Future Love Contract (GL) - Chapter 17

“There’s no rush—it’s not an urgent problem anyway. Let’s just get through the preliminary selection first,” Gresya said, although her words were calm, she still felt a pang of heartache.

What kind of experience could have caused Zhao Xinyun to suffer such severe memory loss?

But Zhao Xinyun herself didn’t think too deeply about it.

She knew her amnesia was likely connected to her time-traveling experience, so it probably wasn’t entirely due to Jiang Yongxi.

Time passed quickly, and soon it was the day of the preliminary selection.

The crowds and long queues commonly seen in the 21st century were no longer necessary in this era. On one hand, many processes could now be done remotely from home.

On the other hand, even if people needed to show up in person, they could book specific time slots online in advance. At most, only small groups would gather at any given time.

Zhao Xinyun and Gresya had scheduled the same time slot in advance and arrived early at the venue. But to their surprise, Jiang Yongxi was waiting outside. No wonder he hadn’t shown up for a while—he must’ve been brewing this plan all along, Zhao Xinyun thought.

She spotted him right away and quickly tugged on Gresya’s sleeve to signal her, then steered them in another direction, hoping to avoid him.

It wasn’t that she was afraid of him—she just didn’t want to deal with any trouble on such an important day. If something went wrong with the selection process, or if her mood was thrown off and affected her performance, it could hurt her chances.

But Jiang Yongxi had clearly come prepared. Like many others who had come to Venus to take a chance, he was a risk-taker.

And because the second base was still under development and relatively small, the number of applicants wasn’t huge.

With the time slots split into many segments, there weren’t large crowds outside the building for Zhao Xinyun to hide in. In the end, they couldn’t avoid him and ran straight into him.

“Xinyun, we meet again,” Jiang Yongxi greeted with a practiced smile. But to Zhao Xinyun, it was just a headache and a waste of precious time.

Before arriving, Gresya had specifically suggested coming half an hour early, just in case of unexpected delays, like vehicle malfunctions. But now, that buffer time was being wasted.

Zhao Xinyun raised her right hand. “Excuse me, sir, please step aside,” she said coldly, in the tone one might use with a stranger.

Jiang Yongxi followed behind them, chattering non-stop—most of it meaningless filler.

The main idea, however, was crystal clear: he was listing every danger and downside of interstellar exploration and urging her not to go.

Zhao Xinyun didn’t bother with a detailed response. “I’ve already made up my mind. You’re not going to change it.” Then she ignored him entirely and kept walking with Gresya.

Suddenly, she remembered something Jiang Yongxi had mentioned before: even when she was still on Earth, she had talked several times about wanting to explore outer space.

Combine that with the fact that many space enthusiasts had come to Venus to help build the colonies, it wasn’t surprising he’d figured out her likely destination after she disappeared.

Realizing this, she wasn’t as spooked anymore. He probably hadn’t tracked her here from Earth—he’d just made a reasonable guess.

Given how small the second base was, he likely spotted her on the street by chance one day. And if her memory hadn’t recovered yet at that point, she might not have even recognized him, especially without a closer look.

Then she thought of the recurring dream she’d been having recently.

It might have been triggered by that subconscious glimpse of Jiang Yongxi—even if she hadn’t consciously recognized him, it had stirred her memory. Daytime impressions turning into nighttime dreams—it all made sense.

But there was no use overthinking it now. The most important thing at the moment was the selection process.

She and Gresya entered the building together. Just before the entrance, Jiang Yongxi called out solemnly, “Xinyun, I hope you seriously consider my advice.”

His voice faded as soon as they crossed the entrance threshold—she realized they had reached the security checkpoint, where a laser beam marked the boundary: only applicants and staff were allowed beyond this point.

Staff motioned for them to verify their identities. In this era, physical ID cards were obsolete.

Fingerprint scanning had been used for everyday tasks for centuries; iris scans were highly advanced, and even rapid DNA verification was commonplace in high-security scenarios.

With all these convenient and reliable identification tools, paper IDs had long since become museum artifacts.

After a brief wait, the two were assigned to separate rooms for individual physical tests. Zhao Xinyun wasn’t worried—she was fit and exercised regularly. But she was a bit anxious about the psychological tests.

As a time traveler with partial amnesia, she feared something might give her away. Still, the process went smoothly, and at least from her perspective, nothing seemed off. She never saw Luo Peichen—she was probably stationed at the first base, while the second base had its own staff.

When she exited the building, she half-expected Jiang Yongxi to be waiting at the door—but thankfully, he was gone. Gresya had gone in before her and was already waiting outside.

“It was just a basic screening. Nothing to worry about,” Gresya said, patting her shoulder when she saw how nervous Zhao Xinyun looked.

“No, no, no,” Zhao Xinyun shook her head. “That’s not why I’m worried. I just thought of something serious!” Her voice was panicked, making Gresya’s expression turn serious too.

“What is it?” she asked.

“Like you said, the basic screening isn’t a big deal. But what about the later stages? What if Jiang Yongxi realizes he can’t talk me out of it and tries to bribe the judges or rig the results to get me disqualified? What do we do then?”

Gresya snorted. “No way. By the time we get to the second and final rounds, the judges are completely impartial. Do you have any idea how big of a deal this interstellar program is? Both the Starfleet Federation and Earth place enormous importance on it. The people overseeing it are top-level—there’s no way Jiang Yongxi could pull strings here. Honestly, if he had that kind of power, you probably wouldn’t even be on Venus right now.”

“What do you mean?”

“He could’ve tampered with your visa or blocked your transfer here altogether.”

Zhao Xinyun burst into laughter. Gresya’s words made sense, and she finally began to relax.

The results came out quickly. Both of them passed the preliminaries—which wasn’t really a surprise. Still, Gresya was delighted. “Come on, dinner’s on me tonight!”

Zhao Xinyun didn’t refuse. Ever since she started receiving her paycheck, she had insisted on splitting all expenses down the middle—rent, car electricity, daily necessities, everything. At first, Gresya objected, saying, “I was the one who suggested pretending to be a couple in the first place,” and therefore she should cover everything.

But after Jiang Yongxi showed up again, Zhao Xinyun had a solid counterargument: “Now that we’re both helping each other with this fake relationship, we’re basically housemates sharing the burden.”

Since she was so firm about it, Gresya stopped arguing. Still, she couldn’t help but quietly wonder—Is this really just a roommate arrangement? After everything we’ve been through, am I still just a co-tenant to her?

But Gresya wasn’t the type to dwell on things for long. The thought passed quickly, and her mood lifted again.

The two of them went out for all-you-can-eat hot pot and even ordered a few beers. They didn’t dare drink too much, though.

Even though driving wasn’t manual anymore and the “don’t drink and drive” rule from the 21st century didn’t quite apply, both of them getting drunk could still be risky—like tripping at the door, for instance. So Gresya only ordered two bottles of beer—one for each of them.

After dinner, they rode home together—no singing involved, just quiet contentment.

Soon, they received notice that the second round of selection would take place the following week.

There would be three stages in total, including the final assessment. And even getting through all three didn’t guarantee a seat on the spaceship—it only qualified them for training.

Only those who passed the training would officially join the mission.

Compared to Gresya’s quiet confidence, Zhao Xinyun still harbored some self-doubt.

As a time traveler, she couldn’t help worrying about unexpected issues. But she didn’t have time to dwell on it—another week flew by, and the second round arrived.

Gresya noticed her anxiety and did everything she could to encourage and cheer her on. Though the results weren’t dramatic, she didn’t give up—she kept it up all the way to the entrance.

The second round wasn’t all that different from the preliminary, just stricter and with more components. Fortunately, everything went smoothly again—no unexpected twists.

The final round, though—that was the one that mattered most. It was where the mysterious “classified content” Luo Peichen had mentioned would come into play.

And for Zhao Xinyun, it would be a truly extraordinary experience…

Although, honestly, nothing could top time travel in terms of weirdness.