“Zhou Muyan!~” The clear voice of a girl rang out from the narrow alley of the city village.

It was 2009. In the small county town, rows of hastily constructed buildings sprawled across the landscape, their crooked, low roofs huddled together in disorder. The narrow, winding alleys were like a maze, crisscrossing the town in a chaotic tangle.

The sky above was a brilliant shade of blue, cloudless and endless. Zhou Muyan, dressed in his summer school uniform, strolled lazily through one of these unrefined alleys, his shoulder bag slung over one shoulder. He yawned, the weariness of the early morning settling into his bones.

“Zhou Muyan, look at what I got! This is the Xianjian poster I bought yesterday! Look Muyan, Jing Tian and Xue Jian look so good together! Do you think they’re dating in real life?” Summer Xiaoxiao face flushed with excitement, grabbed his arm, practically bouncing with enthusiasm.

Zhou Muyan glanced at her, unimpressed. “Stop dreaming, he just got married last year.”

“Pfft! No way! He’s forty years-old and just got married? How could that be?” Summer Xiaoxiao burst into laughter at the thought, unable to comprehend how anyone could be forty and unmarried. She had almost forgotten her question about why Zhou Muyan thought Jing Tian would marry in the year, but before she could ask, she looked up to find Zhou Muyan already near the end of the alley.

Frustrated, she muttered under her breath. “You always walk so fast!”

Stepping out of the cramped alley and into the broader world beyond, the view opened up. The newly paved asphalt road was teeming with cars, and the trees lining the streets were lush and green. The sidewalk bustled with activity—elderly vendors pushing tricycles, selling pancakes or stuffed egg pancakes; young women with bleached hair and short skirts, their headphones draped over their necks, walking with an air of urban rebellion; students in matching uniforms, like Zhou Muyan, chatting in pairs or groups.

For Zhou Muyan, everything felt both *familiar and alien*. The scenery was as unchanged as his memory, but deep inside, he couldn’t help but feel a sense of profound displacement.

Was this—

could this really be

—a rebirth?

Was he truly reliving his youth?

He froze, heart racing, as the truth gradually settled in. Could it be?

“Zhou Muyan, why didn’t you wait for me?” Summer Xiaoxiao caught up with him, her tone slightly irritable. She tugged at the strap of her bag, shooting him a playful glare. With a small huff, she fell in line behind him.

Despite the years that had passed, Zhou Muyan still remembered the way to school. However, the strange feeling that nagged at him remained. He couldn’t help but feel a twinge of frustration. Was this really happening? Could the very idea of writing a rebirth novel be influencing his reality? Was this truly a reincarnation, and why—why was it happening now, before the college entrance exams?

This was… impossible.

“Yo! Summer, you and your boyfriend up so early to school?” A familiar voice interrupted his thoughts. A classmate riding a bicycle sped by, waving at them with a cheeky grin.

The world continued to swirl around him, unchanged yet inexplicably different.

Summer Xiaoxiao, enraged, chased a few steps after the cyclist, but the bike sped off in a blur, leaving her fuming in its wake. She muttered a few choice words under her breath before turning back, still seething. As she walked, she couldn’t resist scolding Zhou Muyan.

“Zhou Muyan! Look at your classmates! They’re all like little thugs!”

Zhou Muyan, unbothered, simply shrugged at her words. His gaze was calm, almost detached. “He was just joking. Why are you getting so worked up about it?”

“Because you clearly don’t care! It’s not your reputation being tarnished!” Summer Xiaoxiao huffed, her voice dripping with indignation.

Zhou Muyan found her reaction almost amusing. He chuckled under his breath, a small, disbelieving laugh escaping his lips.

“What’s so funny?” Summer Xiaoxiao demanded, her brows furrowing in confusion.

“What do you mean, ‘what’s so funny’?” Zhou Muyan raised an eyebrow, playing coy.

“You just laughed! What was that about?” she insisted, her voice sharp and accusing.

“Who? Me? No, I didn’t laugh,” he replied, shaking his head lightly.

“You did!” Summer Xiaoxiao declared with unshakable certainty, her eyes narrowing as she glared at him. “You definitely laughed!”

Zhou Muyan let out a quiet snort, the sound barely audible. He was thinking to himself, “This silly girl… After all these years, she hasn’t changed a single bit. Still so serious and stubborn. No wonder, in my past life, she couldn’t find herself a boyfriend even at the age of thirty.”

“You think it’s funny to ruin my reputation, don’t you?” Xiaoxiao suddenly asked, her voice hard with stubbornness.

“No,” Zhou Muyan replied flatly, though he could feel a familiar frustration bubbling inside.

“Yes, it is!” Xiaoxiao snapped, her eyes narrowing. “You were definitely laughing at me just then!”

Zhou Muyan didn’t have an answer. He could only sigh, the frustration mixing with an almost nostalgic amusement. Xiaoxiao clung to his arm for a long moment, as if hoping he’d admit something, but eventually, she seemed to think better of it. With a small, dismissive flick of her wrist, she let go and stepped back, her eyes gleaming with the fire of determination.

“Fine,” she said, voice sweet but full of childish defiance, “It doesn’t matter. You don’t like me, and I don’t like you either. You’re just a silly, clueless guy with no money, no charm, and a terrible sense of style. I’m into handsome, rich guys! Hmph!”

Zhou Muyan just stared, unfazed, as Xiaoxiao stomped off in a huff, her words hanging in the air like smoke.

“Does she really think I care?” he mused, completely uninterested in her flirtations.

At thirty, Zhou Muyan was long past being concerned with someone like Xiaoxiao. He knew her too well. She had a pride as sharp as a knife, and she liked to play the role of the tough one.

In their past lives, he’d listened to her ramble for over twenty years, and now, in this bizarre new life, she still had him trapped in her relentless chatter. It was exhausting.

Xiaoxiao, on the other hand, was becoming even more frustrated by his indifference. Her face flushed with anger, she threw her next words at him with cutting precision. “You’re hopeless! How could any girl like you? You don’t even know how to take care of yourself! You don’t even wash properly for a week! Your hair’s a mess, and you’re always wearing those stupid glasses—four-eyes! Who would ever like someone like you?”

Her words, sharp as daggers, stung with the weight of years of silent judgment, but they bounced off Zhou Muyan like rain against the stone. This wasn’t the first time she’d attacked him this way, and it certainly wouldn’t be the last.

Zhou Muyan walked down the road, his backpack slung carelessly over one shoulder. It was seven in the morning, and the roadside was lined with lush camphor trees, their thick canopies casting cool shadows on the pavement. The occasional shout from street vendors filled the air, adding life to the early morning bustle.

“Freshly steamed buns, come and get ‘em!”

“Hot sesame cakes, fresh out the oven!”

The lively calls echoed through the streets, mingling with the hurried steps of students rushing to school. Beside Zhou Muyan, Xiaoxiao was in full swing, her voice a non-stop torrent of words, her frustration practically palpable. She didn’t pause for a single breath, her words striking like rapid fire. Zhou Muyan, did nothing but absentmindedly scratch his ear, as if her words were nothing more than the wind rustling through the leaves.

For most people, Xiaoxiao’s words might have been a little too harsh, but for Zhou Muyan, who knew her well, it wasn’t anything unexpected. In fact, he almost felt she was holding back. He couldn’t help but think that her sharp words, though biting, were a sort of familiar song to his ears. Because the truth was, she wasn’t entirely wrong.

Back in high school, Zhou Muyan had been the kind of guy who would get lost in a crowd, invisible to everyone around him. He was the type of boy who never stood out—his hair was always a mess, a tangle of unkempt strands that he never bothered to tame. Bathing was something he only did because his family had to drag him to the bathroom, coaxing and pleading like he was a child. His clothes, no matter the season, were always the same worn-out school uniform. Occasionally, his mother would nag him to take better care of himself, to at least make an effort. But his response was always the same:

“What’s the point? I’m not dating anyone. Why waste the time?”

His mother could never argue with that, silenced by his indifference.

Back in those days, Zhou Muyan hadn’t thought about love or relationships at all. The impact of his parents’ divorce in his third year of middle school had left its mark. At that time, he couldn’t bring himself to care about anything other than getting through the day. As a result, he had become a ghost in the crowd, unnoticed, untouched by the gaze of the world around him.

Divorce wasn’t the hardest part—no.

It was the constant arguments that followed. His father, obsessed with climbing the corporate ladder, would snap, “Personal matters don’t belong in the workplace!” while his mother, seething with resentment, raged about his father’s affairs, accusing him of keeping a mistress. The house became a battlefield, filled with shouting and crashing noises, each argument a new blow to the already fractured family.

After the divorce, his mother seemed to crumble, her life unraveling as she clung desperately to Zhou Muyan. All her hopes and dreams were suddenly pinned on him. Every day, she forced him to study relentlessly, determined that he would get into a prestigious university like Hua Qing Yan University.

“Show that man what you’re made of!” she’d shout, her eyes burning with vengeful energy.

For three long years, Zhou Muyan woke up before dawn to memorize vocabulary words, and when the clock struck ten at night, after hours of grueling self-study, he’d return home to work through another set of practice exams.

“Yanyan, just a little longer. Once the college entrance exams are over, I won’t pressure you anymore!” she’d say, though there was a hint of desperation in her voice.

At that time, Zhou Muyan had no other thoughts in his mind except escape. He longed to flee this suffocating home, to go as far as possible, somewhere where the past couldn’t reach him.

It wasn’t until his senior year in college that Zhou Muyan had his first serious relationship. The woman was seven years older than him, a polished urban professional with sharp eyes and a cool demeanor. When she found out he had never dated in high school, her surprise was almost comical.

“You’ve never been in a relationship in high school?” she asked, her voice filled with disbelief.

“What’s there to date in high school? High school is for studying,” he replied bluntly, as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

She chuckled softly, amused by his earnestness, and playfully ruffled his hair. “What a cute little brother you are,” she teased, a mischievous smile curling at her lips.

To her, he was an innocent, naive boy, untainted by the chaos of the world—someone to be protected, and perhaps, in time, someone she could reshape.

It was that older woman who first introduced Zhou Muyan to the taste of a woman—the softness, the warmth, the intoxicating scent that lingered long after. More than that, she shaped him, molding him from a naive boy into a man. She taught him how to carry himself, how to choose his clothes, how to navigate the intricate dance of human interactions. From that moment on, Zhou Muyan’s transformation began in earnest.

With a prestigious degree and the advantage of his father’s extensive network, success came swiftly. His career soared, and women drifted in and out of his life like the changing seasons. Eighteen, nineteen-year-old girls—youthful, fresh-faced, full of admiration—he had been with them too.

No matter how many relationships he entered, an inexplicable emptiness gnawed at him. The more he loved, the lonelier he felt.

He recalled something that woman had once said, her voice playful yet laced with meaning:

“Falling in love as a student and falling in love as an adult—it’s not the same, you know~”

Not the same? What was the difference?

Lost in thought, Zhou Muyan turned a familiar corner. Before him stood his old high school—City No.1 High, the only four-star high school in this small city, with a proud twenty-year history. Two towering camphor trees flanked the entrance, their leaves rustling gently in the morning breeze. At the gate, a pot-bellied, middle-aged director barked orders at two security guards, urging students to hurry inside.

The moment students reached the entrance, their sluggish postures straightened like strings pulled taut. Those who had just been dragging their feet moments ago suddenly looked full of motivation.

Even Summer Xiaoxiao, who had been rambling non-stop, finally fell silent as they neared the school gates. But as she glanced at Zhou Muyan, still looking so indifferent, a spark of frustration flared in her eyes. She couldn’t resist one last jab—her voice filled with exaggerated disdain.

“No girl will ever like you!”

Before the words had even fully landed, a crisp bicycle bell rang through the air.

“Ting! Ting!”

A soft chime of a bicycle bell echoed through the morning air.

A girl glided past Zhou Muyan on a pastel pink Angel bicycle, the early spring breeze lifting strands of her silky black hair, carrying with it a delicate fragrance—sweet, fresh, intoxicating.

“Tang Wan!” Summer Xiaoxiao’s voice lit up with excitement as she called out the girl’s name.

Tang Wan turned her head, sunlight catching in her eyes as she flashed a bright, radiant smile.

It was seven in the morning, and the sun had just begun its slow ascent, its golden rays filtering through the gaps in the phoenix tree leaves. The soft light bathed the girl in an ethereal glow, accentuating the gentle arch of her brows and the crystalline clarity of her gaze. Her hair cascaded naturally over her shoulders, framing a face that exuded warmth—like a ripple across a serene lake, effortlessly soothing and tender.

At that moment, as Zhou Muyan’s eyes fell on her, fragments of his high school memories, long buried and forgotten, began to unravel—one thread at a time.

“Back in high school, there must have been a girl you liked, right?”

In his past life, that older woman—seven years his senior—had asked him that question over drinks, her fingers idly tracing the rim of a beer glass, a playful smirk dancing on her lips.

“No.”

“Really? Not even one?”

Faced with her teasing, knowing gaze, Zhou Muyan had fallen silent.