The Real History

The closed loop of the Spacetime Butterfly Effect.

Unpredictable, yet every link connected.

Strictly speaking, Chi Xiaoguo wasn't the only one whose life had been changed.

On this new Worldline, Jiang Ran, Qin Feng, and Cheng Mengxue had all failed to attend Donghai University.

Therefore...

A total of three people would have their fates changed by the Spacetime Butterfly Effect, "replacing" the trio who had been admitted to Donghai University.

How fascinating.

Jiang Ran sighed to himself.

The tornado of the Butterfly Effect changed many things, but history patched itself up, and no one was ever left out.

"I was just guessing. It was purely a coincidence."

Jiang Ran looked at Chi Xiaoguo and chuckled.

"I have a friend who really wanted to study at Donghai University's Academy of Fine Arts, and she applied for the same major as you."

"But obviously... you edged her out. You were the lucky last person admitted."

Chi Xiaoguo scratched her head awkwardly.

"Aw, I feel so bad. Is she doing okay now? Did she get into her second-choice school?"

"She's doing fine."

Jiang Ran gave a casual, evasive answer.

"Everyone has their own fate."

Afterward, Yan Rui took them to the student organizations office to complete the paperwork.

Everything went smoothly.

The Film Club secured its continued existence, the club presidency was handed over, and Chi Xiaoguo took on the burden of leading the Film Club as its new president.

"Now I can leave campus without a single regret."

As the same scene played out again, Yan Rui was like an NPC, repeating to Jiang Ran what he had said on the original Worldline.

"The future of the Film Club is in your hands!"

"Of course, if you run into any problems later, just contact me. I'll do everything I can to help."

Jiang Ran waved and saw Yan Rui off with Chi Xiaoguo, watching his back as he left the cramped clubroom for the last time.

"From here on, it's up to us."

He looked down at Chi Xiaoguo.

"Come on. Let's write the application and the pledge, then get the confiscated Positron Cannon back."

After that, they were running around again.

But for Jiang Ran, it was already familiar territory. He went through the steps one by one.

Chi Xiaoguo was completely lost, like a little spinning top. She stuck close behind Jiang Ran, going wherever he went. If he told her to sign something, she signed it; if he told her to swear an oath, she swore one.

At last...

All the paperwork was complete. Only one final step remained.

Holding the collection form, Jiang Ran led Chi Xiaoguo toward the school warehouse.

With the stamped form, they could retrieve the Positron Cannon from the warehouse.

Great.

At least everything had gone smoothly.

There was still plenty to do after they got the Positron Cannon back. But... obtaining it meant the [Save Cheng Mengxue] plan was at least 90% complete.

"Senior!"

Chi Xiaoguo hurried after him.

"You're walking too fast!"

One of Jiang Ran's steps was like two of hers. Her short legs really couldn't keep up.

"Sorry."

Jiang Ran had been lost in thought and hadn't noticed. He quickly slowed down.

Though he had told her several times that he wasn't her senior and that they were in the same year, she seemed to like calling him that.

He couldn't be bothered to argue, so he let it go.

"Senior."

Chi Xiaoguo drew closer.

"I can tell you really love film photography. What kind of camera do you usually use?"

The question caught Jiang Ran off guard.

He had never used a film camera—not even once. He'd never so much as touched a roll of film.

"What makes you say that?" Jiang Ran asked.

"Because you must really love film photography. That's why you care so much about whether film survives and have been running around helping all this time."

Chi Xiaoguo's eyes were full of anticipation.

"You're not even a student at Donghai University, yet you've done so much for the Film Club. You must be doing it out of pure love."

"Thank you so much, Senior Jiang Ran. If you hadn't guided me and shown me what to do, I could never have handled all this paperwork."

"You'd definitely be a better Film Club president than me. That's what I think, too... I hope you'll come by often. I'll do whatever you say!"

Chi Xiaoguo's sweet, chirpy voice was so lively that it lifted his mood.

"What about you?"

Jiang Ran smiled faintly.

"Why do you like something so old-fashioned? Is there something special about film cameras for you?"

"Of course!"

At the mention of what she loved, Chi Xiaoguo darted ahead of Jiang Ran, skipping as she went. She clasped her hands behind her back and walked backward.

"Film cameras are completely different from digital cameras. Put simply, digital cameras use sensors to analyze pixel colors, then convert them into data and store it."

"To me, that kind of color simulation is completely false. It isn't the true color of the subject itself... No matter how high the resolution or how accurate the colors are, it's still the same."

"[What's real is real, and what's fake is fake.]"

"But film cameras are different. The instant the shutter opens, real light falls on the photosensitive film. The developing agents on the film produce the image at that very moment."

"That kind of reality has not a trace of falseness in it. That's the biggest difference between how film and digital cameras form images. And it's also what I find most romantic about film photography—"

She lifted her head toward the brilliant sky, squinted, and grinned.

"[What a film camera captures is the truest history of this world.]"

"Every ray of light, every grain of color, even every speck of noise... all show the world exactly as it was the instant the shutter was pressed."

Following Chi Xiaoguo's gaze, Jiang Ran looked up as well.

The sunlight was perfect, shining down on everything.

Against the deep blue sky, a distant plane left a trail of exhaust across the clouds. A brown bird sprang from the treetops, making the tender green branches sway, while a rainbow shimmered along the hazy tips of the leaves.

That was right.

Everything here was the truest color of the world.

Jiang Ran also knew a little about the basic principles behind digital and film cameras.

Digital cameras generally had a color depth of 8 or 12 bits, while high-end models could reach 14.

But that also meant the range of colors a digital camera could display was limited. It couldn't fully reproduce every color the human eye could see.

Film cameras were different.

They had no sensor or electronic components. They relied directly on the shutter to capture nature's truest light, while the silver salts on the film absorbed that light at the molecular level and rendered the corresponding colors.

So Chi Xiaoguo was right.

In a sense, film could record an infinite range of colors. It was the truest medium.

It was amazing.

Jiang Ran hadn't thought there was anything particularly remarkable about it before.

But the way Chi Xiaoguo put it made it sound rather romantic.

Maybe... that was the art of language.

"We're at the warehouse."

Jiang Ran handed the collection form to Chi Xiaoguo.

"You're the president. You talk to the warehouse manager."

After checking the paperwork, the manager led them to the school warehouse and unlocked the door.

Whoosh.

A musty, damp smell greeted them, as if telling the weighty story of the past.

Following the manager, Jiang Ran returned to the familiar shelves.

The Positron Cannon.

The strange machine, square and boxy with a cylindrical barrel at the front, looked like an oversized old-fashioned camera... and lay there quietly.

Jiang Ran's heart began to race as he remembered the first time the trio had carried it away.

"I finally found you."

But...

"Huh?"

He blinked, realizing something was wrong.

He hurried over, brushed the dust away with his palm, and stared at the casing of the Positron Cannon.

"Why is there a dent?"

He touched the obvious crushed-in spot on top of the Positron Cannon, then turned to the manager in alarm.

"What happened?"