Chapter 1

On a winter night in 2023, the cold wind was like a knife dipped in ice water, cutting into Li Ming, who was huddled at the entrance of the alley.

He was in his thirties, with disheveled hair and sunken eyes. He was wrapped in an old cotton coat whose original color was no longer discernible, and clutched an empty liquor bottle tightly in his hand. His stomach was already empty, leaving only the burning pain of the alcohol, but this physical pain was nothing compared to the anguish in his heart.

Hours earlier, his small company, which he had run for over a decade, went bankrupt and was liquidated, leaving him with debts he could never repay in his lifetime. His phone screen shattered; the last message was from his wife, Li Ziqing: "Li Ming, let's get a divorce. I'm tired. The child will stay with me."

Not a single accusation was uttered, only an exhausted "I'm tired." This was more despairing than any curse.

Memories, like an out-of-control train, crashed against his already collapsing consciousness.

My father has late-stage lung cancer, and I can't afford targeted therapy. I can only watch helplessly as the once invincible man is worn down by the disease.

The mother worked tirelessly day and night, and not long after the father passed away, she suffered a sudden cerebral hemorrhage. Before she died, she held his hand and murmured, "My child...be well..."

Li Ziqing, the girl who married him against her family's wishes, went from a bright youth to a haggard middle age. She lived with him in a basement and ate only plain noodles for a month. The good life he promised was never fulfilled.

Those "friends" who called him brothers turned their backs on him when he was down on his luck. They wouldn't answer his calls or reply to his texts. Some even ran off with his last bit of money that saved his life.

"Heh...haha..." He made a meaningless hoarse sound, like a broken bellows. Tears mixed with the dirt on his face, almost freezing as soon as they fell.

"Dad...Mom...Ziqing...I'm so sorry..."

"If...if I could do it all over again..."

"I hate...I hate myself so much..."

Boundless regret and extreme cold, like cement, sealed him away bit by bit. Before his consciousness sank into darkness, he mustered his last strength to roar, but only a barely audible cry escaped his lips: "Start over! Let me start over!"

"Mingming! Mingming! Wake up, we're going to be late!"

A voice so familiar it made his soul tremble, filled with anxiety and deep concern, pierced through the endless darkness and cold.

Li Ming suddenly opened his eyes, and the glaring sunlight made him instinctively shield his eyes with his hand.

He was stunned.

What came into view was not the stark white ceiling of the hospital, nor the mottled paint on the walls of the rental house, but... an old mosquito net with blue dolphins printed on it, washed until it was a little faded, and a roof above that was covered with yellow stains from the rainy season.

The air was filled with the faint musty smell unique to old houses, mixed with the aroma of rice from breakfast and the smell of burning honeycomb briquettes.

He sat up abruptly, his heart pounding as if it would explode, and looked around.

The room was small but familiar. Beneath me was the creaking hard bed I'd slept on for over a decade. Faded, curled F4 posters adorned the walls. On the desk lay piles of textbooks and test papers, such as "Middle School Entrance Exam Preparation" and "Clever Solutions to Physics." A palm-sized electronic alarm clock with a green-glowing screen clearly displayed the date: March 15, 2006, 6:30 AM.

Next to it stood a countdown sign made of cardboard, with the words "95 days until the high school entrance exam" written on it in bright red calligraphy.

"This...this is..." Li Ming's voice was dry and hoarse, trembling with disbelief. He looked down at his hands—the skin was firm, the fingers slender, full of youthful vitality and paleness. These were not his hands, weathered and calloused, covered in scars!

"Mingming, what are you dawdling for! The porridge is almost cold!" Wang Xiuqin's voice came from outside the door again, carrying her usual impatience, yet it was incredibly vivid.

It's Mom! Her voice sounds like she's twenty years younger!

Li Ming practically tumbled off the bed, staggering to the enamel washbasin in the corner adorned with red peonies. The clear water in the basin rippled slightly, reflecting a face that was still somewhat childish and pale, yet incredibly familiar—it was exactly how he looked at sixteen!

"boom--!"

My brain felt as if it had been struck by a thunderbolt from the heavens, going completely blank, followed by a raging torrent of emotions.

Rebirth… I actually got reborn?! I'm back to three months before my high school entrance exam!

Overwhelmed by shock and the sheer joy of regaining what was lost, a wave of emotion washed over him, making him tremble uncontrollably. He pinched his thigh hard; the intense, real pain jolted his nerves, clearly telling him—this wasn't a dream! This wasn't a deathbed hallucination! It was real! He was back!

With a creak, the door was pushed open.

Wang Xiuqin, the mother, came in carrying a bowl of steaming white porridge, still wearing her faded apron with frayed edges. Seeing her son standing blankly in front of the washbasin, his hair a mess, she scolded, "What are you daydreaming about so early in the morning? Hurry up and wash your face and eat, or you'll be late for school."

Looking at his mother's young yet haggard but vibrant face with few wrinkles, and at her slightly hunched back from years of hard work, Li Ming felt a lump in his throat, and hot tears instantly welled up in his eyes and streamed down his face.

In his past life, his mother was like this, scrimping and saving for the family and for him, exhausting herself completely. Even in his most desperate and needy moments, she silently supported him until she fell ill, until… she passed away. This is the deepest, most untouchable pain in his heart.

"Mom..." His voice was choked with sobs, as if something was blocking his throat, and all the words he wanted to say were condensed into this one word.

When Wang Xiuqin saw her son with tears streaming down his face, she paused for a moment, then put down her bowl, walked over with concern, touched his forehead with the back of her hand, and then touched his face: "What's wrong? Did you have a nightmare? Are you scared? Or is something wrong?" Her palms were rough, calloused from years of hard work, but they were unusually warm.

Feeling this real touch and undisguised care, Li Ming could no longer hold back, and tears streamed down his face. He hugged his mother tightly, burying his face in her thin shoulders that had supported him like his entire world, his shoulders heaving violently like a child who had been lost for a long time and had finally returned home.

"Mom...I'm sorry...I'm sorry..." he repeated incoherently, as if trying to knead all the guilt, longing and pain from his past life into this embrace.

Wang Xiuqin was taken aback by her son's sudden action, then patted his back with a mixture of amusement and heartache: "Silly boy, did you really have a nightmare? You're so scared? Don't cry, you big boy, aren't you ashamed? It's okay, dreams are always the opposite of reality, okay? Hurry up, your dad is almost finished eating."

When his father was mentioned, Li Ming's body stiffened almost imperceptibly.

He took a deep breath, forcibly suppressing his turbulent emotions, released his mother, and hastily wiped away the tears and snot on his face with his sleeve, trying to force a smile that was even uglier than crying.

"It's nothing, Mom, I just... I just had a really scary dream." His voice was still a little hoarse. "I'll go wash my face now."

Walking into the cramped dining room, I saw my father, Li Jianhua, sitting on a low stool, slurping down a thin porridge with a dish of pickled vegetables and dried radish. His face was as gloomy and unpleasant as the overcast sky outside the window. On the worn-out wooden table were a few white steamed buns and a dish of pickled vegetables—this was their family's most ordinary, even somewhat meager, breakfast.

Seeing Li Ming come out, Li Jianhua raised his eyelids, glanced at him expressionlessly, and said in a muffled voice, "Dawdling, you have no sense of time at all. The high school entrance exam is coming up soon, and you're still so irresponsible."

If it were the young Li Ming from his previous life, hearing these accusatory words, he might have argued back, or secretly felt resentful, thinking that his father didn't understand him at all. But now, with the soul of a middle-aged man, Li Ming could hear the weight of life, the anxiety about the future, and the deep concern hidden beneath his father's clumsy expression in his seemingly impatient tone.

He knew that the state-owned factory where his father worked was doing worse and worse, and there were rumors of layoffs. He was extremely depressed and his drinking became increasingly severe. In his previous life, he had never truly understood the pressure behind this "silent mountain."

"Dad," Li Ming called out, his voice calm, even carrying a complex emotion he only understood after his family was destroyed in his previous life.

Li Jianhua seemed somewhat surprised that his son didn't retort as stubbornly as usual. He paused for a moment, holding his chopsticks, and simply hummed in response through his nose before continuing to drink his porridge.

Li Ming sat down silently and picked up a steamed bun. He looked at his parents' faces, which looked much older than their actual age due to years of hard work, and at this bare house with its mottled walls and almost no decent appliances. His heart felt as if it were being tightly gripped by an invisible hand, aching and painful, yet filled with an incomparably burning determination.

In his past life, he struggled with all his might for half his life, only to make his parents' later years a little easier, but he was unable to let them truly enjoy their old age and live out their days in peace.

But this life is different!

He's back! With a vague memory of the major trends of the next fifteen years, and with a heart tempered by reality, incredibly resilient and clear-headed! He knows exactly which industries will boom, which opportunities will be fleeting, and which people are trustworthy!

He took a big bite of the steamed bun, chewing as if he were chewing on all his past regrets and failures, and also as if he were savoring the taste and power of new life.

In his heart, facing this dilapidated yet warm old house, and his parents who were quietly eating and providing for him, he made the most resolute and solemn vow:

"Dad, Mom, in this life, I, Li Ming, swear that I will never let you suffer again! We will live a different life! I will let you live in a bright and spacious house, wear warm and comfortable new clothes, and I will make sure that your faces are always filled with proud and happy smiles, making you the envy of everyone!"

"I'm full." Li Ming finished the warm porridge in his bowl in a few gulps, grabbed the old, faded schoolbag next to him, and said, "Dad, Mom, I'm going to school."

He pushed open the creaking, peeling green wooden door. The still slightly cool morning air rushed in, but the golden sunlight was already eagerly bathing him in warmth and hope, gilding his entire body with a pale gold.

Behind me, I heard my mother's usual words of advice: "Be careful on the road, watch out for cars!"

The father remained silent, with only the soft sound of him drinking his porridge.

But Li Ming's steps were firmly and powerfully planted on solid ground, more so than ever before.

He stepped out of the dimly lit old house and into the bright and infinitely possible spring sunshine of March 2006, embarking on a life path that was destined to be completely different and magnificent.