“How come business at our internet café got worse after the college entrance exams ended? Where did all those students who used to shout about spending three whole days gaming after Gaokao go?”
The internet café owner looked out at the nearly empty hall and voiced his confusion.
There was the programmer who got laid off in mid-year, pretending to leave for work every day but actually spending the entire day at the café.
The local school bully from the high school next door—famous for being undefeated in fights—had promised to bring his gang and patronize the café. In reality, he just opened one computer and surrounded himself with his gang members.
There was also a food blogger supposedly reviewing internet cafés, with a camera in hand and a table full of food. Aside from a single cup of instant noodles, everything else was on the house, courtesy of the owner.
And finally, there was the high schooler curled up in the corner, treating the café like his bed. He’d slept there the entire night, motionless with his head on the desk, like a corpse.
Wait a minute—even that ruckus the bullies made playing pinball hadn’t woken the kid up.
The owner’s pudgy face suddenly went pale. He remembered a recent news story about a student who died suddenly after pulling all-nighters at an internet café.
He’d just taken over this place a few days ago—please don’t let it become a crime scene! The grand opening flower stands at the door hadn’t even been removed yet!
Clutching his pounding chest, he stammered toward the young front desk clerk, “Xiao Sheng, go check on that student in the corner. He…”
The night shift clerk had another hour before clocking out. Half-asleep, he yawned and walked toward the corner, “Got it, boss. I’ll tell him to top up his balance.”
The boss watched helplessly as the clerk walked straight over to the kid whose life or death was uncertain, the rest of his sentence squeezing out word by word:
“See… if he’s dead.”
“Hey, buddy. Wake up. You gonna keep using the computer? If you are, you need to pay up. We’re just a small business—we can’t afford this…”
When Qi Xu was shaken awake, his head was throbbing in pain.
A thin layer of sweat coated his forehead, and his bony hand bore several burn scars. His fingers were clenched so tightly that the tips turned white.
Just before death, his entire 28 years had flashed before his eyes—being beaten and kicked in Qijia Village by Qi Guohui, his arm used as an ashtray, fighting pigs for food when hungry, and hiding in the pigpen at night doing mock exams his teacher had brought from the city.
After the Gaokao, when Qi Guohui realized he wanted to leave home, he had the village elders tie him up and throw him into the woodshed.
Just when he thought he’d miss his chance to submit his college preferences, he was found and brought back by the Shen family.
He was the son of the prestigious Shen family in the capital. Years ago, Madam Shen gave birth prematurely while doing rural aid work. The woman who raised Qi Xu—knowing she didn’t have long to live—intentionally swapped two babies from vastly different backgrounds.
When Qi Guohui was caught, he swore he didn’t know anything about the baby swap, blaming everything on his late wife. Yet when the Shen family came to pick up Qi Xu, Qi Guohui looked eagerly at the Porsche and cheerfully asked: “Where’s my son?”
After returning to the Shen family, Qi Xu soared overnight—more pocket money than he could ever spend, a closet full of designer clothes he’d never seen before, and luxurious food he’d never tasted.
But the public’s opinions and malicious rumors slowly changed him. He was no longer the Qi Xu from Qijia Village who had once looked forward to the future.
Because of his upbringing in a lower class environment, people constantly compared him to Shen Zeyu—his manners, grades, social life, even his clothes.
—”Kids raised by their side really turn out better. He doesn’t even know how to use a knife and fork. How embarrassing.”
—”He’s the Madam and Sir’s real son, but he’s nothing like them. The young master plays the piano so beautifully.”
—”Better not have Qi Xu attend any future banquets. He just doesn’t fit in.”
The more Qi Xu tried to please his biological parents, the more they favored Shen Zeyu. He saw clearly where he stood in the Shen family and threw himself into climbing upward, believing that one day they’d see his worth.
Resentment and jealousy grew like thorn-covered vines in his heart, wrapping around his beating heart until it was torn and bleeding.
He worked tirelessly to prove himself—not inferior to Shen Zeyu, the true heir to the Shen family. But everything he did meant nothing in the face of favoritism. His dignity was trampled underfoot.
After a week of sleepless nights, Qi Xu finally completed a major project just in time for his father’s 55th birthday. He didn’t even change clothes, rushing from the office straight to the Shen estate.
The party hadn’t started yet when the servants told him his father was upstairs in the study. Holding the contract in hand, he practically ran up the stairs in joy.
“Dad, I can’t sign this share transfer document. It belongs to Qi Xu. I can’t take it.”
“Zeyu, I’m giving you the shares unconditionally. This has nothing to do with him. I’m the CEO of the Shen Group—he’s just a nominal vice president.”
“Zeyu, I silently allowed your brother that title. Qi Xu’s ambition is too great, while you’re kind and thoughtful. If your mom and I pass away one day, I worry he won’t tolerate your presence. We have to pave a path for you now, to make sure you live a carefree life. Only then can we leave in peace.”
“Dad, don’t say that. I’ll sign it, okay? You and Mom are going to live long, healthy lives.”
Qi Xu stood outside the study, hearing the conversation inside between the so-called family—and to his own surprise, he wasn’t even angry.
In fact, as he listened, a laugh escaped his lips.
The past 28 years of his life had been nothing short of ridiculous. More ridiculous than a dancing clown.
Qi Xu turned and left without hesitation. He’d made up his mind: he would hand in his resignation and leave the Shen family behind to live a life that truly belonged to him.
But as he descended the stairs, heart palpitations from sleepless nights caused him to misstep. He tumbled down the staircase, head slamming hard against the wall, rolling all the way to the bottom. Blood blurred his vision.
Looking up at the ornate crystal chandelier above him—each carefully cut crystal representing a member of the Shen family—he realized he was nothing but a speck of dust on the surface, too insignificant to matter.
All it took was a soft breeze, and he’d be gone.
Qi Xu let his eyes slowly close, his heart finally deadened.
So tired.
At last, he could rest.
His shoulder was being shaken persistently, and a voice grew increasingly impatient by his ear.
“Hey, kid, what’s your deal? Just gonna freeload like this? I’ve heard of people skipping out on meals, but skipping out on computer time? What’s your name—I’m putting you on a blacklist.”
“Xiao Sheng, stop shaking him…” The internet café owner tried to hold him back. “Don’t be disrespectful to the dead. Go check if he’s still breathing.”
Xiao Sheng was still confused. “Check what? He’s not dead.”
“You shook him and he didn’t respond. He’s probably dead.”
Sleepiness vanished from Xiao Sheng in an instant. His hands trembled faster than his W-A-D reflexes. He hadn’t even touched the student’s face yet when the kid suddenly jerked upright in a weird, stiff posture, muttering something under his breath.
He was alive.
But looked like a zombie.
“AAAAAAAH—!”
Two screams echoed across the internet café, startling the programmer playing League of Legends so badly he panicked and pressed Flash, blinking into the enemy team and instantly feeding a kill—his teammates exploded in chat.
The school bully playing pinball missed the button entirely. The ball dropped straight through. His gang laughed.
He punched one of them in the head.
The food blogger, startled, flung his cup noodles straight onto his camera lens.
Qi Xu thought he’d broken his neck in the fall. To survive that… man, his luck really was twisted.
He moved his neck slightly to the left—sharp pain shot through. He cursed under his breath.
“Hey, kid?”
“Comrade?”
“…Ghost?”
Rotating his body toward the voices with his head as the pivot, Qi Xu saw two men—one fat, one thin.
No white coats—so not doctors.
Xiao Sheng nervously extended a finger to feel under Qi Xu’s nose.
A warm breath.
“He’s alive!” he shouted.
He and the café owner collapsed into each other’s arms, laughing and crying at the same time.
Qi Xu stared at everything in front of him in disbelief. The walls were tiled in gaudy black-and-white checkerboard, the floor a fake cement style that screamed “battle-worn aesthetic.” It was the exact kind of over-the-top internet café décor that was all the rage ten years ago.
He tried moving his stiff neck again. The sharp pain confirmed this wasn’t a dream—it was real.
Bluebird Internet Café.
This was the very first internet café he’d ever been to after being brought from Qijia Village to the capital. He remembered it vividly—it was right next to Shen Zeyu’s high school.
Back then, the dazzle of the capital had overwhelmed him, and that prestigious high school had completely blown his mind.
Caught up in impulse, he’d bought a secondhand school uniform and pretended to be a student there—desperate to fill the void in his own education. Then he came here, to this café, and logged onto the high school’s message board just to search for any gossip about Shen Zeyu.
It was there he first realized just how popular Shen Zeyu really was—nearly a thousand posts were love confessions: how elegant he was, how brilliant his grades were.
He and Xie Huai, the only son of the Xie family, were known as the “Twin Blades of Hai High.” First and second in the grade, rivals, childhood friends.
“Hey, are you alright?” Xiao Sheng asked with concern.
Qi Xu exhaled a heavy breath, his head still spinning, and slumped into the chair.
“I’m fine. How much do I owe you?”
“You used up the 5 yuan you paid earlier. Counting overnight charges, it’s 15 total.”
Qi Xu fished out a crumpled wad of bills from his pocket.
It was money he’d secretly earned by doing odd jobs in villages outside Qijia. One month got him 20 yuan.
And just one trip to the internet café had burned through it.
At 28, Qi Xu had forgotten what 18-year-old Qi Xu had on his mind.
After paying, Xiao Sheng said,
“You’ve got 15 minutes left—enough to play a bit more if you want.”
Once they walked away, Qi Xu sat there silently, trying to process everything.
It still felt unreal—he had fallen down a staircase and somehow landed back at age 18.
He’d just been brought back to the Shen family.
Everything was starting over.
His thoughts were a mess, caught in a loop, so deep in his head he was completely unaware of the outside world.
Suddenly, someone shouted from the entrance:
“Hai High students! The Bald Eagle’s coming—run!”
The “Bald Eagle” was the nickname for Hai High’s head disciplinarian.
He had a habit of showing up at all the worst places: the campus woods, perimeter walls, the koi pond… and of course, internet cafés.
Upon hearing this, the school bully panicked and bolted for the back door with his crew, shouting:
“Thanks for the warning, big bro! Today’s favor—I’ll owe you one forever!”
A guy with bleached white hair and multiple ear piercings strolled in from the front, walking backwards with a cocky air.
“Ah Huai, since when did you become such a good Samaritan?”
Before he even appeared, his voice rolled through the room first—low and magnetic, with a lazy, worn-out drawl.
“Just ’cause you’re standing in the rain doesn’t mean you’ve gotta rip someone else’s umbrella.”
The white-haired boy said, “But you didn’t tell them the Bald Eagle’s waiting at the back door. Aren’t you basically sending those kids into the lion’s den?”
“I guess I left my brain behind after the college entrance exams. Slipped my mind for a second.”
A tall figure pushed aside the curtain with a distinct, bony hand. He was at least 6’1”, wearing a baseball cap low enough to hide his eyes. One hand in his pocket, a lazy, casual smirk tugging at the corner of his lips.
The white-haired boy casually walked up to the front desk to boot up a machine and called over his shoulder, “Private room, yeah? The main hall’s too—well, never mind, there’s barely anyone here anyway.”
Xie Huai’s gaze swept the room and landed on a kid sitting in the corner—no umbrella, clearly a student.
From the back door came the distant wails of students getting caught. Judging by the ruckus, the dean had made a good haul today. And with his usual thoroughness, he was definitely going to sweep through the place for stragglers.
Sure enough, one had slipped through the net.
Xie Huai didn’t respond to the private room question. Instead, he headed straight for the student in the corner.
“Hey, where are you going?” White Hair asked.
Without even turning around, Xie Huai said,
“Go ahead and boot up. I’m gonna hold an umbrella for the kid in the rain.”
White Hair muttered,
“You’ve never been this helpful before.”
Bang, bang.
The desk in front of Qi Xu was knocked on twice. He instinctively looked up.
Their eyes met—and for a brief moment, both of them froze.
Qi Xu took heavily after the Shen family couple. That phrase about “a child inheriting all their parents’ best traits” couldn’t have been more accurate here.
He had delicate, striking features and pale skin. His eyes were deep and clear like a still lake—eyes full of emotion. Clad in Hai High’s uniform, he looked every bit the innocent, model student.
Xie Huai’s gaze shifted slowly from Qi Xu’s face down to the school emblem on his chest—Hai High’s uniform.
Why haven’t I seen him at school before?
Qi Xu recognized the boy in front of him right away—this was the younger version of Xie Huai, Shen Zeyu’s childhood best friend.
After Qi Xu’s humiliating debut at his first-ever high-society banquet, he’d never attended another.
He only ran into Xie Huai a few fleeting times at school.
After graduation, Xie Huai went abroad for further studies. Shen Zeyu followed him there.
Two years later, Shen returned with a master’s degree, but Xie Huai stayed to pursue a PhD.
Qi Xu only met Xie Huai properly years later—at a company banquet, when Qi Xu had already become VP of the Shen Corporation.
They met as business partners.
That night, Shen Zeyu stuck to Xie Huai like glue.
When Qi Xu raised his glass for a toast, Shen Zeyu intercepted him, frowning and saying with mock irritation,
“Didn’t you promise me you’d stop drinking? You’re breaking your word again.”
Then he grabbed Xie Huai’s glass and set it aside, pulling him away.
Xie Huai didn’t resist—just cast Qi Xu a slightly apologetic look before leaving.
Qi Xu drained the wine in one gulp. His empty stomach burned like fire.
He remembered—Xie Huai hadn’t shown up at the internet café last time.
Xie Huai noticed the dazed look in his eyes and finally spoke up:
“Hey, freshman. The dean’s here. Why aren’t you running?”
He glanced at the computer screen, sighing.
“Don’t think watching the school’s forum will save you. Even if you’re watching study videos, it still counts as a violation.”
The noise from the back door grew louder—Bald Eagle was about to make his entrance.
But Qi Xu still didn’t move, like his soul had been sucked out.
Xie Huai looked into those round, cat-like eyes, and on impulse—grabbed Qi Xu’s wrist and dragged him toward the front door.
Just as the dean burst through the back door lecturing the group he’d caught, he saw two figures running full speed toward the exit.
He immediately recognized one of them and roared in rage:
“Xie Huai! Get back here! You can’t even behave after the exams? And now you’re corrupting the underclassmen too?!”
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