Chapter 288: College Admission·Ten‑Year‑Old Genius

Zhao Chen's finger was still on the Terminal Screen, the circuit of the photosynthetic panel had just been connected, and the progress bar jumped to 1%. He was about to input the next set of parameters when the mark on his wrist flickered lightly. Almost simultaneously, three Terminals vibrated, emitting short prompt sounds.

The three of them all lifted their heads.

Zhao Xing straightened up from the desk edge, Zhao Yang paused the module debugging in his hand, Zhao Chen directly clicked the popped‑up envelope icon. The display automatically split‑screen, and the three screens showed identical content—an electronic admission notice, with the school emblem at the top, "Frontier Interdisciplinary Science Major" in the middle, and the enrollment date noted below: January 2035.

Zhao Yang spoke first: "I've checked this school. It doesn't admit undergraduates, only takes post‑doctoral researchers."

Zhao Xing stared at the date for two seconds, "But that time… hasn't arrived yet."

Zhao Chen said nothing, swiped the page with his finger, scrolling to the bottom. In the registration effective date field, it clearly printed "January 1, 2035".

The control room fell silent for a few seconds.

The system voice suddenly rang out: "Abnormal education demand detected, unlocking 【Special Talent Channel】." Golden text floated in the air, lingered for three seconds, then vanished.

Zhao Yang looked up, "It says 'unlock,' not 'reward.'"

"That shows this was already in place," Zhao Xing turned the Terminal toward them, "Look at the signature field; the electronic seal number is F-2035-TS001, TS might stand for 'Special Channel.'"

Zhao Chen had already begun adjusting the backend Data Stream. "The signal source is the Ministry of Education's directly‑affiliated encrypted network, not the ordinary admissions system. Moreover… the timestamp on this letter is 11:47 p. m. yesterday night."

"Yesterday?" Zhao Yang frowned, "Then we haven't finished the first phase of the ecological task, and the system hasn't confirmed execution progress."

"But someone knew we would activate," Zhao Chen set the Terminal down, "Or they knew the outcome was already decided."

When the door was pushed open, none of the three turned back. Footsteps were light, leather shoes on the metal floor, rhythm steady.

The principal stood in the doorway, holding three kraft paper bags, his glasses reflecting light. He exhaled, as if he had walked a long way.

"You… really received it?" his voice was a bit hoarse.

Zhao Xing finally turned around, "You also think something's off?"

The principal gave no answer, walked to the Operation Console, and set the paper bags down one by one. The school name, embossed in gold, was on the cover, feeling slightly textured to the touch. His finger trembled a bit, and he adjusted his glasses.

"I've been principal for thirty years, never seen a ten‑year‑old with an admission letter," he said, "The Education Bureau called to ask if the system erred; I said it wasn't a technical issue, it was… the Rules Sign couldn't keep up."

Zhao Yang pulled out a paper notice; the paper was relatively thick, and the watermark showed a Gear Set crossing a sapling under the light. His fingertip brushed the lower‑right corner, where a line of small text read: Registration effective date — January 1, 2035.

"That's not a typo," he said.

The principal nodded, "I've seen it too. It's not a printing error, nor a template issue. All documents, including the archived copies, bear this date."

Zhao Xing suddenly asked, "You just said 'the Rules Sign can't keep up,' meaning… this isn't a violation?"

"It counts," the principal chuckled wryly, "On the surface it's absolutely a violation. But a special‑case application was approved above, stamped with the highest Science and Technology Committee seal. The reason: 'National Emergency Reserve Talent Program.'"

"We didn't apply," Zhao Chen said.

"No application was needed from you," the principal said, looking at him, "The system automatically submitted the materials, including all your project records from the past two years, technical patents, and… the data report from that UN peace mediation."

Zhao Yang lowered his head and turned the page, "So it's not the university recruiting us; some mechanism listed us in."

"Pretty much," the principal sighed, "I came today not just to deliver the notice. I wanted to ask you… when you plan to report for enrollment?"

The three remained motionless.

Zhao Xing gently placed the notice back into the paper bag, "Do you think we should go?"

"I don't know," the principal shook his head, "Logically, you should keep attending elementary school, and enroll when you're of age. But the current situation… no one can say for sure."

He paused, "Last night, the archive system automatically updated your status. No longer 'under‑age research assistants,' but 'National Top‑Tier Reserve Talent.' Permission level now directly matches the Academician Tier."

Zhao Chen looked up, "So, since last night, we've already been counted as 'on‑the‑job personnel'?"

"Correct," the principal nodded, "The salary card was printed this morning, under the Academy's name. Benefits follow the Senior Engineer standard."

Zhao Yang smiled, "Ten‑year‑old engineer."

"Sounds absurd," the principal also laughed, though his gaze remained solemn, "But that's how it happened."

He glanced at his watch again, "I have to go. The car is waiting outside, and I still need to go to the Education Bureau for a meeting to explain this. They want to know how to account for this to other parents."

Zhao Xing suddenly said, "Do you believe time can be brought forward?"

The principal halted his movements.

"I mean," Zhao Xing pointed at the date on the notice, "If something hasn't happened yet, but it's already recorded, is it the future or the present?"

The principal was silent for a moment, folded the empty paper bag in his hand twice, and placed it on the table.

"I've taught for a lifetime, only knowing the Rules Sign," he said, "But the path you're now on is no longer within the Rules Sign."

After the door closed, the room fell quiet again.

Zhao Chen reopened the Terminal and retrieved the history log. He entered "2035" as a keyword, filtering all related events. The first entry that popped up was the source‑mirror image from Chapter 260, showing a hazy city scene with a background broadcast reporting 'Air quality red alert.' The second was the decoded ancient manuscript data packet from Chapter 280, which mentioned 'The Time‑Space Management Bureau was established in spring 2035.' The third was an ecological report title sent by Chen Jianguo, also dated 2035.

"Not a coincidence," Zhao Yang stood beside him, "That term appears far too often."

Zhao Xing walked to the energy core, reached out and touched the floating task progress bar. Ecological renovation Phase 1 had progressed to 2%. He stared at the numbers, then said, "What we're doing may have already been seen by someone."

"Who?"

"Our future selves," he said, "or perhaps those who have already lived through all this."

Zhao Chen closed the search page and switched to the system Permission interface. The four characters 【Special Talent Channel】 floated there quietly, with a line of small text beneath: Scope — cross‑age education, rank‑bypassing appointments, non‑standard research project initiation.

"It gave us a path," he said, "But whether the endpoint of that path was already set?"

Zhao Yang picked up the paper notice and turned to the last page. In the blank space was a line of handwritten script, the ink darker, as if added temporarily with a fountain pen:

"Don't wait until twelve; there isn't enough time."

The handwriting was very familiar.

"That's Jian Guo Ge's handwriting," Zhao Yang said.

Zhao Xing immediately looked up, "When did he write it? We didn't see him come in."

"Not today," Zhao Chen enlarged the image, "The ink oxidation level shows the writing was at least seven days old. At that time we were still debugging the emotion device; he was sitting in the corner eating a lollipop, notebook in hand, taking notes."

"He knew beforehand," Zhao Yang's voice lowered, "He knew we would receive this, and knew what was written on it."

Zhao Xing placed the notice back on the table, casually pulled a lollipop from his pocket, peeled it and slipped it into his mouth. He didn't chew, just let it sit, his gaze fixed on the edge of the Operation Console.

There, at some point, a paper‑folded little boat made of yellow candy paper had appeared, its bow pointing toward the energy core.

Zhao Chen noticed his stare, "You folded it?"

"Not me." Zhao Xing shook his head. "Just now there wasn't, but now there is."

Zhao Yang walked over and picked up the small boat, looked at it under the light, and said, "The candy wrapper is new, the unopened kind. Nobody in our courtyard has bought this brand recently."

Zhao Chen suddenly said, "During the system's last update, a segment of abnormal code appeared in the backend log. It was automatically cleared after three seconds, but a marker remained in the cache."

He called up the hidden record and magnified that line of characters. At the end was a simple sketch symbol—like a small boat with a wavy line underneath.

"It's responding." Zhao Xing said.

"Responding to what?"

"Our choice." He looked at the other two and said, "Whether we take this path isn't actually decided by the school, nor is it up to the education bureau. Someone—or something—is waiting for us to nod."

Zhao Yang gently placed the paper boat back in its original spot and asked, "Does that mean we've nodded now?"

No one answered.

The admission notice on the Terminal screen remained open, the "2035" in the date field faintly reflecting. The eco-task progress bar crept up slowly, at 3%.

Zhao Xing picked up the Terminal and entered a command: "Query the first activation time of the Special Talent Channel."

The system responded quickly.

The result showed: **First activation time: 2035-01-01 00:00:00**

The three of them stared at that string of numbers simultaneously.

Zhao Chen whispered, "It wasn't opened for us. We made it open."

Zhao Yang looked up at the energy core, the blue light blinking steadily. He suddenly remembered something, opened the communication module, and pulled up yesterday's backup log.

In the log from 3:12 a. m., there was an unmarked upload task.

Target address: unknown.

File name: 【Talent Channel_Activation Protocol_v1.0】

Upload device ID: FJ-001 (assigned person: Zhao Jianguo)

Timestamp: 2024-10-05 03:12:47

It came more than eight hours before the admission notice was delivered.

Zhao Xing stood up, walked to the Main Control Console, and hovered his finger over the confirm key.

"He made the choice before we did."