Chapter 6

Sunlight streamed through the classroom window, carrying the dry heat unique to summer, falling on Ran Nannan’s hair and casting a faint chestnut-gold shimmer.

She stared blankly at the podium, as her deskmate’s low complaint reached her ears:
“You really scared me just now. Looked like you’d stopped breathing, and kept muttering something about ‘the next life’… What’s wrong, didn’t sleep well last night?”

Ran Nannan slowly came back to herself. She blinked, then murmured hoarsely after a long pause,
“Maybe… the dream was too long.”

As she spoke, she instinctively lifted her arm and saw her fair, delicate wrist—long fingers without a trace of the purplish whip scars once etched across them. She brushed her fingertips over it lightly, and suddenly a wave of bitterness rose in her chest, her eyes nearly reddened.

From childhood to now, she had lived a whole decade in that dream. A dream so vivid, so long, it felt as though she had truly been there—having her hair combed, her brows painted, incense burned around her every day. Always eating just enough to feel seven-tenths full, every movement and smile drilled into her bones.

Then, she died in that dream, consumed by a raging fever.

And yet now, all the pain seemed locked away in another life, separated by a thin pane of glass. She couldn’t touch it—but she could still feel it.

Her deskmate looked at her dazed expression and grumbled, “Ugh, the college entrance exam is almost over. Only English left tomorrow—half a day more and we’re free!”

Ran Nannan blinked, then a faint light flickered in her eyes.
“…The college entrance exam?”

“Duh! Are you really this forgetful, or just pretending?” Her deskmate huffed. “The lunch bell already rang. If you don’t hurry, I’m heading to the cafeteria without you!”

As her deskmate stomped out of the classroom, Ran Nannan quietly let out a breath, fingers slowly curling against the edge of the desk.

The college entrance exam—

A phrase both unfamiliar and achingly familiar.

She remembered last night’s dream—how she wore a brocade gown woven with gold, carried in an ornate bridal sedan, the perfume so thick it made her dizzy. But when she woke, she was back in this classroom, wearing an ordinary short-sleeved school uniform, even with one shoe untied.

Lowering her head, she looked down at the uniform skirt. Her eyes prickled with heat. Raising her gaze again, she saw boys playing basketball on the court outside, their necks glistening with sweat under the sun.

How wonderful, she thought.

No more scented baths or measured waists. No more cold jeweled hairpins or bitter sandalwood oils. What existed here were cafeteria chicken drumsticks, the loud ringing of the lunchtime bell, the soft whispers of her deskmate during naps, the sunlight, the wind—nothing more than the simplest youth.

She quietly placed her hand over her chest, pressing gently.

The heartbeat beneath her palm was strong and real—no longer the fragile pulse kept alive by cold medicinal tonics.

That afternoon, when the English exam ended, the campus erupted into a roar. Students hugged, some shouted “It’s finally over!”, and a boy launched a bottle of water into the sky, the spray sparkling like a little burst of rain under the sun.

Ran Nannan slowly walked out of the exam room. The hot wind brushed against her face. She closed her eyes for a moment, letting the warmth settle on her skin.

“Nannan! We’re done with the exams!” Her deskmate pounced on her, almost knocking her backward. “Doesn’t it feel like we’ve come back to life?”

Ran Nannan paused, then smiled.

It was a smile that rose gently from deep within her eyes, soft as spring water.
“…Yeah, I’ve come back to life.”

She spoke lightly, but her tone carried a release only she could understand.

She truly had come back to life.

Her deskmate was quickly dragged off by others to take group photos, leaving Ran Nannan walking slowly toward the school gate alone. The street outside was already packed with cars waiting to pick up students. Red banners fluttered in the breeze, with words like “Top Scores Guaranteed” and “A Bright Future Ahead.”

She didn’t rush home. Instead, she followed the long road outside the school. The afternoon sun filtered through the sycamore leaves, casting a patchwork of warm shadows on the ground.

She stopped at a fruit stall, where the vendor was laying out peaches—plump and fuzzy, dewdrops clinging to their skin.

She stared at the peaches for a long time before suddenly asking, “Uncle, are these peaches… sweet?”

“Sweet as honey! First batch of the season. Want a couple?” the vendor grinned, wiping one clean with his rough hand.

Ran Nannan nodded softly. He quickly packed two into a bag and handed it to her. The coolness seeped into her fingertips at once.

“Thank you,” she said quietly.

Carrying the bag, she strolled back the way she came, feeling a quiet contentment rise inside her.

In that dream, she’d never once chosen what she wanted to eat. Meals were brought to her by a nanny who’d say, “Only eat seventy percent full—it keeps the waist slim.” And she’d nod, never daring to protest.

But now, she could walk down the street, pick a peach she liked, and laugh loudly with a friend after school.

So this is what the next life could be like—simple.

As evening fell, the streetlights came on, casting a soft orange glow that melted gently into the night.

Ran Nannan walked home slowly. At the entrance of her apartment complex, she saw the gatekeeper chatting with a few neighbors about the end of exams.

“Ah, our building is lucky this year. Old Zhang’s son, Xu Jie’s daughter—they all finished today. Look at those faces, glowing like sunshine.”

Ran Nannan smiled politely and nodded, slipping past them and into the elevator.

Back home, she placed the bag on the dining table and gently took out one peach. It had cooled in the evening breeze, and was slightly cold to the touch. She took a bite—the sweetness burst on her tongue, thick with the flavor of summer.

She closed her eyes, letting the taste bloom across her mouth. A soft smile tugged at the corners of her lips.

When she opened her eyes again, she saw her reflection in the narrow mirror on the wall—a girl with skin pale to near translucence, striking features, and a gaze that held a rare kind of calm. It was the kind of calm born only from having seen desolation and splendor alike—learned through silence.

Ran Nannan stared at herself for a long time before lifting her hand and gently touching the corner of her eye with her fingertip.

There were no tears there, but still, a faint redness lingered.

She thought, maybe this—this very moment—is what it means to be given a next life.