Future Love Contract (GL) - Chapter 8

Back home, there wasn’t much for the two to do. In this era, household chores were virtually nonexistent—most were handled by machines. Gresya returned to her room, and after a moment’s thought, Zhao Xinyun also went back to hers and pulled out her tablet.

Now, readers might ask: wasn’t Zhao Xinyun broke when she came to Venus? How does she have a tablet? The explanation is simple: tablets six hundred years in the future are much cheaper than those in the 21st century and are considered basic household items, like refrigerators, televisions, or washing machines back then.

Zhao Xinyun turned off both the eye-tracking and voice input systems. As a half-time traveler, she still wasn’t used to eye-tracking input—it was limited by eyeball movement, slower than traditional typing, and not all that convenient. As for voice input, she avoided it because many of the base buildings had poor sound insulation. Designed with cost-saving and energy efficiency in mind due to potential future demolition, walls allowed sound to carry easily between rooms. A louder voice in one room could be heard clearly next door. Zhao Xinyun didn’t want to disturb Gresya—or let her overhear what she was saying.

She propped up the tablet on her desk, turned on the projected keyboard, and typed: “recover memory.” As someone from the past, she wasn’t used to the projected keyboard either—it lacked tactile feedback or that satisfying clack of keys. It felt strange.

Of course, Zhao Xinyun knew that trying to search for answers about amnesia related to time travel was probably a waste of effort. Still, with nothing better to do, she thought maybe the research could offer a new perspective. As expected, after skimming through more than ten pages, she found nothing useful.

She went back to the homepage and tried keywords like “how to recover lost memories,” “what to do if you have amnesia,” and “lost memory retrieval.” The results were all over the place—hospital FAQs, forum posts, emotional essays, random articles, game walkthroughs, medical updates, even mystery novel snippets. It was a bizarre mix.

Some answers said familiar people or objects might trigger memory. Others suggested that maybe she hadn’t lost her memory at all. Some advocated letting it be and going with the flow, while others recommended seeing a doctor. Unfortunately, almost none of this was helpful.

Zhao Xinyun bookmarked a few potentially useful pages, then, a bit disappointed, set the tablet aside and collapsed onto the bed, arms and legs sprawled. She tilted her head and closed her eyes, trying to rest.

She had considered seeing a doctor, but the medical facilities at the Venus Second Base were pretty basic and unlikely to detect any issues. That wasn’t her biggest concern though. What if, during the physical exam, the doctors discovered something unusual about her body and labeled her a superhuman—then sent her to some lab for testing? The idea frightened her. She scratched off “go to the doctor” from her mental list. As for the other suggestions, none applied to her situation. She was certain she’d lost a portion of her memory, and she was convinced that this memory loss was related to her time travel. She vowed to get it back someday.

Thinking about familiar people or items, Zhao Xinyun frowned, concentrating. She could vaguely picture someone—an image that drifted in her mind like a ghost. A familiar person. She was sure this person was connected to her lost memories. But how? Who were they? What was their connection? Who was it?! Her head started to ache. She gave up trying to remember and continued resting with her eyes closed. After a while, she slowly felt better, rubbed her eyes, and opened them again.

From the room next door, she could hear Gresya’s voice. She was on a call. Or more accurately, “phone call” was a fossil term—outdated, but it suited Zhao Xinyun as a time traveler. In this era, calls weren’t just audio but could simulate real physical interactions. The two people didn’t need to meet in person—they could “see” each other, even “shake hands” or “hug.”

Bored, Zhao Xinyun lay on her bed, listening. Though muffled by the wall and Gresya’s helmet, if she focused, she could make out the words. It seemed Gresya was talking to a friend, likely a woman based on her tone, but Zhao Xinyun couldn’t hear the other side.

The conversation was mundane—news about Mars, Earth politics, work complaints, daily life. Zhao Xinyun, still lying on the bed, nearly dozed off. Then she heard something that made her snap back to attention.

Gresya’s voice was cheerful as always. “By the way, guess what? I started seeing someone new! How about we plan a double date soon?”

There was a pause, presumably while the friend replied.

“Yeah, I haven’t tried a double date before—it sounds like fun.”

“Half off the second item? That’s nothing. I found a sale where the first was full price and the next three were half off! That’s practically encouraging double dates!” Then she added in a teasing tone, “But between you and me—and don’t you dare tell anyone—I only started dating someone for the discount.”

“Blockhead? Lazy? Nonsense! I’ve always been lazy! Can’t I just suddenly stop being lazy for once?”

“I don’t believe you! And if you laugh at me again, I’ll cut off your helium-3 supply! Don’t think I can’t!”

A few seconds of silence, then she laughed. “Right? Your partner would probably come after me for corrupting you. Honestly though, if anyone’s the bad influence, it’s definitely you!”

“Whatever! I’m not scared of you. Anyway, I need to go get dinner. Catch you later!”

Zhao Xinyun suddenly felt like she was in the middle of a cliché novel: a fake relationship turning real, the protagonist overhearing the truth, feeling heartbroken, then running away or planning revenge… But come on. If she really believed Gresya started dating her just for the sales promotion, that plot would fall under the category of “artificial melodrama”—totally forced, lacking the natural charm of a genuine twist. And why would she run away? To escape the burden of pretending to be in a relationship?

She sat up, rubbed her growling stomach, and started to get up—but then flopped back down. Suddenly, she had the perfect excuse to not move: Gresya had just said she was going to eat dinner. If Zhao Xinyun walked out now, it would look like she’d been eavesdropping. Even though Gresya had lived here long enough to know the walls were thin, and probably didn’t care if she overheard, Zhao Xinyun still felt awkward about reacting directly to something she’d accidentally heard. Besides, she was just too tired to get up.

“Cut off your helium-3 supply,” huh? Helium-3? What was that all about? The mystery around Gresya kept growing—but at least there were more clues now. Zhao Xinyun vaguely remembered hearing about helium-3 in high school—it was an isotope of helium and a potential energy source.

She grabbed her tablet again and typed in “helium-3.”

The screen quickly displayed results:

“Helium-3 is an isotope of helium. Its nucleus contains two protons and one neutron. It is a stable isotope with a relative abundance of 0.000137%. Helium-3 nuclear reactors produce no neutrons, meaning no radioactive waste. Thus, helium-3 is a clean energy source. But because of its scarcity on Earth, it cannot be widely used. However, the moon’s surface is rich in helium-3.”

There were numerous links, including one titled “A Brief History of Helium-3 Usage,” which Zhao Xinyun clicked out of curiosity.

“In the early 21st century, it was estimated that just 100 tons of helium-3 could meet the world’s annual energy needs. The moon was believed to have over a million tons. As technology advanced, lunar development projects began. With traditional energy sources depleting and causing environmental harm, demand for helium-3 skyrocketed. At the time, helium-3 was viewed as an endless energy source for the foreseeable future.”

“Decades later, with interstellar expeditions underway, helium-3 became standard fuel for many starships in the Starfleet Federation. Widespread use led to a renewed surge in demand, prompting companies to search for helium-3 on other planets.”

But what did this have to do with Gresya? Why was Zhao Xinyun going to all this effort to investigate? At most, it showed this was part of Gresya’s job… and maybe that she cared. Zhao Xinyun scoffed at herself. One line overheard, and she was already acting like a real girlfriend.

She yawned, finally got up, and stepped into the kitchen.

She did miss the clinking and clattering of pots and pans from 21st-century kitchens. These days, machines handled so much that the charm was gone—but it did save effort.

The two cooked dinner together, and as they sat down to eat, Gresya brought up the idea of a double date, just as expected.