I accept that I have been reborn, but who is this woman?
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PS: Dear godfathers, give me a chance.
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"I'm not asking you for money, but if we're together, you have to give me half your salary."
"And it's not just me saying this—you’re already thirty and only making a bit over twenty thousand a month. Why not change jobs?"
Beijing, inside a Thai restaurant.
Chen Ze looked at the woman across from him, twenty-five or twenty-six, average-looking but decently dressed, and interrupted her:
"I'm twenty-six."
“Does it make a difference?” The woman’s eyes narrowed, clearly irritated by what she deemed a pointless correction, and she tapped her finger on the table, emphasizing, “In big cities these days, if a man doesn’t make thirty to fifty thousand a month, it’s really not respectable. I’m only thinking of your best interests.”
Chen Ze said nothing, sighing softly.
His aunt really did love her jokes. It was one thing to introduce him to a “national treasure,” but this one turned out to be a “CPU master” as well.
He was genuinely afraid she’d start lecturing him on the spot.
The woman was talkative and clearly displeased by his silence. She took a bite of food and then, still wearing a sour expression, said, “And another thing, I don’t like men who are sullen and dull.”
Chen Ze glanced at her glossy red lips across the table, finally unable to hold back a smile as he interrupted, “Men usually prefer being silent.”
With that, he stood up. The woman was momentarily stunned, her surprise turning quickly into a frown as she snapped, “What do you mean by that?”
“The food doesn’t suit my taste. We’ll be in touch.”
When she saw Chen Ze drape his jacket over his arm and prepare to leave, the woman, no fool herself, darkened visibly, her anger spilling over. “You’d better think carefully about this. Don’t regret it.”
“Chen Ze, you really have no sense of responsibility!”
After leaving the restaurant, he smoked a cigarette as he strolled down another street, retrieving his car keys from his pocket.
The black Cadillac’s lights flashed yellow. With the cigarette still between his lips, Chen Ze peeled a parking ticket from the windshield, checked the plate number, and stuck the ticket back on the rightful owner’s car.
He knew that slapping someone else’s ticket on his own car probably wouldn’t fool the traffic police.
But who could say for sure?
Isn’t that what life is—everyone says living is hard, yet we’re all looking for our slice of luck.
The white Porsche Panamera hadn’t left yet, but Chen Ze couldn’t be bothered. He got into his car and pressed the start button.
He was just about to shift gears and drive off when, glancing up, he saw a striking woman in a stepmother-style dress striding toward him in the evening light, her figure alluring, every line perfect.
Alongside her was a man carrying Louis Vuitton and Prada shopping bags.
His gaze moved from the windshield to the rearview mirror.
Chen Ze watched as the man tore off his own parking ticket and tossed it to the ground. Soon, the white Panamera drove off, as if returning triumphant.
“Ding ding ding—”
His phone rang. It was a video call from his aunt. Chen Ze declined and texted back that he was driving.
If his aunt was calling at this hour, it was almost certainly because that woman had complained after he blocked her on WeChat.
Damn, that little brat.
Recalling the woman’s words, Chen Ze tried to remain respectful and understanding, but he simply couldn’t agree.
Thirty years old, big city, fifty-thousand-a-month salary?
He really was only twenty-six.
He might not have reached thirty in the big city, but back home in their small county, he was hardly young.
Most of his childhood friends were already married—some even had second children in kindergarten—and he knew his family was anxious.
That’s why his aunt, who worked at the Health Bureau, introduced him to her colleague’s daughter.
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As it turned out, it wasn’t that he didn’t want to join the banquet—he simply couldn’t stomach the dishes.
It wasn’t as if he’d never dated before, but the more relationships he experienced, the less he wanted to get married. Had his family not insisted this time, he wouldn’t even have bothered coming.
When words fail, even half a sentence is too much.
It wasn’t merely a difference in values with this woman; she seemed intent on overturning all his boundaries.
A thirty-year-old with a forty- or fifty-thousand salary—sure, it existed, but the way she said it, you’d think it was the norm, something anyone could achieve with ease.
Compared to most twenty-six-year-olds, he was doing all right, but ultimately, it was just jumping from one muddy pit to another, the latter only slightly shallower.
Mortgage, car loan, credit cards, the relentless rat race, and the looming anxiety of turning thirty—he knew these things all too well.
If you have family prestige, you stay home; if you’re poor, you seek your fortune elsewhere.
He had struggled so hard in the big city, but looking back, he was no freer than his friends who’d stayed in the small town.
He had thought he was a city man returning to the village.
In truth, he belonged nowhere, neither here nor there.
Where does a man’s sense of belonging truly lie?
“Zhao, help me book Number Sixteen.”
Chen Ze hung up, put his phone aside, shifted into gear, and soon drove off.
On the road, he thought of Number Sixteen, whose name he’d never even asked. He rolled down the window, stretched his hand out, and flashed a universal gesture at the aggressive taxi driver trying to cut him off.
The first time he saw her, she was standing before him with a small suitcase, gazing up at him with gentle, watery eyes, so sweet and obedient.
Perhaps it was the enchanting night, but in that dimly lit little room, their conversation drifted from light to deep, from Maupassant to Kafka, from Tagore to Van Gogh, all in a gentle tide...
They were both in their twenties—why was one so understanding, and the other so oblivious to herself?
He couldn’t figure it out, no matter how hard he tried.
Chen Ze couldn’t afford a four- or five-million-yuan wedding, but a two- or three-thousand-yuan medical bill was within his means.
A night passed in tranquil silence.
...
“Ring ring ring.”
Half asleep, his head swimming with a hangover, Chen Ze groped for his phone and squinted at the screen.
He caught a glimpse of a tangled mass of dark hair on the white sheets and sat up a little, continuing to look at the phone.
But the more he looked, the more confused he became—this didn’t seem to be his phone, though the caller ID looked awfully familiar.
[Yaoyao, Darling Wife.]
Without thinking, he answered the call. A sweet, slightly aggrieved voice quickly came through.
“Chen Ze, why didn’t you answer my calls? Do you know how worried I was about you all night?”
“Huh?”
Chen Ze was baffled. He understood every word she said, but together, they made no sense.
Who the hell was this?
When that question arose, and as the voice on the other end grew more familiar, a glance at the phone left him even more stunned.
June 10, 2018.
Six years ago?
“Hmph, I’m angry now.”
Yaoyao’s voice was sugary sweet, almost coquettish. Chen Ze regained his composure and replied coolly, “Fine, let’s break up then.”
Now it was Yaoyao’s turn to be stunned. Before she could say anything, Chen Ze hung up.
Afterward, she called; he hung up.
After three or five attempts, Chen Ze finally answered with impatience, and Li Yao’s voice, full of grievance, burst through.
“What do you mean? I’m really mad now, and nothing you do will make it up to me... hmph.”
On the other end, Li Yao’s heart felt empty, as if she was about to lose something important. Still, she was convinced Chen Ze wouldn’t really break up with her—he’d definitely send her a red packet to make up.
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“Are you deaf? We’ve broken up.”
“Why? You’ve really changed. I get upset and you don’t even care anymore, is that it?”
“Different interests, that’s all. I like women, you like men. Is that reason enough for you, kid?”
Hearing Chen Ze’s detached tone, Li Yao truly began to panic, but she still protested in wounded disbelief, “What kind of reason is that? It’s me...”
“Don’t call me again, or I won’t hesitate to hire a lawyer to recover all the money I transferred to you over the past two years.”
Chen Ze finished blandly, hung up without a flicker of emotion, and blocked her on WeChat.
Li Yao had been his second girlfriend, and she was once the one he loved most.
A sweet, innocent little thing—with CPU skills to match.
They got together in the second half of high school. Back then, Chen Ze’s family was still well-off, and over three years Li Yao used coquetry, coaxing, and empty promises to swindle over 100,000 yuan from him.
That was just the money he’d sent her—not counting gifts, hotel rooms, and other expenses. He was a first-rate sucker.
Any occasion, she’d demand a red envelope from him—New Year’s, Women’s Day, Labor Day, Mid-Autumn Festival, Arbor Day, Christmas...
She didn’t even spare Tomb-Sweeping Day, Army Day, or Double Ninth Festival, let alone anniversaries.
Thankfully, she never went so far as to say, “Anyone who’s eaten with my grandma should send me a red packet for Mother’s Day.” That was the one bit of dignity he had left.
Hmph~ Just for your good attitude in admitting fault, I’ll punish you with a little 520 transfer. Baby~ Don’t send 5,200, okay? You need to save up to marry me, you promised!
Once, Chen Ze had cherished her as the untouchable light of his life, afraid she’d melt in his mouth or shatter in his hands.
Whenever she acted cute or got angry, he’d grant her every wish, sparing no effort—servile to the extreme, nothing was left unslavered.
Only later did he realize he was nothing more than a handsome ATM, a punching bag.
Someone to be discarded once his usefulness ran out.
He had been reborn.
Perhaps because he’d already weathered the heartbreak, seeing it all again with the mind of a twenty-six-year-old, he felt no anger.
His heart was as calm as water—he even found it a little funny.
Even if he still had feelings for her, he wouldn’t be sad.
Especially when you’re the one who loved deeply and got hurt, you shouldn’t grieve for the other party. Think about it: late at night, you’re crying for her—do you know what she’s feeling?
Having returned from the future, Chen Ze had a simple rule: never let a good girl down; never waste time on a bad one.
But it didn’t matter anymore.
Instead of clinging on, he now understood—men must be rational; when it’s time to cut ties, do it cleanly.
If he didn’t break up now, Li Yao would do it herself in three months anyway.
Better to act first—out of sight, out of mind. Block her, move on.
As for hiring a lawyer to recover his money, there was no rush. He hadn’t come back to life for such a petty sum.
“See? Men really are all the same.”
Just as Chen Ze was lost in the realization that he’d been reborn, a lazy, muttering female voice came from beside him.
He turned his head. Black hair veiled delicate, exquisite features; the woman beside him gazed at him with a look of grievance.
She was stunningly beautiful.
Beneath willow-leaf brows, long curled lashes; a straight, elegant nose, and enticing red lips she now bit lightly.
Though her face showed every trace of exhaustion, she was still a natural beauty, a rare and refined woman.
But Chen Ze was baffled.
Hadn’t he been reborn?
He couldn’t recall any memory of this woman!