Chapter Four: Contrast

The four classes this afternoon were Mathematics, Chinese, English, and English.

Just reborn, Zhou Ziyang found it impossible to focus on his studies. He still couldn't fathom how he had been reborn. Was this reality, or just a dream? If it were a dream, it felt far too vivid.

There were two English classes: one for reviewing a test paper and one for taking a new one. During the reading comprehension section, the English teacher, as usual, called on Xia Wei to read the text aloud. Xia Wei was top of the school in English, and her pronunciation was the most standard. When she read, her voice was crisp and melodious.

Zhou Ziyang sat just behind and to the side of her, watching Xia Wei as she stood elegantly, holding her textbook. The evening sun cast a golden glow, spilling through the window onto her. From Zhou Ziyang’s vantage point, it felt as though she were bathed in light, her figure almost hidden by the radiance. Yet, this very concealment only added a unique charm to her presence.

Blue skies, white clouds, the school building, the chirping of cicadas and birds, the sycamore trees, and the pleasant sound of the dismissal bell—this was the flavor of youth.

When the 5:30 bell rang, the classroom suddenly grew noisy. Whether in their first or third year, students were required to attend evening study sessions forty minutes later, though the third-years had one extra period. Students gathered in groups, discussing what to have for dinner. Zhou Ziyang packed his bag, intending to skip the session.

In his previous life, Zhou Ziyang had not attended Li Dongfeng’s farewell dinner, a fact he hadn't regretted. Yet, recalling Li Dongfeng’s wretched state when they met years later, Zhou Ziyang felt a desire to change things. It wasn't out of some saintly impulse, but simply because he wanted something to do in his boredom. He was twenty-nine now; he was no longer the boy trapped by the school.

With his bag packed, Zhou Ziyang stood up and walked out of the classroom.

"Zhou Ziyang!"

As he reached the stairwell, Xia Wei called out to him. By now, the other students had swarmed toward the cafeteria, leaving the third-year floor hauntingly empty.

In the distance, the sun hung low in the west, red as a giant apple. Xia Wei wore her hair in a clean, sharp high ponytail. She was tall and slender, her waist delicate. Her pleated skirt, ending above the knees, swayed gently in the evening breeze, revealing long, slender legs. She wore cotton socks that reached her ankles.

She stepped in front of Zhou Ziyang and asked bluntly, "Where are you going?"

Zhou Ziyang replied, "What business is that of yours?"

"Of course it’s my business; I don't want you to disgrace your father," Xia Wei said, as condescending and self-righteous as ever.

Zhou Ziyang sneered with disdain. "He’s my father. If a son disgraces his own father, it’s only natural. Does that concern you?"

"What did you say?" Xia Wei froze, unable to believe her ears. This was the first time Zhou Ziyang had referred to that man as "father" in her presence. For a moment, a sense of crisis washed over her.

The whole school rumored that Xia Wei was not only beautiful and well-proportioned, but most importantly, the daughter of a high-ranking official in the Procuratorate. Xia Wei neither confirmed nor denied this. A teenage girl’s vanity led her to naturally enjoy the adulation of others. But in reality, she was merely the tag-along daughter from her mother’s remarriage to Zhou Ziyang’s father.

At school, she had always maintained a high-and-mighty, refined persona. She cared for no other boy, focusing only on Zhou Ziyang’s every move. She truly feared that one day, if Zhou Ziyang caused trouble and summoned his father, everyone would learn that her parents were a blended family, and more importantly, that Zhou Ziyang was the true son of the high official, while she was merely a stepdaughter who had "usurped the magpie's nest." Fortunately, Zhou Ziyang had always had a poor relationship with his father.

"You... why did you suddenly call him..." Xia Wei grew anxious. She wanted to ask why he had said "father" so smoothly, but then she realized they were father and son—wasn't it normal? This thought only made her more frantic.

Ultimately, she was just a girl under eighteen who was decent at her studies. A single word from Zhou Ziyang could shatter the carefully constructed persona she had built before her classmates. Of course she