附近人100块钱上门

After a vivid dream the previous night, he decided to revisit the film in his private cinema. His reason was specific: this film was where the number 42 first caught public attention.

With a drink in hand, Lin Xian entered his private screening room where the film was already playing.

“The Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy,” a 2005 adaptation of Douglas Adams’ novel, is known for its quirky humor and eccentric road-movie vibe. The early parts of the film, which depict the construction of an intergalactic highway requiring the demolition of Earth, might now seem lackluster. Following Earth’s destruction, the protagonist joins an alien on a series of galactic adventures, which unfold in an episodic manner.

Lin Xian watched in silence until the film reached its most famous and widely discussed segment:

On a distant planet, a highly advanced civilization sought the ultimate truth of the universe. They built Deep Thought, the most sophisticated supercomputer ever, to solve this mystery. Billions watched as the question was posed to Deep Thought: “What is the ultimate answer to life, the universe, and everything?”

After several indicators flashed, Deep Thought responded, “This calculation is immense. Please return in 7.5 million years.”

When the appointed time came, civilizations across the universe reconvened, eager for the answer. Amidst high anticipation, Deep Thought finally declared, “The ultimate answer to life, the universe, and everything is 42.”

The scene ended abruptly, plunging into silence before shifting to the next narrative arc.

“42…” Lin Xian murmured, replaying the scene. The film offered no further explanation about the significance of 42, abruptly cutting away—a decision made because, humorously, the director had no explanation either.

This riddle of the universe was beyond any Earthling’s comprehension—not the director’s, not the audience’s, and not even Douglas Adams’, who left the question deliberately vague and enigmatic in his narrative.

Yet, Adams’ intent was to craft a piece of humorous, nonsensical sci-fi, originally conceived for a children’s TV program. The lack of a detailed explanation was meant to add a layer of intrigue and fun.

However, Lin Xian wasn’t convinced it was that simple.

“If Adams included the number 42 just as a whimsical twist, why choose that specific number? What’s so special about it?”

Had Lin Xian not experienced so many extraordinary events, he might not have questioned a writer’s arbitrary choice. But the recurring appearance of the number 42 in his life—his dream entries, the time of significant events, even the calculations of universal constants in his dreams—suggested a deeper connection.

The number appeared too frequently to be mere coincidence.

As the credits rolled and Douglas Adams’ name appeared, Lin Xian pondered deeply.

“Could Adams have known something? Or perhaps stumbled upon some secret that led him to choose 42 as the ultimate answer?”

With Adams having passed in 2001, Lin Xian couldn’t seek answers from him. Adams was born in 1952 and wrote the novel in 1979. Could this mean the so-called Genius Club existed even before then, shrouded in the annals of history?

The thought sent shivers down Lin Xian’s spine. If his theory was correct, understanding how the Genius Club had remained concealed throughout history without leaving a trace, and maintaining their enigmatic agenda over centuries, was daunting.

“All these mysteries… they must be linked to 42,” Lin Xian concluded as the movie ended and the room darkened.

He stood, determined to unravel the mystery. He needed to investigate further in New Donghai City, whether by finding the book “Introduction to Universal Constants” or tracking down Big Cat Face’s father.

“The road ahead is long,” he muttered, rising from the sofa and pushing the door of the private room open.

….

Creak—

The sound of a door opening at a lakeside villa in the outskirts of Donghai City broke the silence. Sunlight streamed in through the open door, casting beams across the dust-laden air, creating a dazzling effect.

“Don’t open the windows during the day, don’t turn on the lights at night… Ji Lin, when will you heed some advice?” an elderly man complained as he entered, leaving the door ajar—the only source of light in the otherwise dark house. The natural light was a welcome change from the artificial, he thought, as the warmth touched his skin.

The living room was more cluttered than before, with magazines and newspapers strewn all over the floor.

Ji Lin, sitting cross-legged among the piles, was absorbed in the glow of his laptop screen, which cast a ghostly pallor over his face. The sunlight narrowly missed his feet, leaving him enveloped in shadow.

“Are you glued to that floor? Need me to water you?” the elderly man quipped, his tone mixed with concern and irritation. “I heard from the butler you haven’t left the house in days, not since my last visit.”

“He mentioned you ordered some plush toys online? My gosh… you’re turning into someone I don’t recognize.”

“So, what are you working on, Ji Lin? Are you really working?”