Chapter 2: A Message from My Grandson

Chen Xu's first thought was, Did that thief stash my laptop on top of the wardrobe or something? Did I accidentally hit some secret switch and knock it down? 

But he dismissed the idea almost instantly. 

One glance told him the laptop on the floor wasn't his old one. 

It was gorgeous. 

Among laptops, Apple's designs were the gold standard—sleek, elegant, a cut above the rest. Just the day before school started, Chen Xu had seen a long-haired girl in the library, gracefully tapping away on a creamy white MacBook. It was a sight so beautiful it practically burned into his memory. 

But this silver laptop? It had an elegance he couldn't quite pin down—more stunning and refined than even an Apple. Most silver casings leaned dull and gray, exuding a cold, metallic vibe. This one, though, shimmered with a warm, generous glow, its light soft and delicate. The streamlined body and unique curves steered clear of the boxy, rigid shapes of typical laptops, with edges that flowed into gentle arcs. It looked less like a machine and more like a piece of art. 

Chen Xu bent down, half in disbelief, and picked it up. It was light—like holding a watch! 

Impossible. 

Laptops, with all their crammed hardware, usually weighed at least five pounds. Even the so-called ultrathin models tipped the scales at nearly two kilos. This thing was freakishly light. 

Then he spotted a scratch on the edge, and his heart sank. It was like someone had taken a knife to a perfect sculpture. He knew it must've happened when it hit the floor, and though he still wasn't sure if this was some future-tech miracle, seeing a flaw on something so flawless felt like finding out your bride wasn't a virgin on your wedding night—pure gut punch. 

But before he could grumble about it, a soft silver glow flickered along the edge. The scratch healed—like skin knitting itself back together—fading until it vanished completely. 

"Holy crap, no way!" Chen Xu wasn't exactly a genius, but he'd read enough random junk to recognize this: memory metal?! 

Who the hell uses something that high-tech for a laptop shell? Was this really from the future? 

He didn't even know what he was feeling anymore. Hands shaking, he flipped open the lid… 

"What the—where's the keyboard?!" he blurted out. 

The inside looked vaguely like a modern laptop—screen up top, sure—but below that? A faintly glowing mirror-like panel, almost like another screen. No mouse. No keyboard. 

What kind of computer was this? 

He poked around for a USB port or a power button, but when his hand brushed the "mirror," the screen flared to life. 

No black boot-up screen like XP, no loading bar—just an instant burst of blue sky and white clouds. Against that backdrop, a virtual woman in an ancient palace gown appeared on the right side of the display. 

"Welcome to the Magic Box Generation One Portable Nano-Computer. Since this is your first use, please set a password to protect your private data. If you're using a public device and don't need a password, click 'Skip.'" 

Password? Hell yes, he was setting one! 

By now, Chen Xu was convinced his crazy experiment had worked—this thing didn't belong in 2006. He noticed the "mirror" below was actually a touchscreen keyboard, though he still couldn't spot a trackpad. He punched in a beefy sixteen-character password. When he finished, the voice chimed again: "Now for voice recognition. Please say any keyword or phrase. This will serve as your startup key." 

Any phrase? His mind went blank, so he blurted out the dumbest thing he could think of: "Open sesame." 

"Voice recorded. To account for potential voice distortion, please place your palm on the touchscreen for a palm print scan." 

Chen Xu groaned—his sixteen-digit password felt like overkill now. He pressed his hand to the screen, and a white light swept across it like a printer, projecting his palm print onto the display. 

"Palm print scan complete. From now on, any two of the following—password, palm print, or voice key—will unlock the device." 

This setup was insane—way too cool. But the real jaw-dropper came next: after the scan, a two-inch photo popped up on the left side of the screen. Chen Xu recognized the face instantly. Sure, the guy looked older—maybe in his thirties or forties—but the features, the vibe… it was him! 

"Name: Chen Xu. Male. Born April 6, 1987. ID Number: XXXXXXX. Please confirm." 

No freaking way. 

All his earlier shocks paled compared to this. This computer had his info? 

He barely registered hitting the confirm button. The palace lady vanished, replaced by a video. Just one guy on-screen—a man in his thirties, dressed sharp and formal. 

He looked… familiar. 

"Ha! Grandpa?" The man laughed into the camera. "It's your grandson, Xiao Fei! Well, when I'm recording this, you're already gone. It's 2086 now, and you kicked the bucket last year. Heh, sorry about that." 

Chen Xu stared at this carefree "grandson" on the screen, torn between laughing and crying. 

But there was good news: he'd lived to 2085. That meant a whopping 98 years—practically ancient! No wonder Xiao Fei was grinning like that. Past 80, a death's more of a celebration than a tragedy. Nearly hitting 100? That's straight-up wizard territory. 

"I found that note while sorting through your stuff," Xiao Fei went on. "Couldn't believe you made such a big deal out of it—stashing it in a top-security Swiss bank vault! I thought it was a treasure map or something. Talk about a letdown. But I didn't let you down, Grandpa. Our company finally cracked time travel tech, so I'm sending you this portable nano-computer—top-of-the-line, even in our time. No international laws on time machines yet, so I'm sneaking this through the gap. By tomorrow, once word gets out, they'll probably slap regulations on it, and no one'll dare pull a stunt like this again!" 

"I loaded this thing with everything I could cram in," he smirked. "Even the national census database—why your video popped up after the palm scan. Don't worry about it falling into the wrong hands, though. I'm not about to call just anybody 'Grandpa,' right?" 

Chen Xu grinned. This kid was definitely his grandson—the smug attitude was a dead ringer for his own. 

"But heads-up, Grandpa: first-time time travel's a wild ride. Experts say the electromagnetic chaos might fry some data. This video's encrypted with special tech, but the rest? Not so much. Could lose some stuff. Don't sweat it, though—the Magic Box has self-repairing bio-computing. Give it time, and it'll patch up most of what's lost." 

"That's all for now. The time machine's ready to roll. You've got a lot to figure out with this thing. Oh, one last thing—super important: I'm risking a lot sending this back, and it's all 'cause you spoiled me with big red envelopes when I was a kid. Keep it up, huh?" 

The video blinked out. Chen Xu sat there, stunned, staring at the screen for a long minute before muttering, "Little punk… I'll bury you in red envelopes someday!"