The two of them stumbled toward the school gates. Wang Zibo chattered nonstop, while Chen Hansheng barely responded, still grappling with the reality of Gangcheng seventeen years prior.
After graduating from university, Chen Hansheng had stayed in the provincial capital, Jianye, to build his career, believing his hometown's economy offered limited opportunities. Occasional visits home were rushed affairs—arriving and departing in a blur, with no time to observe how the town had changed.
Only in the quiet, hungover hours of dawn would vague stirrings of nostalgia well up from his chest, only to be drowned out by the demands of daily life by morning.
"What's the point of me being reborn?"he muttered bitterly to himself.
In 2019, he'd had money, status, a company, and employees—none of the stereotypical "reborn protagonist" hardships like cuckoldry, orphanhood, poverty, or starvation.
"F*ck, I didn'twantto be reborn!"
Chen Hansheng couldn't help cursing. Wang Zibo, mid-rant about Chen's drunken confession to Xiao Rongyu the night before, paused. "Hey, are you even listening?"
"Uh… yeah," Chen lied absentmindedly, patting his pockets. No wallet, no phone, no mobile payments. He sighed. "You got any cash? I need to grab something from the canteen."
"Water?" Wang Zibo guessed, understanding—hangovers left your mouth parched, especially in this heat.
"What'll you have? Jianlibao or Coke?" Wang offered to treat him.
"Just mineral water. And a pack of cigarettes."
Wang's eyes widened. "Since when do you smoke?!"
Chen's patience frayed.Why hadn't he noticed how annoying his childhood friend could be?He waved a hand. "Bad mood. Just need a puff."
Wang hesitated but eventually trudged off to buy them. The canteen was just outside Gangcheng No.1 High School's gates. Chen stared at the iron gate, thinking,This place holds three years of memories—over a thousand days.
Soon, Wang returned, holding out a pack. "Here, your Red Pagoda Mountains."
Chen couldn't help a smirk. He hadn't smoked these in ages. Skillfully ripping open the pack, he offered one to Wang. "You in?"
Wang wavered but decided to join his buddy.
Wang Zibo was still very much a student at heart, thin-skinned and inexperienced—nothing like Chen, who'd been hardened by society's trials. Their priorities were worlds apart.
Chen casually rolled up his pant legs to his knees, plopped onto the curb, and lit up, squinting thoughtfully at passing students. Wang, on the other hand, fumbled awkwardly, turning his head to hide the cigarette, taking quick drags, and exhaling smoke furtively like a heron with a fish.
Wang watched Chen smoke with envy. "Dude, you've got style."
Chen, a seasoned smoker, even tapped his ash rhythmically.
"Practice makes perfect," Chen drawled. Wang's admiration grew—Chen's casual arrogance was infuriating yet undeniably cool.
Before they finished, a group of cyclists approached. Wang hurriedly stubbed out his cigarette. "Toss yours!"
Chen nearly followed suit but paused. "Teachers?"
"Nah, just classmates," Wang clarified.
Chen relaxed. He respected teachers, but classmates?Who cares?They'd graduated. What could they do?
The students were probably here for admission letters, buzzing with excitement about university life. They stopped when they saw Chen and Wang.
Chen looked a wreck—hungover, disoriented, sprawled on the curb, cigarette dangling. If not for his 18-year-old face, he'd pass for a middle-aged slob.
Classmates gaped. Gangcheng No.1 was strict—even girls couldn't wear long hair. Smoking here was practically a declaration of rebellion.
"Are you all here for your admission letters?" Wang asked, trying to break the ice.
Silence. All eyes shifted to a girl in the center. She was stunning—a floral knee-length dress fluttering in the evening breeze, radiating youthful energy. At least 5'6", her face flushed from the heat, straight nose, rosy lips, pale jawline, and eyes sparkling beneath thick lashes. Silky hair cascaded over her shoulders.
As she parked her tangerine-colored bike and approached, Chen caught a whiff of delicate lily fragrance.
"Chen Hansheng, howdareyou smoke!" Her voice was musical but laced with irritation.
Chen had no clue who she was. He turned to Wang, who stared back blankly. Chen sighed. "Whoareyou?"
A collective gasp rose from the cyclists. The girls shook their heads in disbelief.So typical, they thought.Men move on fast.Last night's confession, rejected, and now he pretends not to know her?
"Hansheng, this isn't like you," another boy chimed in—tall, with a warm smile. "Smoking's not your style. Get over that heartbreak. Tomorrow's a new day. We're rooting for you."
The words sounded like comfort but carried a patronizing edge. Chen, a seasoned boss with a sharp tongue, bridled at such condescension, especially from a stranger. Though seated, he lifted his chin, met the boy's gaze steadily, and said coldly, "Andyouare…?"
A successful man exudes confidence—a mix of reckless charm and accumulated authority. This kid, still wet behind the ears, couldn't compare. Even in "swagger," he'd be left in the dust. One look, and the boy fumbled.
"You're disappointing," the boy muttered, turning to the girl. "Let's go. Forget him."
But the girl lingered, stepping closer. "If you want to pretend you don't know me, fine. But I made it clear last night—no relationships until after college."
"If you smoke again, I'll tell Auntie Liang." She tilted her chin defiantly.
Chen froze. Just reborn 18 years, he wasn't ready to face his parents like this. Plus, today was admission letter day. Students were already gathering.
He sighed and flicked the cigarette away.
The girl smiled triumphantly, fishing a mineral water bottle from her basket. "Wash your face. Then we'll get your letter."
"I've got my own," Chen said flatly, refusing.
"Typical," the boy sneered. "Playing hard to get after rejection. So cliché."
The girl ignored him, setting the water by Chen's feet despite his refusal. With a huff, she mounted her bike and pedaled into school