Matter is the vessel of spirit; the body, naturally, carries the soul. To put it circularly: the soul shapes the body, and the body echoes back upon the soul. Lu Li couldn’t tell—had he truly returned to sixteen, or had his sixteen-year-old self inherited memories from the future? He felt more passionate, more direct, more decisive than his former self. This was the fiery spirit of youth—a rare spark meant to fade beneath society’s grinding weight. Yet he didn’t dislike this change.

Back in their low-rent apartment, Zou Yameng served a simple dinner: scrambled eggs with tomatoes, stir-fried pork, braised eggplant. They sat quietly around the small wooden table, eating.

Lu Li loved Sister Yameng’s cooking—homely, warm, serene. His fondest teenage memory: sitting indoors during a gentle pitter-patter of rain, savoring her sweet and sour pork, always preferring it a little tangier. After her suicide in his previous life, he never tasted it again.

Lost in thought, his chopsticks lightly clinked against hers. Their eyes met. Zou Yameng sensed something different in Lu Li today—more confidence, yet a faint unease stirred in her. Time to step into her role as the responsible older sister.

“No dating in middle school,” she finally blurted after a long pause.

“Huh?”

“You’re still too young,” she forced herself to meet his gaze. “Don’t say things like that to girls casually, got it? Boys need self-respect too. Don’t be like those scumbags sweet-talking girls nonstop. Understand?”

Those words were straight from Lu Li’s heart. He froze a moment, then gave a slight nod. He’d always listened to Zou Yameng. Sister Yameng respected him deeply; since high school, she rarely used a lecturing tone. Had his behavior made her feel insecure?

Lu Li washed the dishes. He could cook too. As a child, his government-assigned guardian—a petty aunt pocketing welfare funds—rarely cared for him. Little Lu Li learned alongside Zou Yameng, fumbling with pots and pans. Once, hot oil splattered, leaving a blistered bump on his hand.

He remembered Zou Yameng, calm beyond her years, guiding him through unfamiliar streets, comforting him while asking directions until they reached the clinic. Later, she quietly announced she’d cook from then on. Only then did he realize why she wore long sleeves even in summer heat.

After dinner, Zou Yameng retreated to her room next door. She used to linger in his space, but after noticing the shy, flustered—and strangely intense—glance middle-school Lu Li gave her in a tank top, she stopped.

Lu Li napped briefly, then headed to his part-time bubble tea job. The kind shop owner handed him an extra 500 yuan, urging him to focus on studies. Clutching the “huge sum” of 2,500 yuan, he hesitated.

He needed university. In the Divine Realm, all universities were private—tuition terrifyingly high. For a poor kid like him, only the state’s special program for targeted employment offered a path. But he hated those predetermined jobs. This money belonged in his secret savings.

Yet thinking of the class monitor’s words—and Sister Yameng—he drifted toward a phone store, almost without meaning to.

Zou Yameng used a battered secondhand phone, bought out of necessity from a wealthier classmate. Laggy, neglected, it often drove her mad.

Lu Li chose a previous-gen flagship for 2,399 yuan, asked for gift wrapping. As he turned, a familiar yet unexpected figure stood there: An Baili.

Expected—she lived nearby.

Unexpected—the “ugly duckling” he remembered had simply swept her bangs aside, undone her braids. Plain-faced, no makeup, yet stunning. Teenage An Baili was breathtakingly beautiful.

He’d always thought her kind, but two love-starved souls together meant only friction. And present-day Lu Li felt a flicker of fear—remembering how gently she’d once dragged him to die after his divorce decision.

His panic lasted a heartbeat. *She shouldn’t know me yet.* He scanned the aisle casually, gaze brushing past her, heart pounding: *Why does she look different? Why is she staring? Please, don’t look at me—pretend I’m invisible.*

Murphy’s Law struck. A suppressed smile played on An Baili’s lips as she approached, oblivious to his twitching eyebrow.

“Classmate, picking out a phone?” Her voice was sweet—but to Lu Li, the last sound he wanted.

“Uh… yeah.” He kept his reply vague, perfectly mimicking a shy teen.

She fell silent. Glancing sideways, he saw her staring—intently, familiarly. A chill ran through him. *Could she be reborn too? Why else here? Why dressed like this?*

Playing dumb was his specialty. He took the wrapped box, head down, and walked out. An Baili followed calmly. Without past-life memory, he’d never have noticed the tail.

Clumsy she often was, but in romance, An Baili had Holmes-like intuition. She’d “accidentally” appear during his chats with girls, “lose” his love letters. He’d once thought her helpful. Now he saw pathology.

He really didn’t want to be reborn with her.

Really didn’t want entanglement.

But Lu Li wasn’t helpless. Darting through alley after alley, he finally shook her. Certain now: An Baili was reborn. Silver lining? She didn’t know he was too.

*

Back home, he unlocked Sister Yameng’s door—keys exchanged long ago. They’d always been family. No proper guardians; since childhood, they lived, ate, slept together, inseparable. Neighborhood boys once teased them as “shy husband-wife,” earning Zou Yameng a ten-street chase.

“Sister, I have a gift for you.” Not the perfect timing—holidays, birthdays—but he couldn’t wait. She deserved it.

Zou Yameng hastily exited a variety show titled *A Wife’s Cultivation*, face flushed with innocent panic. Lu Li knew her two dreams: a national award, a devoted wife. Both shattered in his last life.

She’d whispered them only once—graduation day, tipsy, hugging him. He’d just started dating An Baili. Sister Yameng was the first to bless them.

“No expensive gifts,” she said, cheeks still pink.

Seeing the new phone, her first reaction wasn’t joy—but worry.

“Why buy me this?” She fussed like a little housewife. “How much? What money do you have? Keep it for school! You… you…”

Lu Li found himself fond of her nagging. Smiling, he sat beside her, blocking her retreat, voice soft and pitiful: “You don’t want my gift?”

“I… it’s not that.” Her tone instantly softened. “I’m happy. Touched. But I worry. Lizi, maybe you keep it.”

Silent, puppy-eyed stillness was his secret weapon. It always flustered her into compliance.

“I’ll use your old phone,” he hugged her. “I like using what Sister Yameng used. It feels like home.”

She pushed him away. “Are you dating someone?”

“Huh? No.”

“No? Sweet words pouring out, acting innocent.” She wasn’t fooled. “Secretly seeing someone?”

Lu Li realized he’d been too eager—overjoyed to see the bright, open Sister Yameng of the past. He sat straight, head bowed like a scolded child. Her reprimand died unspoken. She trusted him.

“No dating…” she amended gently, “Not without my approval. Understand?”

“Mm.”

Her expression softened. She pulled him close, her warmth pressing gently against him. “Okay, I love it. Thank you, Lu Li. Truly. Boss is generous, boss stays healthy~” Her playful words made him laugh. He rested his head on her shoulder, breathing in her scent—deep peace.

A strand of hair tickled his cheek. He shifted slightly.

Zou Yameng flushed crimson. “Don’t rub… What are you doing, you little pervert?”

*Huh?*

This time, he was genuinely innocent. Glancing down—he saw it. Thin tank top, no bra. Gray fabric outlined two subtle peaks, more pronounced than usual. He wasn’t naive anymore.

Yet she didn’t release him. Face burning, eyes slightly dazed.

“The new phone’s yours. I’ll keep the old one.” Stubborn. Lu Li sighed inwardly. *Why buy it if not for you?*

Mischievously, he hugged tighter. Fabric shifted. A soft, involuntary moan escaped her lips. Heat, scent, closeness tangled. He froze—*too far*.

That moan snapped her awake. She shoved him, flustered. “Hugging so tight—you’re hurting me!” A transparent excuse. Lu Li played dumb, nodding. “So… you’ll use the new phone?”

“Fine! I’m showering. Out!”

“But you showered this morning?”

“None of your business!”

After shooing him out, Zou Yameng sat on the bed, staring at the new phone. “Why be so suddenly sweet… It’s your fault.” She slipped off her shorts, blushing fiercely at the damp spot on her underwear. Wet. Sticky. Uncomfortable.

Her fingers reached out uncontrollably, and the image of her younger brother surfaced unbidden in her mind.

The very next second, she snapped back to her senses and slapped herself.

“What am I doing?”