Day [X].
“When you want someone so badly the need hollows you out, yet you can’t have them. You’ll—” He watched her, calm as winter water.
“You’ll?” Her lips hooked up, a young fox’s grin, mischievous and pure.
“Live as him.”
—Bang!
...
...
Whoosh—
The second whoosh meant Ye Weibai had ended a long, lonely drift through the cosmos and slipped into a new [World].
Just like last time.
His five senses clicked in like puzzle pieces, rising from darkness. A broad unseen hand pulled him from wet shadow, peeling away the heavy fog wrapped around him.
First came touch—soft pressure under his thighs and hips, telling him he sat in a well‑worn armchair.
Next came sight—a dim incandescent bulb, flickering like a tired firefly. Indoors, then. And that light needed fixing.
A breeze brushed his face. Loose fringe flew wild. Rain and mud scented the air, earthy and sharp. So it was raining outside. And this messy hair? Maybe it needed a trim.
Last came hearing—
“Senior, senior! Hey, senior, don’t doze off!”
The voice carried a playful lilt, a kitten curling into his ear, sketching its owner as small and sweet.
Ye Weibai woke cleanly from the dark.
In his black irises, a girl’s face hovered, almost bumping his nose.
Big eyes blinked like wet stars. Long lashes trembled. A delicate nose scrunched. A cherry mouth pouted. Chestnut short hair brushed her shoulder, tied into a left‑leaning mini ponytail—sprightly and cute.
She leaned over the desk, waist tilted, scolding him with a bright bell‑voice. Her words sped fast but didn’t grate; they fit her small, slender frame.
In short—adorable.
“Hey! Senior! Even if you don’t care about this case, with such a cute junior in front of you, at least—mmph, mmph.”
Her words cut off as Ye Weibai, face weary, pressed her mouth and pushed her aside—easy and practiced, like muscle memory.
“Move. You’re blocking my sun.”
She stumbled three steps back, almost hitting the door handle. Shock widened her already large eyes, round as moons. “You pushed a pretty girl away by the mouth? Senior, no wonder you’re single!”
“Who said I’m not?”
He tossed it off, mind fogged. A headache throbbed like a swallow of hard liquor burning down.
He glanced around and let out a dry chuckle—not like, but exactly.
In the left chest pocket of his black, yellowed jacket sat a flat silver hip flask.
He pulled it out and studied himself in its mirror‑shine.
“Ah—”
He froze, then laughed under his breath.
In the reflection, he was thirty‑something, almost forty. Long, ragged fringe nearly veiled his eyes. Fine lines etched a face that spelled “tired” and “lazy.” Pale cracked lips. A dark beard left to grow, scruffy and uneven. Disheveled, unkempt, no question.
Yet the bone structure and those clear black‑and‑white eyes still hinted at Ye Weibai beneath.
He’d—he’d turned into an uncle. A booze‑loving uncle?
“Hey! Senior!” The girl sprang forward, reaching to snatch the flask. “This is an office!”
Ye Weibai let go. The flask slid neatly back into his pocket, dodging the kitten claws.
“Little Bell—” He called her by her nickname without thinking. His voice went lazy. “Keep those paws to yourself.”
“Hmm!”
Hands on her hips, she puffed her cheeks like steamed buns.
He stood, mouth skewing. “Little Bell—stay put here for a bit.”
“Where are you going? I’m coming too!”
At the door, he waved. “Bathroom. You coming with?”
“Uh… but…”
...
...
Outside the office, Ye Weibai finally knew where he was.
“Chief, getting some air?”
“Chief.”
“Chief, the files you wanted are in your office.”
“Chief, afternoon!”
He walked the corridor. Left and right, rows of cubicle booths. A dozen or so people in light blue uniforms. Far down, a white wall hung a crest—a fox curled, biting its own tail.
“Yo, Xiao Meng looks even cuter today. Got a boyfriend? Tell me when you do.”
“Shitou, don’t look so stiff in briefings. Try smiling.”
“Xiao Peng, you think covering your phone hides Onmyoji? Enjoy those unlucky ‘Africa’ drop rates.”
His body and scraps of memory moved him to banter back, lazy as a cat in sun. No one blinked; they were used to this “Chief.”
Bang.
He shut the bathroom door.
The mask slid off. He splashed his face with cold water and let out a long breath, like steam lifting from a winter river.
He stared at the uncle in the mirror and murmured, “A Detective Agency—this [World] looks modern. And I’m… something like a squad lead in the Agency.”
“Three points—First, I don’t remember the details.”
“Second, even if I don’t, once I touch related people or things, the memories surface. So this amnesia won’t wreck me.”
“Third, I—Bai Ye—” Ye Weibai, now named “Bai Ye,” called Captain Bai or Chief by his team, studied himself. “—am truly a tired, lazy man.”
Yes. In this [World], Bai Ye was very lazy. He hated work. He liked booze and binged dramas. If not for a nose for cases, and for that woman—Mia, founder of this Detective Agency—digging him up, he might’ve been jobless, a shut‑in at home.
“Afraid of hassle, loves drinking, won’t think… Everything but the first is not my style. Yet—” Ye Weibai gave a helpless smile, salt in the wind. “Entering this body means I inherit some of ‘Bai Ye’s’ temper.”
He dried his face and tugged at his mouth. His signature mild, shy smile had picked up slack and fatigue, stamped with an uncle’s look. He tried to fix it, failed, and let it be.
“Guess that’s this round’s [Misfortune].”
In his heart, he called to [Time]—silence, like a winter lake under ice.
“[Time]—you stood me up again.”
“So, two questions.”
“First, who’s the target this time? So far, I’ve met two girls. Little Bell’s real name is Mu Ling. She started as an intern here a week ago. That woman—Mia—forced her into my care. Fresh grad, though she looks middle school.”
“Second, Xiao Meng. My junior. Full name Fang Xiaomeng. Serious, blushes easy, shy. I tease her for it.”
“Neither of them carries the scent of [Misfortune]. So… are they not it?”
Ye Weibai weighed it in silence and held his judgment.
“Second, and crucial—How many resets do I get? Or rather, how many times can I die… this time?”
