Rewind, triggered.
With intense astonishment, the world in front of Zhang Shutong flickered, transforming into black-and-white frames like a trembling film reel.
His consciousness went blank, as if his soul had flown out of his body.
This was the typical phenomenon when "Rewind" occurred.
Zhang Shutong was extremely familiar with this sensation. When his consciousness returned, though his body hadn't regained full sensation, his mind buzzed—instantly ringing an alarm.
Someone was trying to kill him!
He didn't even have time to think about the reason for the "Rewind," for these time-jumping events often happened in short intervals. Moreover, the sudden attack made it even more urgent.
Was it a few seconds ago? Or was it a few minutes?
Would he return to the so-called forbidden zone by the lake, or would it happen on his way there? Or was someone already targeting him in the hotel?
He took a deep breath, quickly thinking about what to do.
He must save himself first
He mentally rehearsed the upcoming scene, even coming up with different plans. Once his senses returned, he exhaled deeply, and his hands and feet moved instinctively. Then, he suddenly opened his eyes
But...
Where was this?
The world in front of him was nothing like what he had imagined. The dark winter night was long gone; instead, it seemed like he was in a classroom.
A series of unfamiliar images filled his vision:
Straight ahead, there was a blackboard; in his peripheral vision, he could see children in school uniforms; in front of him, a black-painted desk with an open workbook…
Everything was quiet, only the faint sound of pens scratching across paper.
Nothing in sight seemed to have anything to do with the attack… No, it should be more accurate to say that it had nothing to do with the current situation.
Looking down, he realized that his hand wasn't his own, but rather his when it was smaller and paler, still holding a pen. The faint white scar on his palm felt familiar, a scar from his childhood.
A sudden guess surged in his chest.
Zhang Shutong turned his head in disbelief, and his gaze finally fixed on the electronic calendar at the back of the classroom.
The red pixels displayed the time:
Wednesday, December 5th, 2012.
He... had actually traveled back to eight years ago!
...
It could have been a few minutes, or maybe even longer; he didn't keep track of the time. After his heart had raced for what felt like several hundred beats, Zhang Shutong slowly exhaled, confirming the reality before him.
He really had come back.
This wasn't a rebirth, but rather, through the ability of "Rewind," he had jumped across eight years all at once.
He now clearly understood the time—it was indeed the first day of the second semester.
It wasn't that he was bad at math, but after years of living, he had almost lost track of time. If you asked him about a specific year, he could only vaguely recall what he did, such as being in middle school. But which grade he was in? That needed some thinking.
As for his current situation:
This was probably study hall, so everyone around him was quietly doing their homework.
His desk partner was unfamiliar to him, and he couldn't remember their name. He wasn't the type of person to cause trouble; when faced with unexpected situations, he preferred to think things through first.
What was most familiar to him, in fact, was the workbook in front of him. He flipped through it, an English workbook with a blue cover, titled "Five Years of Midterm Practice." It was something he couldn't forget even if he tried.
He turned to look outside. Through the metal bars of the window, he could see the ground outside the classroom:
Eight years ago, it probably snowed today. The red rubber track was covered in a layer of white snow.
The weather was far from ideal—clouds were low, and the light was dim. All the fluorescent lights in the classroom were on. That was one thing that was similar to eight years later.
But then came more questions:
Why had the "Rewind" been triggered?
Why eight years ago?
And who was trying to kill him?
There was something more important than all of these questions—something that surpassed even his own death:
Did the ability of "Rewind" still exist?
It was the first day of the second semester, and the accident had occurred during the summer after the middle school entrance exams.
He couldn't help but feel a surge of excitement, thinking of a famous paradox:
If someone traveled through time and killed their grandfather before their father was born, could they succeed?
Zhang Shutong didn't care whether the grandfather lived or died. What mattered was that he had come back. This meant that if he never went to that temple again, avoided that accident, he would get to live a normal life.
A normal life… a second chance...
This thought, buried deep in his heart for many years but never dared to wish for, was now becoming real.
He bit his lips, but the smile at the corner of his mouth couldn't be suppressed. It slowly spread wider. He buried his face in his arm, trying not to make any noise, though his body trembled slightly.
He imagined that his sixteen-year-old self would dash out of the classroom, run to the rooftop, and release the uncontainable joy in the place closest to the sky.
But the twenty-four-year-old him just wanted to sit quietly at his desk, savoring the excitement of this moment, thinking back to his sixteen-year-old face.
Even though there was no mirror in front of him, he could still remember how he looked back then: messy hair that is never neat, youthful facial features, a straight nose, a defined lip line, and eyes that always seem full of life.
Back then, he always thought the future had countless possibilities. Even though years passed, it felt like everything was heading in one direction. But in the end, wasn't he just back at the starting point?
He remembered a quote, though he couldn't recall where it came from:
"When a person, at the age of thirteen or fourteen, finds a real gun and, out of youthful ignorance, pulls the trigger, no one dies and no one gets hurt. They think they've fired an empty shot. Then, when they're thirty or older, walking down the street, they hear the faint sound of wind behind them. They stop and turn, and the bullet strikes them right in the forehead."
A bullet from eight years ago had struck his forehead.
Zhang Shutong genuinely thanked that bullet.
Once he calmed down, he raised his head, and everything in front of him looked adorable:
The oversized school uniform jacket was a symbol of youth; the snow-covered playground in the center had a patch of clear water; even the open workbook with exercises in front of him...
Okay, he took a quick glance, and it was still not cute.
Zhang Shutong had experienced quite a bit in his life, so after the initial excitement, he quickly calmed down.
Although he wanted to enjoy the carefree life of starting over, there were always things that needed to be figured out.
Like, what exactly was this strange "Rewind," and how had it occurred?
After thinking for a while, he started to piece things together.
It was clear that he had been killed.
The trigger condition was: "Something bad happened around me."
He had always thought that this ability wouldn't affect him.
Now, he realized it might just be a matter of intensity.
Injuries, bad moods… psychological or physical problems didn't meet the standard. Only death could trigger the Rewind.
Zhang Shutong didn't know what to say. He hadn't died in years, so he didn't realize that his ability could have other uses. He felt a bit apologetic for that.
The second problem was quickly solved:
Every time the timeline jumped, it would return to the critical point before the event occurred.
This meant his cause of death was tied to eight years ago.
The phantom pain on the back of his neck, the precision of the strike—it had been aimed directly at him.
But the time gap was too far, and even if he wanted to do something, he was left in confusion.
Today was December 5th. He died on December 12th, eight years later. To be exact, it was eight years and eight days ago.
This date was too striking for him to ignore.
"It's already been widely spread. It's no longer about knowing or not, it's about which version you believe..."
The conversation from a few hours ago echoed in his ears. A wild guess suddenly surfaced in his mind—
Could it be that he had been silenced?
Zhang Shutong felt conflicted.
He didn't like impulsive reasoning, but if he took Du Kang words seriously, everything started to make sense.
If the murderer had killed that missing girl eight years ago; then eight years later, for some reason, they turned to Lu Qinglian
And the killer had believed the absurd rumors, like "informing the murderer," which had spread through gossip, ultimately targeting him.
It seemed like this was the only explanation for why he had been sent back to the moment before the event occurred.
He took out a piece of paper and wrote his name, then Lu Qinglian, and finally the victim name. He thought for a moment, trying to remember if it might be Gu Qiummian.
He scribbled some symbols to help himself sort out the clues. Only he could understand them, like a suspect relationship diagram in a crime investigation.
Linking the three names together formed a triangle. Zhang Shutong stared at the triangle for a long time, thinking to himself, he had died unjustly.
As everyone knows, a triangle is the most stable structure. It was so stable that his death was inevitable, and the three of them were like grasshoppers on the same rope.
But at least, the result was good. He had a second chance at life and the opportunity to prevent two murders.
Thinking this, he subconsciously began to look for those two figures.
He didn't find Lu Qinglian, but there was an empty seat in the classroom, maybe she had gone out.
Instead, he spotted another figure, a beautiful girl named Gu Qiummian sitting by the window. She had medium-length hair, an oval face, and was wearing a thick scarf.
Her school uniform was draped over a chair, and she was wearing a cream-colored plaid sweater, which wasn't particularly eye-catching, but on her, it looked flimsy and out of place compared to the others.
Zhang Shutong couldn't tell if she was cold or not.
If she was cold, she should have put on her coat. If she wasn't cold, why was she wearing a scarf?
Zhang Shutong couldn't remember her face clearly, but the reason he noticed her was because she stood out—aside from being beautiful, she just stood out too much.
While the others were doing their homework, She lazily breathed on the glass and drew random lines with her fingers. After she finished drawing, Zhang Shutong still couldn't figure out what it was—was it a scary face?.
In the entire classroom, she seemed to be the only one not doing the right thing. Well, maybe not the only one—there was also him. Just the two of them.
Staring at the messy face she had drawn, more memories flooded back.
It was like how Gu Qiummian beautiful face and the scary face she drew didn't match at all. Gu Qiummian also never fit in with the rest of the class.
Autumn, autumn, her name implied the autumn rain, but her personality was never gentle—more like the freezing rain between winter and spring.
She was fine when she was in a good mood, but when someone irritated her, they'd be struck by the biting cold rain.
Zhang Shutong knew the term "young lady" didn't exactly fit with this isolated island, but in fact, that's exactly what she was.
Gu Qiummian father was a wealthy businessman, one of the first to thrive after the reform and opening up.
Her father's business spread widely, and at least within the province, he was well-known.
He originally worked in the neighboring provincial capital, but after achieving success, he decided to invest in the island, seeing its potential to become a 5A scenic area and planning to start from scratch.
Zhang Shutong had heard that the island's planned resort and shopping mall were probably part of Gu Qiummian father's plans.
Even on campus, there were traces of her father's contributions:
If you went to the administration building, you'd find a large photo of him as an "outstanding alumni."
Though he never attended the school, the fact that the school's only rubber track was donated by him was enough.
If you went to the library, which seemed out of place for a school of their size, there was a golden plaque next to the grand door, saying, "We sincerely thank Mr. Gu Jianhong for his donation."
The library was named "Jianhong Library."
Had it not been for the school's shortage of students, they might have even named another building after him.
Since his precious daughter attended this school, perhaps out of a desire to keep a low profile, Zhang Shutong never saw a statue of him at the school gate.
As for meeting Gu Qiummian in person, it was on her first day at school.
That day, Zhang Shutong was riding his newly bought bike and saw a black sedan blocking the school gate.
The car door opened, and a girl with round-headed boots stepped out, wearing a red and black checkered skirt, tossing her hair with flair, and the pendants dangling from the tips of her hair bouncing as she moved.
Back then, Zhang Shutong didn't understand much about cars. He only knew the car looked very high-end, and although he didn't know the make at the time, now he realized it was an Audi.
He followed her into the same classroom.
The girl first scanned the students with a scrutinizing gaze before asking who the class monitor was.
Zhang Shutong calmly replied that he didn't know. She probably thought he was disrespecting her, stopped rummaging through her bag, and shot him a glare with her dazzling eyes.
That was when Zhang Shutong realized they were both transfer students, and they had both transferred on the same day.
She brought a whole bag of chocolates with her, planning to use them to win over her "Pokémon."
Yes, everyone in the class was her "Pokémon."
Later, the chocolates were handed out, but the effect wasn't great, and in the end, she never fit into any group.
Gu Qiummian then embarked on her new school life, looking distinctly unhappy.
Zhang Shutong mostly missed McDonald from the city, but the young lady had trouble connecting with her "Pokémon" friends.
At first, no one really excluded her. It was just that the kids on the island had never seen such an arrogant girl before, and they were either intimidated or too self-conscious to know how to interact.
But eventually, things started to change:
One day, several girls finally gathered the courage to bring a bag of gold-foil chocolates to share with her.
She took one look at them, sighed, and casually said she didn't want them because they were made with palm oil instead of cocoa butter. She then offered to bring them some better chocolates.
The atmosphere froze, and the girls were utterly embarrassed. Not only had they been rejected, but they had no idea what "palm oil" even was.
For girls at that age, when they wanted a snack, gold-foil chocolates were the most affordable option. From the local shop, you could buy a large bag for just a few bucks, which was about the same as their pocket money for a month.
They had thought that the young lady was just too proud for the small-town people, but the next day, she came back with a bag of Godiva chocolates—a Belgian brand.
At the time, Zhang Shutong didn't recognize it, but later, when he bought a box of the same chocolates for a senior, he felt like he had spent blood.
While the island kids were used to palm oil chocolates, Gu Qiummian probably thought it was too silly to carry a gift box to school, so she casually put the expensive chocolates into a white plastic bag.
She smiled casually, as if the awkwardness from the previous day didn't exist, and said:
"You all try this, it's really good. My dad often buys it for me."
But no one took it. They treated her like air, and her outstretched hand froze there.
Now that he thought about it, it wasn't just that she was spoiled and didn't know how to interact with people—it was more about how awkward she was.
The story didn't end there:
Gu Qiummian couldn't stand this humiliation. That day, it was Zhang Shutong turn for class duty, and just as he was about to finish, a girl suddenly barged into the front door.
She startled him.
The girl's eyes were red, and she clenched her fist, walking up to him, tossing a white plastic bag in front of him, and asking if he wanted some chocolate.
Zhang Shutong hesitated for a moment—this question didn't really mean whether he wanted to eat it or not.
Rather, it meant that the girl who had led the group of girls in arguing with her, and whose name was unfortunately Feng Ruoping, had become a member of their little circle.
Zhang Shutong was never one to prioritize romantic relationships over friendships. Moreover, just the night before, Ruoping had lashed out at everyone, so after hesitating for a few seconds, he firmly rejected the offer.
The bag of chocolates was thrown into the trash, and Gu Qiummian walked out without a glance back.
Zhang Shutong didn't feel guilty about it, but the chocolates seemed like a waste, so the whole thing was brought up to the class teacher.
After that incident, the two of them were never on good terms, but that was just one-sided.
Perhaps, in Gu Qiummian eyes, "traitors" were more hateful than "enemies."
Though Zhang Shutong had never understood how he had become a "traitor," or why she even thought of him as on her side.
Maybe it was because they were both transfer students from the city?
Thinking back on it, compared to the other classmates, she did talk to him a bit more.
But back then, he didn't notice it. Rather than being oblivious, he just had other things on his mind.
His favorite extracurricular activity was fishing, and his favorite class activity was figuring out how to catch bigger fish.
That led to the fact that, when talking about his younger self—he did have some social skills, like chatting with Du Kang just a few hours ago—others always saw him as cold and aloof. It always surprised Zhang Shutong.
Was he cold?
He didn't remember giving anyone the cold shoulder except during the worst years. Usually, when he wasn't interested in a topic, he simply kept quiet.
Anyway, that was how things went. He didn't think much of being called a "traitor" back then, and he wasn't going to try to make things right. But things got worse, and there was another serious conflict between them, though he had forgotten exactly why. Either way, he was upset, and after that, they never spoke again.
Then she was murdered.
Zhang Shutong was somewhat wistful when thinking about all this when a glasses-wearing girl walked up to the front of the classroom.
She cleared her throat and said:
"Don't forget to change seats during the break. Those who haven't packed up yet, hurry up."