl whom fate had treated unfairly, live the happy life she deserved, he would be content.

Lin Xian stood up, washed the dishes in the kitchen, and returned to his bed to continue sleeping.

The next morning, Lin Xian woke up early. He’d been sleeping well lately, and there were things he had to do today—like visiting Rhine’s second lab with Vice President Wang.

The Rhine Second Laboratory was different from Liu Feng’s first lab. It was a commercial, profit-driven, public lab meant to generate cash flow for Rhine Company.

Currently, Rhine’s main funding still came from the 2 billion yuan sponsorships from Zhao Ying Jun and Chu Shan He. Most of that money had been used up by now. Vice President Wang had been complaining about it, saying, “Without money in the account, I just don’t feel secure.”

“We need to develop some big money-making projects, Lin Xian. The Rhine Cat is just a toy. No matter how popular it is, it’s not enough to support your spending habits... You’re always establishing labs, buying this and that, hiring PhD students, researchers, academicians... We have to pay them!”

“And you spend money like water—40 billion yuan is almost gone. If Rhine goes under, don’t forget that Time Bank will suffer too! You said that even if Rhine collapses, Time Bank must stay afloat. For Time Bank’s sake, we need a new path.”

Vice President Wang was worried—especially seeing Lin Xian seemingly idle.

So Lin Xian planned to take him to meet Nangong Meng Jie at the lab, show him their ongoing projects, and let him see what was being set up.

Driver Xiao Li picked them up in an Alphard minivan and drove them to the Rhine Second Laboratory on the outskirts of the city. When they entered, they found many researchers, both young and old, bustling around, their faces lit with excitement and joy.

“Why are they so happy?” Wang asked in disbelief. Even with Rhine’s great internal benefits, most people still looked like they were going to a funeral when they showed up for work.

But here... everyone seemed thrilled as if they were at a party.

“Because they’re doing something great,” Lin Xian explained with a smile. “They’re doing something that will change humanity’s future. Once the micro nuclear battery is invented, it will reshape the entire world—energy, economics, consumer electronics, even people’s daily lives.

“People have said that the next industrial revolution will happen in the battery sector. I deeply believe that. Imagine a battery that can last for decades, even centuries, without degrading. How many groundbreaking innovations could that bring?

“Take the recently trending hibernation pods, for example. The biggest worry is prolonged power failure. If external energy sources are cut off, the people inside are at risk. But with a micro nuclear battery, the pods can run independently for hundreds of years.

“Now you understand why they’re so enthusiastic? They’re making history. They’re pushing human civilization to new heights. Most scientists live and die without fame. But the people here? They’re the rare few who will be remembered.”

Vice President Wang nodded, enlightened. “True, you have a point. I envy them—they get to be remembered. But someone like me, just a regular guy... who will remember me in a hundred years?”

“Don’t say that, Wang,” Lin Xian patted his shoulder. “If anything, the contributions of Time Bank far surpass theirs.”

Wang laughed. “Oh, stop teasing me! Show me this Director Nangong.”

Soon, they met Nangong Meng Jie in the lab. She still dressed like a student—young and fresh out of college—giving an impression of youth mixed with wisdom. Her round face and black-rimmed glasses made it hard to associate her with being the lab’s director.

“Director Nangong, hello,” Wang greeted her and introduced himself.

Lin Xian connected them. “This is Vice President Wang of Rhine Company. He handles all company matters. If you need funding, equipment, or help dealing with government agencies, just go to him. He’s more suitable and efficient than me.”

“I figured,” Nangong nodded, throwing a pointed glance at Lin Xian. “You’re like an owl—never around during the day, and only replying to messages in the dead of night... It’s like talking to Batman, with barely two lines exchanged each day. Inefficient!”

Lin Xian chuckled. “That’s why I introduced you to Wang, to speed things up for our research.”

Nangong then gave them a tour of the lab and reported on the progress of the micro nuclear battery.

“We estimate that by the end of the year, we’ll have the first prototype ready. By mid-next year, mass production shouldn’t be a problem. While batteries for cars and high-powered appliances need more research, micro nuclear batteries for phones, computers, and smaller devices will hit the market next year.”

“We leave the business side to you. We’re just focused on the research.”

Lin Xian nodded, satisfied. “Excellent, really excellent—even earlier than I expected. It looks like the world is on the brink of great change. 2024—a year for the history books.”

“Ohh.” Big Cat Face listened carefully. “Wow, that sounds amazing.”

He swallowed. “Alright then, I won’t eat at home tonight. Gotta keep my stomach empty. You’re right—I should grab the bear’s head. And if I do get it, I’ll share the tongue and eyes with you.”

Lin Xian waved his hand. “No need.”

The two hurried along and managed to intercept the blue-eyed village chief at the northern entrance.

She didn’t seem to feel the heat, wearing a tight-fitting hunting outfit with all kinds of knives and swords at her waist. She wore bear-hide gloves, with a bow and rope strapped to her back—looking every bit as formidable as Li Cheng had described. She was the kind of person who could single-handedly guard the northern frontier.

Smith had mentioned before that, in the early days, Big Cat’s Village was always attacked by fierce animals from the nearby mountains and forests. Livestock would go missing, and villagers were often injured—it was terrifying. But ever since Yan Qiao Qiao became the village chief, people actually looked forward to animals coming down from the mountains.

After all, that meant a feast.

When a pack of wolves had attacked once, the villagers started preparing the firewood as soon as the chief ran out with her blade. Unfortunately, it seemed the animals had learned their lesson over the years—no beast had dared approach the village in a long time. Now, to get a wild animal for Li Cheng’s banquet, the chief had to venture into the mountains... these bears were really asking for trouble.

The blue-eyed chief stared at Lin Xian, just as surprised as last time. She took a picture out of her pocket, asking who Lin Xian was.

This time, Lin Xian didn’t give a straight answer. He simply said he knew the little girl in the picture, but only in passing—he knew little about her.

Because he wanted to talk to this woman, who had once been a fourteen-year-old girl, then a teenager at seventeen or eighteen, and was now thirty—he wanted to talk to her properly. In the sixth dream, everything had been too rushed, and there had been no time to communicate with the blue-eyed girl.

Sometimes, Lin Xian hoped she was Yan Qiao Qiao. Sometimes, he hoped she wasn’t—he was torn.

There were so many clues pointing to the fact that the blue-eyed girl from 2624 and Yan Qiao Qiao had much in common. But could that really prove they were the same person?

Lin Xian wasn’t sure. Their appearances were too different. Unless there was a DNA test, there was no way to know for sure.

Of course... there was another way. It was through emotions.

Yan Qiao Qiao had lost her memories, but she still held onto her feelings for her parents. Those emotions hadn’t disappeared, even when her memories had. So now—what about the blue-eyed chief? Did she still have those feelings? Did she still miss her parents?

Or did she have other emotions left?

Since the blue-eyed chief was most likely Yan Qiao Qiao, possibly even his own daughter, Lin Xian, as a father, cared—he wanted to know more about her life.

“Can I go hunting with you?” Lin Xian asked. “I’m pretty capable—I can’t promise I’ll catch a bear, but I won’t be a burden either. I can help out.”

“Sure,” the chief answered, pulling a short knife from her waist and tossing it to Lin Xian. “Use this to cut branches. If we run into any wild animals, leave it to me.”

She then tied her dark hair into a high ponytail with a leather band, shook her head to settle it, and led Lin Xian up the mountain.

She cleared the path while Lin Xian followed behind. The scene reminded him of holding Yan Qiao Qiao’s hand while walking through Disneyland—except this time, the roles were reversed.

“I heard you’ve been awake from your hibernation for over a decade,” Lin Xian said.

“Mm.” The chief nodded while clearing branches. “Almost thirteen years now.”

“Have you been happy during these years? Do you have... any worries?” Lin Xian asked.

“No,” she replied, shaking her head. “I’ve been very happy. I don’t know what my life was like before hibernation, but in these thirteen years—growing from a little girl to the village chief—I’ve felt happier than ever.

“That’s why I sometimes doubt if I’m the girl in the picture. First, we don’t look alike at all. Second, the girl in the photo looks pampered and probably lived a noble life. If that were me, could I really find happiness in a village like this? Chen Heping, the former chief, once taught us that it’s hard to go from luxury to simplicity. I’ve always thought that the reason I’m content now is that my life before must have been terrible.”

Lin Xian watched her strong back, staying silent. He cut through several branches before asking softly, “Why do you think your life before hibernation was awful?”

“Because there was nothing left in my hibernation pod’s storage locker,” the chief replied, turning her crystal blue eyes to meet his gaze before continuing forward. “Chief Chen told me that everyone else had stored ID documents, letters, memory journals, or memory drives—something to remember their past by.

“But my locker had nothing. Nothing but this one photo. If my past life had been happy, why wouldn’t I leave something behind for myself to remember it by—to at least know who I was?

“To be honest, I often look at the photo, but I don’t recognize the girl. Even the man and woman in the background—I don’t feel anything... no sense of family.”

Lin Xian paused. “Have you ever thought about your parents? About having a mother and father like everyone else?”

“No,” the chief answered firmly. “Never.

“I don’t care who the people in the photo are. Parents or not, it doesn’t matter to me—they’re not here, and I don’t remember them. The only thing that has always mattered to me—and still does—is the girl in the photo. I just want to know if she’s me. Am I Yan Qiao Qiao?”

Lin Xian walked beside her, trying to understand her thoughts. “If you don’t care about the past, why does it matter who you are?”

“I can’t really explain it.” The chief shook her head, heading toward another peak. “But in my heart, there has always been an obsession.”

“An obsession?” Lin Xian asked, intrigued.

“Like I said, I don’t care who the girl is. I don’t care who the people in the photo are, or even who I am. I just want to know if my name is Yan Qiao Qiao. That’s all. I just want to have a name.”

Lin Xian smiled slightly. “That’s a strange thought. Everyone has a name. Why does it matter?”

“I don’t know.” The chief waved dismissively. “But that’s what an obsession is, isn’t it? If my name really is Yan Qiao Qiao, I’d be very happy.”

“Why?” Lin Xian asked.

“No reason.” The chief smiled, her voice softening. “I just think Yan Qiao Qiao is a beautiful name.”