Chapter One: The Summer of Restarting Life

The summer cicadas screeched like a rusty saw, tearing at Li Yifei’s eardrums. He jerked awake, struggling out of a sticky sweat.

Above his head, the battered ceiling fan chugged on, stirring up a hot, musty wind. On the wall, a faded Jay Chou poster hung; the man’s sideways cap and crooked smile seemed, no matter how Li Yifei looked at it, to mock him right in the heart.

His finger brushed the desk, meeting something hard and sharp—the Hero-brand fountain pen, “Award from Water Harbor No. 4 Middle School” etched deep into its barrel. Damn it! This place, this broken desk, this pen... It was 2005! His junior high dorm, that miserable little den! Not the rented flat piled with instant noodle cups from later years!

At the foot of the bed, a pair of plastic sandals bore chalk dust from yesterday’s blackboard duty. The walls were crowded with posters of Jolin Tsai, S.H.E, and Jay Chou. No mistake, it was 2005.

Shivering, he groped under the pillow for his digital watch. The blue glow stung his eyes: May 15, 2005. Exactly one hundred days until the high school entrance exams.

“One hundred days...” Those three words seared his chest like a red-hot branding iron.

Ten years in the workforce, and he hadn’t made a dime; his savings sat at zero. That last medical report, its red arrows so many they could weave a net. Every time he closed his eyes, he saw that rainy night in 2025—curled up in a leaky corner, gnawing on a cold steamed bun, landlord’s rent reminders bleeding from the phone screen like a wound that would never close.

Outside, the plane tree leaves whispered. Sunlight pierced the tattered security mesh, painting crooked patches on the floor. Memories flooded through him, a deluge smashing against his skull.

The summer of 2005, he’d wasted away in play, botched the exams. The look in his parents’ eyes, then the private high school... That humiliation now burned inside him—a fire that would not be put out. This time, he’d claw his way to the top, even if it killed him!

“Heaven must be blind to send me back...” He sat up with a jolt, elbow knocking over the enamel mug by the desk. Clang! Cold tea spilled, swelling the golden letters “Victory in the Entrance Exam” on the cover of his practice book.

He looked at the spreading water, lips twisting. What once seemed as hard as reaching the sky now looked like a door he could kick open.

He opened his old math book, flipping to the Pythagorean Theorem. Damn, this was uncanny! The problems that once left him scratching his head now unfolded as easily as reading a comic; the answers leapt into his mind.

In his Chinese textbook, even the details of “Back View”—the father climbing the platform—stood out, right down to the punctuation marks. The sensation was equal parts thrill and fear—his golden finger had arrived.

Monday morning, “Iron Lady” Teacher Yang entered, arms full of exam papers, her navy-blue shirt collar worn thin.

Behind thick old-fashioned glasses, her gaze sliced through the class like a knife. “Just three months left! Last time’s exam, dead last! If you keep muddling along, the doors to the top schools will be welded shut!”

The girls in front hurriedly stuffed Slam Dunk comics into their desks. The boys in the back shielded their contraband spicy snacks with textbooks. Chalk dust drifted down, shaken loose by Teacher Yang’s pounding fist.

Li Yifei shrank into his corner “lucky spot”—not too far forward or back, grades always middling, teacher’s comments never changing: “Passable, needs effort.”

But now, his palms sweated rivers, heart pounding like a drum. Half from fear of being found out, half from the uncontainable fire in his belly—this time, he was going to seize the blade of fate!

During morning exercise, while others bounced around, he hid in the shade of the school building, leafing furiously through first-year math.

It was incredible! The twists and turns of geometry unfolded on their own; auxiliary lines popped into his head, solution steps flowed as smooth as running water. This new ability filled him with both glee and panic—time was short!

The days flew by beneath his pen.

Before dawn, by the riverbank, Li Yifei, in battered sneakers, stomped the moon’s reflection to pieces. Muttering English vocabulary like a monk chanting scriptures, he breathed in the cool air and listened to the small city yawn awake.

The broadcast for morning exercises blared, but he slipped into the equipment room, back pressed against cold iron bars as he recited words, his sweat soaking the metal. Stop? Not a chance!

After night study, the pool of light under the streetlamp became his second classroom. Physics problems sprawled across draft paper, forming a mountain.

The chubby manager at the county bookstore already knew him. “Back for more tough bones, kid?” Li Yifei grinned, squatting on the floor with his copy of “Comprehensive Solutions to Middle School Physics Competitions,” his pencil scratching away.

Outside the window, neon from the arcade splashed his face with color. The shouts of combat from the internet café sometimes tempted him, but at the thought of his past life’s humiliation, all cravings vanished.

During the monthly exam, the classroom was so silent you could hear a pin drop. Li Yifei gripped his 2B pencil, hand steady as if welded in place. He held back, careful not to stand out—deliberately missing a conversion on the parabola question, slipping a mistake into the complex sentence of his English essay. Too much attention would bring trouble.

The results were posted on the class bulletin board. Li Yifei—498 points! Sixth in the class! Eighty-ninth in the grade!

The crowd exploded.

“No way! Li Yifei? Did he eat something weird?”

“He must’ve cheated! Last time he scored barely three hundred!”

“Sixth place? Did the sun rise in the west?”

Teacher Yang adjusted her glasses, her gaze sharp as a probe. “Li Yifei, come with me to the office.”

In the staff room, Teacher Yang slapped his test papers onto the desk, her navy-blue shirt stretched tight. “Explain this!” Her finger jabbed the paper. “From just over three hundred to nearly five hundred in a month? Not even a rocket can go that fast!

“Well? Did you copy? Or use some sort of ‘high tech’ trick?” Back then, cheating with cell phones wasn’t common, but teachers were always on guard.

The hair on Li Yifei’s neck bristled, his palms icy, but the fire inside him only blazed hotter. He raised his head, eyes unwavering. “Teacher, I didn’t cheat. No tech tricks.”

His voice was a little dry, but steady.

“No cheating? Then explain this problem—the last comprehensive geometry question, only three students in the whole class got it right. How did you solve it?” Teacher Yang pressed in, pointing at the hardest problem on the math paper.

Li Yifei drew a breath. No turning back! He grabbed a piece of chalk, turned to the office blackboard, and began to write.

Auxiliary lines appeared in a few swift strokes, his solution steps unnervingly clear, his explanation rapid-fire yet precise at every critical turn.

His fluency and command of the material were far beyond what cramming could produce.

The other teachers paused, craning their necks to watch. The severity on Teacher Yang’s face slowly froze into astonishment. This kid—was he for real?

“…So, using similar triangles here to convert the segment ratio, then applying the Pythagorean Theorem, the answer follows.”

Li Yifei set down the chalk, his fingers dusted white, chest rising and falling as he looked at Teacher Yang. “If you don’t believe me, Teacher, grab any test—you can watch me solve it right now.”

The office was silent as the grave. Teacher Yang stared at the board, then at him, for a good ten seconds, her gaze probing as if to see through to his very bones.

At last, her tense shoulders eased a little. She waved him away, her voice tired yet devoid of accusation. “Alright, alright. Go back to study hall… prepare well for the exam.”

There was something new in her eyes—a trace of shock, perhaps, or an almost imperceptible hint of hope.

Out in the corridor, the onlookers scattered. The way his classmates looked at him had changed—some suspicious, some amazed, and something else, too.

Li Yifei wiped the cold sweat from his brow; his shirt was soaked through. He’d made it through this ordeal—barely, but he’d finally torn off the label of “slacker.”

The setting sun painted the school building a dirty yellow. Li Yifei, carrying his long-unused backpack, walked out the school gates. The river breeze pressed his sweaty T-shirt to his back. In the distance, the construction crane stirred the sunset like a giant arm.

He felt in his pocket for a small hard notebook—the one he used to jot down ideas for “Shrouding the Heavens,” packed full of dense handwriting. In 2005, web novels were just taking off—Tang Jia San Shao and the others were all the rage. It was his backup plan, just in case. No, forget “just in case”—there was no room for that!

His plans for the future were already etched into his mind: get into high school! Make it to a top university! Then, pass the exam—get into the place where he could truly make a difference.

Not just for himself, to climb out of the mud; he couldn’t forget the bloodshot eyes of his coworkers on the assembly line, the broken backs, and that dead resignation.

“To serve the people”? He wouldn’t let that be just five empty words on a wall. He’d make them come alive with warmth!

Night was falling. Li Yifei opened his diary and, on the first page, with his Hero pen, wrote in bold strokes:

“This time, I won’t just claw my way up. I’ll stand tall—and bring some light with me!”

The scratch of the pen on paper mingled with the scent of grilled skewers drifting from the night market and the off-key notes of “Mouse Loves Rice.” It gave this stifling summer night of 2005 a hint of something different.

Back in the dormitory, the iron bunk creaked and groaned. His roommates argued furiously about whether Lin Yue Ru should have died in “Chinese Paladin.”

The road ahead was still long. The entrance exams were only the beginning; the college entrance exams, university, and work—all lay ahead, each its own trial.

But this time, Li Yifei was fierce to his core. He would fight to the bitter end! For that sliver of light in his heart, even if he burned himself out, he’d make it shine—shine far and wide!