Monday, June 14, 2004.

I pulled out his old phone—the one he couldn’t take to school—and checked its calendar against the wall calendar. Then I circled this date in red ink.

The past me… let’s call him Yue Feather. The name still felt strange on my tongue.

Starting from this date, I pushed forward through time, untangling fragmented memories and writing them down.

But first—June 19th. Not some grand occasion. Just my birthday. After leaving my parents, every birthday felt hollow. My foster mother might buy a cake, but it was mere formality. The emotional coldness behind it hurt worse than being forgotten.

Maybe fate had a hand in this. I didn’t return as my past self. I became a new body—perhaps to ease his loneliness.

This time, I’d give him a real birthday. To stop him from locking his heart away. That path only breeds pain. People should stay open. Joy attracts good things.

That’s the lesson from my thirty-plus years.

Of course, making Yue Feather cheerful was crucial. Otherwise, my plans would fail. How could a clam like him ever win a girl’s heart? I didn’t expect girls to chase him.

I knew myself best, after all.

I jotted down key memories first. Then I dug deeper—recalling trivial high school moments, tiny details.

Mistakes to fix: like stopping Yue Feather from falling for that "goddess" who toyed with boys’ hearts.

Missed chances to reclaim. Why else come back in time?

My hair kept slipping over my forehead. After tucking it back repeatedly, I finally clipped it with a pen cap. Relief.

First step: get close to Zhan Qi. Build a friendship. Then invite Yue Feather along…

A plan took shape in my mind. The girl I refused to lose this time was Zhan Qi.

Zhan Qi wasn’t striking. Just… cute, in a plain way. Round face, freckles on her cheeks, a few pimples on her forehead. Utterly ordinary.

As someone who’d lived longer, I wouldn’t pick a girlfriend for my past self based on looks. "Good enough" was fine. What mattered was Zhan Qi’s gentle nature. Years later, I learned she’d married a man who barely loved her. Yet she stayed kind. Sometimes, my heart ached for her. I wanted to help—but couldn’t steal her away.

After all, she loved him deeply…

Now, I could crush that regret before it bloomed.

Back in high school, I’d been close to Zhan Qi. She’d even hinted at liking me. But blinded by that "goddess," I’d missed my chance.

Also—Zhan Qi wasn’t pretty in high school. But as puberty faded, she blossomed. Unlike girls who ruined their skin with makeup early, Zhan Qi had a natural grace. Not stunning, but quietly beautiful. Maybe it was her aura.

My thoughts drifted again. I shook my head, pulling focus. Every detail I recalled went into the notebook.

The breakfast on my desk had gone cold. By the time I remembered to eat, afternoon light filled the room. The buns were tough, but they filled my stomach. I wasn’t picky.

After gulping down the cold breakfast-lunch, I kept writing until dusk.

"Ahhh—" I stretched, then winced. A dull ache swelled in my chest—right at the peaks. Like an overfilled balloon straining to burst.

Not sharp pain. Just deeply uncomfortable.

It sapped my strength. Even standing felt impossible.

I slumped over the desk, tasting the bitter irony only girls knew. A wry smile tugged my lips.

"Still puberty, huh…" I gently rubbed my chest. The ache spiked. Waves of pressure crashed over me, brief pauses offering no real relief.

I didn’t know how long it’d last. Only that worse days loomed ahead.

*Such a hassle… being a girl.*

…

Yue Feather, as usual, was the last to leave school. He’d wanted to go home early—but the classroom keys were in his pocket. He had to wait until every student vanished.

By the time he stepped out, the campus was empty. Amber sunset spilled across the soccer field, stretching the goalposts’ shadows long and thin.

Yue Feather walked home alone.

His heart fluttered with unease.

Afraid to find an empty house again.

Afraid even her traces would disappear.

Afraid to face solitude once more…

Those accustomed to having nothing tread carefully, terrified of losing what little they have.

He paused outside a girls’ accessory shop near the school gate. Student-friendly prices. Hair ties and clips filled the displays.

He suddenly remembered wanting to buy hair ties for Silver Bell that morning.

Yue Feather lingered outside the shop. A boy’s forbidden territory. He slipped in, cheeks burning as the owner’s gaze landed on him—though she only smiled professionally.

"Need something?" The owner, stylish despite nearing forty, carried a faint perfume scent.

Yue Feather disliked perfume. Too artificial.

"Uh… hair ties? Do you have any?"

"Right here." She gestured.

"Oh…"

So many choices. He had no idea what Silver Bell liked. Simple? Cute? His hesitation stretched until he grabbed a cheap combo pack: five sky-blue hair ties and five clips for two yuan.

*Not expensive… when it’s for her.*

Satisfied, he tucked the pack away and walked into the sunset’s last glow.

Dinner was usually takeout. Between studies and chores, cooking meant stolen sleep.

At Shaxian Snacks, he ordered a takeout bowl of minced pork and eggplant over rice. Then, at the Gaozhuang steamed bun stall next door, he bought one bun for fifty cents. He ate it with water. *Dinner.*

"I ate plenty at lunch," he muttered to himself.

Yue Feather carried the four-yuan meal home carefully. He pushed open the slightly ajar door.

*She’s here.*

Relief flooded him. Then his heart hammered.

*She’s real. Not a dream. She’s really here.*

*Thank goodness…*

"I… got you takeout. Minced pork and eggplant over rice. Hope you like it."

"Thanks…" Silver Bell looked up, frowning slightly. She seemed unwell.

"What’s wrong?"

"Just… not feeling great." She pressed a hand to her chest.

"Your… chest hurts?"

"*Breasts*," Silver Bell corrected firmly.

"Ah—" Yue Feather’s tongue felt dry. His face burned crimson. "Sorry…"

"Why apologize?" She gave him a puzzled look, then took a slow, deep breath. Her shoulders relaxed. "Did you eat dinner?"

"I-I did."

"*Again*?" Silver Bell’s eyes narrowed. She seemed to suspect something. Yue Feather’s pulse jumped.

"Full? I’m not hungry. You can have some."

"N-no! I’m stuffed. Really full." He patted his flat stomach, trying—and failing—to force a burp. An awkward grin spread.

"Just get a bowl. We’ll share." Her tone brooked no argument.

"No, really! You eat. I’m full."

"…Fine." Silver Bell fell silent, eating quietly.