“So… you *liked* Classmate Bai?”

Her voice brushed his ear, warm and damp, laced with a faint, breathy tension.

Her delicate hand rested on his shoulder; her body trembled slightly.

She crossed her forearms tightly, careful to keep her chest from pressing fully against Chen Dao’s back.

“In the past. Yes.”

Chen Dao answered bluntly.

Who he’d liked before, whether he still did, how awkward it felt—none of it mattered. His mind was locked on self-improvement, not bickering with some nobody.

Without rebirth, you’d only stare at yourself online. With it? You measure yourself against everyone around you.

He truly thought his past self had been utterly foolish.

And his present self? Brilliant. Mighty.

Yet this “brilliant and mighty” Chen Dao shifted the girl on his back. His fingers dug into the fabric of her sweatpants, adjusting his grip on her thighs.

Honestly? He’d half-forgotten where his own home was.

Back in freshman year, the neighborhood underwent an urban renewal drive—roads widened, greenery planted on both sides. He’d tried visiting his high school teacher for old times’ sake and nearly got lost. The changes were *that* drastic.

After starting work, he never returned. Memories faded.

In high school, he’d come alone to Xinchi, living in a tiny house owned by a relative.

That relative suddenly struck rich and moved out.

But since Chen Dao got into Fourth High School, they left it to him.

No rent, but utilities were on him.

The Chen family practiced hands-off parenting: seven hundred yuan monthly allowance, zero contact.

Sadly, only 121 yuan of that remained—to last until the fifth of next month.

“Am I… causing you trouble?”

This was the most Xia Jiuli had ever spoken. So much that Chen Dao wondered if she was just another gossip-loving girl.

(Truth was, she was only asking to distract herself.)

She wore nothing underneath. Straddling his waist with legs spread flushed her face with shame. The friction was anything but comfortable.

And she couldn’t shake the suspicion he was *deliberately* touching her thigh.

Otherwise, why stand frozen at the intersection?

“Nonsense. Don’t overthink it. Just a ‘green tea’ girl.”

He glanced around, backpack swaying. Finally, he locked onto a direction—vaguely recalling a jianbing vendor along his old school route, one he’d treated Bai Qiaoqiao to before. He headed that way.

“‘Green tea’? I think *she* genuinely likes *you*. No regret?”

Xia Jiuli rarely mingled, but her dormmate’s gossip had taught her plenty.

Her whisper vibrated right against his ear. A tickle. He shivered.

“Regret? Prettier girls are *less* reliable. If one actually was? Pigs would fly!”

Chen Dao clicked his tongue, voice dripping with scorn for love’s hollow theater.

Dating? Pure time-waste. Being a simp? Pathetic. Reborn into life’s second playthrough—who’d waste energy on romance?

“Women only slow my study pace. Good for nothing else. Maybe even worse—”

“Huh????”

Xia Jiuli’s mind short-circuited. *Good for nothing? What’s “nothing”? “Worse”? Worse how?*

“But… you once said I was pretty. What was *that*?”

Flustered, her thoughts drifted to when they’d faked being a couple.

Chen Dao suddenly went silent. His eyes scanned the kapok trees lining the road. “This one’s climbable,” he muttered.

He alternated between judging tree-climbability and tracing memories home. Thirty minutes of wandering later, they entered a weathered residential compound. He carried her up five flights.

Gotta admit—this young body was tough.

(What? College students’ stamina? Shattered glass.)

Xia Jiuli’s breathing grew heavy on the stairs. Chen Dao didn’t know why, but her panting felt increasingly suggestive—warm, moist breath ghosting his neck.

When he set her down, she pressed her legs tight, head bowed. After unlocking the door, her first question: “Where’s the bathroom?”

While she dashed inside, Chen Dao searched the unchanged 60-square-meter two-bedroom apartment—still not *his* space, so he’d never rearranged a thing. He found only a soft, solid-color T-shirt and loose pants.

He wasn’t keeping her. Tomorrow at latest, he’d send her home.

“Chen Dao… thank you.”

Her voice came calmly from behind. Water droplets still glistened on her cheeks—cold splash aftermath.

Chen Dao nodded. “My bad. Didn’t realize you were in such a hurry. Sorry…”

“Eh?”

A flicker of surprise, then shy confusion crossed her icy face. *I wasn’t holding it in…*

“Change first. Then I’ll take you out—eat, buy proper clothes. Rest tonight. Tomorrow, station.”

He stepped out, hand closing the door. At the last sliver of gap, he turned back:

“Charger’s by the desk. Feel free to—”

—and froze.

The zipper had slipped. Fair skin flushed pink. Soft curves parted gently, a delicate hollow between them marked by a single mole. Lower, her cute vertical navel peeked into the air.

Her stunned expression rippled into blush. The *zip* of the zipper flying shut—and Chen Dao *bolted*.

One more second and his head would explode! His damn—*brain* would explode!

This teenage body, defying his thirty-year-old mind, threatened to knock him flat.