Renascido em 2015: Começando o Ensino Médio como um Deus do Sexo Masculino

Zhou Ziyang, twenty-nine years old, woke up to find himself back in 2015.

That year, Zhou Ziyang had just turned eighteen and was a senior in Class One at the No. 1 County High School.

The summer that year was especially hot, the plane trees by the playground lush and verdant. Cicadas hid beneath the branches, crying tirelessly. The plastic track lay empty, but the heatwaves could be seen distorting the air.

Inside the classroom, students plastered completed math tests and English newspapers all over the windows, desperate for a bit of shade. Spirits were low; students sprawled over their desks, slumping this way and that. Yet the English teacher, microphone buzzing at her collar, remained diligent and poised, her "Class begin" delivered in crisp, precise tones.

Throughout the long morning, Zhou Ziyang drifted as though his spirit had wandered to some distant realm. Everything before him was achingly familiar, like a movie playing on repeat. He was present, yet felt like a spectator, not truly part of this world.

The homeroom teacher also taught Chinese. He was a middle-aged man with a square face and a commanding voice. Despite the heat, he wore a deep blue striped mandarin-collared shirt. Noticing Zhou Ziyang sitting impossibly straight, lost in thought, the teacher waved a hand before his eyes.

Zhou Ziyang didn’t respond, gazing vacantly at some indeterminate point. The rest of the class stifled their laughter. The homeroom teacher joined in, teasing that Zhou Ziyang must be traveling through some fantastical dreamscape.