It was pure instinct.
Doug Feng didn't think—he just reacted. The second he saw the spill, his hand shot forward to help Ms. Qing Fang dry her chest area.
Bad idea.
"Ahhh! Get away from me!" she shrieked, recoiling like she'd just touched a live wire.
Doug's hand froze in mid-air. Before he could say anything, she stumbled backward, sending him toppling from his chair. He hit the ground hard, vision spinning, ears ringing, and a fresh bruise forming somewhere under his pride.
When he finally sat up, his eyes met Ms. Qing Fang's furious, blushing face. Her soaked blouse clung to her chest like second skin, the white fabric now embarrassingly translucent. In a panic, she folded her arms to cover herself.
"D-Don't look!" she stammered, her voice breaking with embarrassment. "Just—just go home, Doug Feng. Now!"
"O-oh… yeah. Right. Sorry!"
Doug scrambled to his feet, suddenly fascinated by the floor tiles. But the image had already burned itself into his brain: the outline beneath that sheer white shirt, the curves, the absolute golden ratio of it all. He wasn't proud of the thoughts racing through his head.
Then—
Ding! Favorability +1. Urban Favor System activated. Exchange Store unlocked. Points now count toward rankings.
Doug blinked. The words had echoed loud and clear in his mind.
"Wh—what? Who said that?!" he blurted, spinning around in confusion.
Ms. Qing Fang arched a brow. "What's wrong with you? There's no one here. Are you still freaked out from earlier? It's okay, I get it. Just—just forget what happened. You didn't see anything, alright?"
She had quickly slipped on a black cardigan, hiding the soaked blouse. Her face was still flushed pink, and she wouldn't meet his eyes.
Doug nodded awkwardly. But even as he tried not to stare, his eyes were drawn to the faint water stains on her cardigan. His heart skipped a beat.
And that voice… was it real? Or just his imagination?
As he turned to leave, something caught his eye—floating above Ms. Qing Fang's head was a glowing red number: 1.
"What the hell? Wasn't it 68 earlier? And now it's a red 1? Where'd the transparency go?"
He tried to stare a moment longer, but Ms. Qing Fang's glare snapped him out of it.
"Right. I'm going!" he said, hoisting his bag and making a hasty retreat.
By the time he stepped out of the office, the hallway felt like an alternate dimension compared to the chaos behind him. His mind buzzed.
Was I hallucinating? Did I just unlock some weird dating system?
He had no time to make sense of it. Not yet.
Doug's home wasn't far from Zhicheng High School—just three turns and a ten-minute walk. But it felt like a journey through time.
This wasn't just any homecoming. He hadn't stepped foot in this neighborhood in over three years. In the timeline he remembered, their house had been demolished in 2007 during urban development. His family got a laughably small compensation and were forced to move.
Now, somehow, he was back in April of 2006. Six years erased. Time reversed. And the Favor System? What the hell was that?
Doug shook his head. No use trying to solve metaphysical mysteries on an empty stomach.
As he reached the gate, memories began flooding back.
2006: Accepted into a low-tier college in B City, tuition nearly 20k per year.
2007: Home demolished. His father injured in the scuffle.
2008: His mother diagnosed with stomach cancer.
2009: She passed.
2010: His father died in a traffic accident while delivering goods.
Doug had been alone ever since.
Now—here he was.
"I'm home…" he muttered, voice trembling.
"Back so soon? You sound like you haven't been home in years, Little Feng!"
His mother's voice came from the kitchen, thick with warmth and playful scolding. Zhao Guizhen walked out holding a steaming pot of mushroom chicken soup, apron tied around her waist, her short silver-streaked hair pinned neatly behind her ears.
"Come on, sit. Eat while it's hot!" she said, plopping the pot down on the old wooden table. "This is wild hen—your uncle brought it over just for you. Says you're burning brain cells prepping for college entrance exams. We can't afford those fancy supplements, so chicken it is!"
Doug stared, stunned.
The smell of home-cooked soup. The steam curling around chipped porcelain bowls. His mother's calloused hands and kind smile.
His eyes stung.
"Mom…" he whispered.
"What are you crying for, silly boy? Real men don't cry! Are you upset about the mock exam today? Even if you didn't do well, it's okay. Just promise me you're not sneaking off to arcades or internet cafés."
She laughed, dropping a fat chicken leg into his bowl. "Now eat up. This chicken's been fed nothing but our own rice—ten times better than those chemical-filled ones from the market."
Doug nodded, silently devouring the food. He hadn't tasted anything like it in years. His heart ached and warmed all at once.
"I'll study hard, Mom," he said between bites. "I promise. Even if I can't get into a top university, I'll at least get into a decent one. I won't let you down this time."
His mother smiled, gently patting his head.
"Good boy."
As Doug finished up, she ladled another bowl.
"Take this over to your Sister Zhu. That poor girl's been working night shifts all week. Let her have something hot and nutritious."
"Okay," Doug replied, memories of Liang Yanzhu flashing through his mind.
Sister Zhu, the sweet nurse next door, had basically grown up alongside him. Her dad passed away early, and she lived with her mom. In the old timeline, they'd lost contact after the forced relocation. But he remembered enough—she married a gambler and lived a tough life after.
With a sigh, Doug stepped outside with the soup, turned a corner, and arrived at their door.
"Hey, Sister Zhu? You there?" he called out.
No answer.
He nudged the door—it creaked open.
"Guess I'll just leave it on the table," he muttered, stepping in.
He placed the bowl on the kitchen counter, then felt an urgent pressure in his bladder.
"Too much soup…" he mumbled, heading toward the bathroom.
As he entered, he paused.
Water was running.
The bathroom and shower shared the same space—partitioned by just a thin curtain. And behind that curtain… someone was clearly showering.
And then—
"Mom? Is that you?" came a soft, familiar voice from behind the curtain. "I'm taking a shower… you really shouldn't come in without knocking!"
Doug's heart froze.
That's… Sister Zhu?!
He turned to leave immediately, panicking. But fate had other plans.
Just as he tried to sneak out, the front door creaked open.
Oh no. That must be her mom! If she sees me here—
Panic rising, Doug froze. He couldn't go forward, couldn't go back.
"Mom? Why aren't you saying anything?"
Then—swish!—the curtain opened.
"AHHH!"
A scream tore through the air.
Doug had been seen. And Sister Zhu was… very much in the middle of her shower.
To be continued…