Chapter One: Tan's Fish Head

When Wen Jiangxi opened his eyes, the exhaustion and lethargy of the past days were gone. He could feel every cell in his body leaping with joy—a sensation he hadn’t experienced upon waking in a long time. No matter what, regardless of whether he would feel this way again the next time he awoke, as long as he felt it now, as long as he felt it today, that was enough.

Wen Jiangxi broke into a laugh. At last, at last, he could approach today’s writing task in his best possible state.

“Wen Jiangxi, stand up and tell us—in what year did the Battle of Feishui happen?” The voice of a middle-aged man reached his ears, leaving him confused.

Battle? Wait, why is there someone else in my house? Jiangxi sat up and rubbed his eyes—and then he froze. This room was clearly much larger than his own. The space was filled with people, and the man who had spoken stood at the very front—blackboard, podium, desks. If this wasn’t a classroom, then Wen Jiangxi must have lost his mind.

But what shocked him even more was the teacher at the podium. He looked familiar—a broad, round head, a dark face, and as he spoke, a trace of white foam would sometimes appear at the corners of his mouth. Wasn’t this his middle school history teacher and grade director, Tan Yutou—Sir Tan himself? But Tan had become famous, had appeared on the national TV program Hundred Scholars Forum, and should now be well into his sixties. Why did he still look like a man in his forties?

The more Wen Jiangxi looked, the stranger it seemed. He turned his head, glancing around, and suddenly realized that the people surrounding him were all his middle school classmates—still children. Glancing down at his own arms and legs, he pinched himself hard. Pain—real, stinging pain.

Could it be? Could he have been reborn?

Wen Jiangxi was stunned, bewildered, but gradually an excited spark began to glow in his eyes.

Lin Zheng, just wait. Isn’t it all about reality? Now, reality is that I will be a hundred times stronger than you. Don’t you dare try to take Su Lai from me again!

As Wen Jiangxi shouted these words in his heart, he felt like a hero—a hero brimming with boldness and pride.

However, the heroic atmosphere he’d conjured was shattered in the next instant by Tan Yutou. Seeing Jiangxi’s dazed look, the teacher assumed he couldn’t answer the question. He clasped his hands behind his back in the manner of a seasoned scholar and said, “Wen Jiangxi! It’s bad enough your grades are poor, but you usually behave yourself. Yet today, you’re sleeping in class!”

Damn it, interrupting my grand rebirth declaration. Wen Jiangxi felt annoyed, but looked Tan Yutou straight in the eye, his face nonchalant. “So I fell asleep—no need to make such a fuss, is there?”

Faced with this middle school classroom, Wen Jiangxi had none of the shyness or timidity of his past self; yet, such a demeanor in a student was clearly overbearing.

Of course, this arrogance partly arose from his mindset, now far beyond this era. After each stage of life, looking back at the things once valued or pursued often seems childish—only the effort put in is worth cherishing.

“You?” Tan Yutou was more astonished than angry at Wen Jiangxi’s behavior. This student had always been especially well-behaved; Tan had even given him a model student award to boost his confidence. Yet the Wen Jiangxi before him seemed no different from a troublemaker.

He needed a warning. Tan Yutou raised his voice and barked, “You’ll stand for the rest of this class, and come to my office at noon after school!”

“Oh,” Wen Jiangxi nodded, already too preoccupied to care about the class. His mind was drifting far away again.

Seeing his placid expression, Tan Yutou assumed he’d reverted to his usual meekness and turned back to the textbook, launching into an impassioned account of Xie An’s resistance against Fu Jian during the Eastern Jin.

To surpass Lin Zheng and win back Su Lai, he had to take action. He wouldn’t meet Su Lai until university, so he needed to transform himself into both a prodigy and a wealthy man before then—start a company, run a business, publish novels…

Wen Jiangxi stood motionless, a mischievous grin occasionally flickering across his face. His initial rebirth plan was methodical, step by step, but soon devolved into daydreams, to the point where he nearly drooled. His desk mate, the class beauty and monitor Zhang Ya, first cast him a cold glance, then looked away in visible annoyance, as if sharing a desk with him was an embarrassment.

Zhang Ya was always top of the class; no boy could outdo her, and her lovely looks made her both the teachers’ favorite and the object of her classmates’ admiration. Perhaps it was these things that gave her such a lofty air. Wen Jiangxi recalled meeting Zhang Ya once more at their university graduation reunion—she too had moved to Modu City and become a TV host on the entertainment channel, cool and glamorous, frequently appearing on screen, the center of that gathering.

For now, however, with her schoolgirl ponytail, she was far from that seductive figure—yet her haughty bearing was already ingrained in her bones. This air frustrated and even angered the boys who liked her, and made some girls jealous and resentful, so she had few friends.

In Wen Jiangxi’s memory, though he and Zhang Ya sat together for three years, their communication was minimal. He didn’t particularly dislike the class beauty, but he did find her condescending gaze rather off-putting.

The shrill sound of the class bell suddenly rang out. Tan Yutou closed his textbook, reluctant to stop, and fell silent.

Inside and outside the classroom, chaos erupted at once. Some students stayed at their desks to read or study; others rushed out to relieve themselves; still others gathered on the open ground in front of the teaching building to continue the game they’d started during the previous break—straddle steps.

Wen Jiangxi had once been a master of that game, but right now, he had no interest in playing. He was frustrated that the damned bell had interrupted his fantasies.

He shook out his numb legs and dropped into his seat, only to spring up as if sitting on nails. Looking around and not finding whom he sought, he turned urgently to ask, “Zhang Ya, where’s Gong Xiang?”

“What are you shouting about? Are you mad?” Zhang Ya frowned and replied coldly; she had never thought much of this poorly performing, quiet classmate. The only reason she tolerated sharing a desk with him for three years was his quietness—unlike other boys who were always trying to get close to her. Otherwise, she would have asked the class teacher to move her long ago.

Wen Jiangxi didn’t care about her tone. Raising his eyebrows, he quickly asked, “What’s today’s date? Has November 14, 1993, passed yet?”

“Are you insane?” Zhang Ya rolled her eyes and turned away, ignoring him.

But Wen Jiangxi was clearly anxious. He grabbed Zhang Ya’s shoulders and demanded, “What day is it today, exactly?”

No matter how proud, Zhang Ya was still a teenage girl. Startled by his sudden outburst, she froze, then replied instinctively, “Today is November 11, 1993…”

Three days left. Wen Jiangxi let out a long breath of relief. Gong Xiang was his best friend from middle school. He remembered clearly: on November 14, 1993, Gong Xiang had taken his Sega console to a friend’s house for a challenge and never returned home. The police records listed him as a missing person.

Now that he had been reborn, Wen Jiangxi would never let that happen again.