"Han Feng, please sign this document."
In a suite at a five-star hotel, Mu Xiaoxiao pushed an insurance contract in front of Han Feng, her fingers, painted with bright red nail polish, lightly touching the signature area. She looked exceptionally beautiful today; a red dress accentuated her snow-white skin, and a charming smile she had never seen before graced her lips.
"What is this?" Han Feng asked, flipping through the file in confusion, but Zhou Zihao grabbed his wrist.
"Why ask so many questions? Just sign it when Xiaoxiao tells you to." Zhou Zihao, dressed in a suit and tie, stood behind Mu Xiaoxiao, a mocking smile on his face that had given him nightmares back in high school.
A sudden chill ran through her. Zhou Zihao, the school bully from high school, Mu Xiaoxiao's childhood sweetheart. She hadn't seen him since graduation ten years ago. What was he doing here today?
"Xiaoxiao, this is..."
"Brother Feng," Mu Xiaoxiao suddenly grasped Han Feng's hand, her voice saccharine, "Didn't you say you were willing to do anything for me? Sign this, and we can be together forever."
Looking into her big, watery eyes, I picked up the pen almost unconsciously. Just as the pen tip was about to touch the paper, I caught a glimpse of small print in the corner of the document—"Accidental death insurance, beneficiary: Mu Xiaoxiao."
"This is... insurance?" Han Feng looked up abruptly and noticed a black suitcase in the corner of the suite, just big enough to fit one person.
Memories flooded back. The financial statements I'd stumbled upon on Mu Xiaoxiao's computer last week, those anomalies highlighted in red; the tax investigation her father's company was undergoing; and her unusual enthusiasm these past few days...
"You want to kill me." Han Feng's voice trembled, but he was unusually certain, "Because I discovered the Mu Group's financial fraud, right?"
Mu Xiaoxiao's smile froze on her face. Zhou Zihao clicked his tongue and pulled a silenced pistol from his suit pocket.
"I originally wanted to make your death easier," Zhou Zihao said, pulling the safety pin. "But you had to make it so humiliating."
Han Feng turned and ran, but tripped over the carpet. A chill ran down his back, followed by a burning pain. Han Feng lay on the ground and saw Mu Xiaoxiao walking towards him in high heels, her skirt brushing against his cheek.
"Actually, I hated you back in high school." She crouched down and whispered in Han Feng's ear, "Every time I made you run errands to buy milk tea, seeing you run back like a dog, Zihao and I would laugh for a long time."
His vision began to blur, and his last memory was the screeching sound of a metal suitcase zipper as Zhou Zihao dragged my body.
Han Feng's consciousness floated on the ceiling of the hotel suite, watching Zhou Zihao and the hotel staff stuff his body into the black suitcase. Mu Xiaoxiao stood to the side touching up her makeup, her bright red lipstick reflecting a chilling light in the mirror.
"Make it clean," she said to herself in the mirror, "like that reporter from last time."
Zhou Zihao grinned and patted his suitcase: "Don't worry, same old place."
After they left with their suitcases, Han Feng tried to follow, but found himself trapped in the room by an invisible force. So, it turns out there really is a soul after death, and hell is simply reliving the scene of one's own death.
On the third day, the door was opened again.
A young woman in a black trench coat stood in the doorway, her amber eyes filled with an unyielding iciness. The beauty mark at the corner of her left eye made Han Feng instantly recognize her—Liu Mengran!
They didn't have much interaction. Han Feng vaguely remembered that a transfer student joined their class in their senior year of high school. This transfer student was Liu Mengran. At that time, she was incredibly thin and barely spoke to the students around her. He only heard that after the college entrance examination, she was admitted to Kyoto University with excellent grades. Along with that came the news that Liu Mengran was the daughter of the Liu family in Kyoto, and that an accident had left her living away from home. Later, at their first class reunion, her stunning appearance left everyone stunned. It turned out that Liu Mengran was so beautiful and elegant. If she could be graded, Liu Mengran would definitely get a 98, while Mu Xiaoxiao would only barely pass.
How did she end up here?
Liu Mengran slowly walked into the room, her high heels making no sound on the carpet. She took out a miniature device from her pocket and scanned something in the room. When the device scanned the area near the bed, it emitted a piercing beeping sound.
Han Feng then noticed an almost invisible dark red stain on the carpet—his own blood.
Liu Mengran knelt before the stain, her slender fingers gently tracing the carpet fibers. Suddenly, a drop of water landed on the bloodstain, followed by a second, a third...
She was crying.
Her thin shoulders trembled violently from the silent, desperate sobs. She bit her lip until it bled, as if punishing herself for not being able to cry out loud.
"Han Feng..." she finally spoke, her voice hoarse and barely audible, "I'm late."
Han Feng stared at her in shock. We're complete strangers, why is she crying for me?
Liu Mengran pulled an envelope from her pocket, from which slipped several photos—a collection of pictures from her high school days. Some showed her running on the track, reading in the library, and even sleeping on her desk; without exception, everyone in the photos was Han Feng. Each photo was dated in the corner, the earliest being ten years ago.
"Ten years..." She stroked the smiling face in the photo, "I've been secretly watching you for ten years."
Han Feng's soul trembled violently. He realized that someone had been watching him from an unknown corner of the world.
Liu Mengran suddenly stood up and wiped away her tears. She took a laptop from her suitcase and connected it to the hotel network. The monitor screen quickly displayed footage—of Zhou Zihao and Mu Xiaoxiao talking in the hotel lobby!
"I've found you," she said softly, her voice as cold as ice.
Over the next month, Han Feng witnessed a meticulously planned revenge.
Liu Mengran first hacked into the system of Zhou Zihao's father's company and sent evidence of tax evasion to the tax bureau. A week later, Zhou's Real Estate declared bankruptcy, and Zhou Zihao's father committed suicide by jumping off a building.
Then she anonymously sent evidence of Mu Xiaoxiao's father's financial fraud to the China Securities Regulatory Commission. The Mu Group's stock price plummeted, and Mu Xiaoxiao went from a wealthy heiress to a pariah.
Finally, she sent the two an anonymous text message: "Want to know who reported you? Pearl Hotel, Room 1808."
On the day of her revenge, Liu Mengran wore a red dress, exactly the same one Mu Xiaoxiao wore on the day she harmed Han Feng. She planted miniature bombs in the four corners of the room, then sat quietly on the edge of the bed and waited.
When Mu Xiaoxiao and Zhou Zihao pushed open the door, Liu Mengran held up her tablet. The screen showed surveillance footage from the night Han Feng was murdered.
"Do you recognize him?" Liu Mengran's voice was as light as a feather, yet it instantly drained the color from both of their faces.
Mu Xiaoxiao staggered backward: "Who...who are you?"
"I am Han Feng's widow." Liu Mengran smiled, a breathtakingly beautiful smile. She pressed the detonator in her hand. "Go with him."
Amidst the deafening explosion, Han Feng saw Liu Mengran open her arms, as if to embrace something. The instant flames engulfed her, her lips moved, and it seemed she was saying, "This time, it's my turn to pursue you."
Han Feng's soul was pulled by a tremendous suction force, plunging into boundless darkness. In his final moments, I heard a cold, mechanical voice:
"Extreme obsession detected"
"System restarting"
"Rebirth process initiated"
"Han Feng! What are you daydreaming about?"
Han Feng suddenly opened his eyes, the piercing chirping of cicadas filling his ears. The blazing sunlight streamed through the classroom window onto the desk, and the math textbook open in front of him rustled in the wind.
Classroom of Grade 11 (3). Looking up at the scene before him, Han Feng was somewhat incredulous. He took out his phone and checked the date. It turned out to be September 1, 2014, the first day of school.
"I was actually reborn?" Before Han Feng could even react.
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