The autumn sun blazed overhead—warm to some, scorching to others, and still cold to a few.

For construction workers, summer’s end meant little relief. Beneath the autumn blaze, the heat remained unbearable.

Jin Jiahui wore a soaked short-sleeved shirt, straining to push a wheelbarrow piled high with bricks. The construction site wasn’t flat; slopes and scattered rubble blocked the way. Even with wheels, every inch demanded effort.

*Huff… ugh…*

Gritting his teeth, Jin shoved the cart forward. A hundred meters felt endless. Only when he finally reached his destination could he catch his breath. Then came the next task: unloading bricks two at a time, stacking them neatly, before hauling another load.

The sun relentlessly drained his body. His large water bottle stood empty. When he lifted it again, only a few clear drops remained.

Jin Jiahui had been Autumn Ease’s high school friend—the very person Feng Yulan had asked about. To Autumn Ease and Feng Yulan, Jin existed as two different people, as if split between two stories.

Autumn Ease’s clearest memory was Jin’s background: born into a martial arts family, a master-level fighter in clan tournaments. Many relatives who shunned martial arts turned to business. Not filthy rich, but comfortably well-off. Never the type to lay bricks on a construction site.

Yet here he was—the other Jin from memory.

All brawn but no courage to fight. The first to flee when trouble struck. Dropped out after high school.

Classmates never knew where he vanished. Now they knew: the construction site.

Wages weren’t low, but every cent was hard-earned sweat. With a shady boss, year-end pay was never guaranteed.

Jin shuffled to a large iron barrel nearby—a small perk for workers. Filled daily with barley tea, it was a lifeline when personal water ran out. He refilled his bottle completely, then gulped the muddy-yellow liquid. It streamed down his chin.

*Glug… glug…*

At this intensity, even speech was a luxury. Every spare ounce of strength went to drinking.

Sated, he sat in the shade, gazing at the distant azure sky. Dust hung thick in the air—whether from the sky or the site, he couldn’t tell. The heavens looked hazy.

A wave of confusion washed over him.

“Who… am I really?” he murmured, lying back on the concrete. “This me, that me, the past me… another me… Why do I have two sets of memories? Where did that other life come from?”

He pulled out his phone, scrolling slowly through contacts.

His high school group chat held dozens of names. Most profile pictures were grayscale.

Adults probably switched to WeChat.

Truth was, Jin hadn’t contacted any classmates in years.

Years of migrant labor. With only a high school diploma and poor grades, he’d done nothing but backbreaking jobs. Hard work yielded little money.

Names in his contacts had turned from familiar faces to strangers. Some required mental digging to recall their roles in his school days.

Rarely used, his QQ app flashed an update warning. Jin dismissed it and skimmed messages.

Nearly all were ads, scams, or spam emails.

Though just a virtual account, it felt… moldy.

After clearing the clutter, he almost closed the app—then spotted a new message. Buried under spam, it had gone unnoticed.

*Feng Yulan.*

His chest tightened at the name.

The other memory surged, flooding him with past events.

Events that never happened in this reality.

*«Old Jin, long time no see. How are you? Where are you working now?»*

*«What do you want?»* Jin replied, avoiding the question.

Her avatar glowed online—but no reply came.

Jin gave a self-deprecating chuckle. Even he didn’t know why he mocked himself.

His mood tangled like knotted rope.

He stuffed the cracked phone back into his pocket and returned to work.

But one question haunted him, clinging to his heart:

*Which one is the real me?*

…

Beneath the same blazing sun, others felt different warmth.

Ten Rain sat on the balcony, unmoved by the heat. Autumn’s chill wind pierced her bones.

Too many upheavals left her thoughts scattered.

Whenever she tried untangling them, a headache struck—as if some force blocked her mind.

A door opened inside. Wan Jianlei was home from work.

“Ten Rain? I’m back!” His voice bubbled with joy. For a bachelor, housing a beautiful girl felt like protagonist-tier luck!

Even Autumn Ease, the *actual* protagonist, didn’t have this yet.

Finding a girl versus *becoming* one—totally different concepts.

“What’s got you so happy?” Ten Rain tilted her head, smiling. Her upturned phoenix eyes and teardrop mole radiated classical Eastern beauty.

“Ah… uh…” Wan Jianlei froze, mesmerized. He snapped back, scratching his head awkwardly. “Nothing much! Saw discounted cake on my way home—bought you some. Also… your Taobao clothes arrived. Wanna try them on?”

“Mm.”

Wan Jianlei eagerly unpacked the bags, laying outfits before her.

“Why all dresses?” Ten Rain frowned slightly.

“Dresses are prettier!”

“But it’s cold.”

“No problem! I asked my colleagues—I got thermal tights. Super comfy!”

“You’re… something else.” Ten Rain smirked. The boyish gesture looked oddly cute on her.

Most clothes fit. Not Wan Jianlei’s skill—Ten Rain’s balanced figure suited standard sizes. A few items ran large.

Wan Jianlei’s jaw dropped. Drool pooled on the floor.

Ten Rain hadn’t bothered hiding while changing. He’d meant to look away, but instinct pinned his gaze.

Even with undergarments on… watching live was nothing like videos.

Her figure—neither petite nor busty—was perfectly proportioned. Well… except the chest was a bit flat.

*But classical Eastern beauties are often flat-chested…*

*Flat is justice!*

“You’re… bleeding.” Ten Rain glanced back calmly while adjusting a sleeve.

“Huh? What?” Wan Jianlei wiped his nose. Wet. Red.

Panicked, he dashed to the living room, stuffing cotton balls into his nostrils.

*Must be the American ginseng supplements…* He refused to believe real girls could make him nosebleed—that was just anime exaggeration!

Returning to the room, he found Ten Rain already dressed.

Sadly, she’d chosen one of the rare pants outfits.

*Why did I even buy pants…?*

No more white thighs. Such a waste.

The casual tracksuit resembled high school uniforms—but with sleeker lines and a fitted cut.

Seeing Ten Rain in it, Wan Jianlei felt thrust back to adolescence. That pure, bittersweet era.

He’d always thought high school was life’s sweet spot: too mature for childish middle school, not yet jaded like college.

Memories of his class’s flower drifted into his mind.

The girl every boy dreamed of. Even Wan Jianlei, who rarely spoke to her, saw her in dreams sometimes.

Pity she was married now.

Many classmates had tied the knot. At twenty-five or twenty-six, nearing thirty, bachelors like Autumn Ease, Wan Jianlei, and Guan Peng were rare.

“Daydreaming again? Eyes about to pop out. Like an id—ah, a moron.”

“Heh…” Wan Jianlei grinned stupidly. Being called a moron by a pretty girl wasn’t so bad…

Such was a world ruled by looks.