July 8, 2001. A sudden, torrential downpour lashed the coastal city of Haizhou, drenching everything in its path.
Pedestrians scrambled for shelter under awnings and eaves, leaving the streets empty except for cars and a few umbrella-wielding stragglers. Among them was a teenage boy, drenched in mud and rainwater, sprinting frantically through the storm.
Clutched tightly against his chest was a clear plastic folder holding pens, pencils, an eraser, and—most crucially—his college entrance exam admission ticket and ID card. The boy, Li Mu, had blood trickling from a gash on his left temple, yet he ran like a man possessed, drawing bewildered stares from onlookers.
"Even after rebirthing, I couldn't avoid getting hit by that car!" he cursed inwardly. "If only I'd come back ten minutes earlier…"
Half an hour prior, Li Mu had been cycling to his final English exam when a sedan struck him at a crosswalk. Knocked unconscious, he was rushed to the hospital by ambulance—only to wake en route. But the consciousness that stirred now wasn't that of the teenage Li Mu. It was his thirty-year-old self, transported fifteen years into the past from 2016.
The original Li Mu had been coding late at night when darkness swallowed him. When he opened his eyes again, he was here: bloodied, rain-soaked, and hurtling toward the exam that once derailed his life.
In his previous timeline, this accident had delayed him by thirty-five minutes. Though allowed into the exam hall on compassionate grounds, he'd missed most of the listening section. His resulting English score of 49 dragged his total to 535—five points shy of the first-tier university cutoff. He'd settled for a second-tier provincial college, a decision that haunted him for years.
His parents and the driver—a young woman named Chen Wan—had urged him to retake the exam. Chen even offered to cover all repeat-year expenses. But pride and a desire to ease his family's financial burden made Li Mu refuse.
He never saw Chen again until her funeral in 2015. Only then did he learn she'd secretly paid his college tuition, and that her life had spiraled tragically: her father imprisoned for illegal fundraising, her husband vanishing after losing everything in the stock market crash, her reputation shredded by tabloid lies. Broken, she'd drunk herself to death.
Now, as Li Mu fled the ambulance earlier, he'd shouted back at the panicked woman chasing him: "Don't follow me! This isn't your fault. And remember—stay away from stocks!" He bore her no grudge, then or now. But how could he warn her about disasters years away?
His digital watch blinked 2:50 PM. Ten minutes until the exam. One kilometer to go.
"Still time!" He pushed harder, rainwater stinging his wound. No moment to savor this miraculous second chance—not when his entire future hinged on an English test whose questions he'd long forgotten.
At thirty, working as a coder in Beijing, he'd seen how degrees shaped destinies. Peers from elite schools became directors and VPs earning 500k yuan yearly, while his second-tier diploma trapped him as a "senior engineer" making half that. No management roles. No Beijing apartment. Three failed relationships. Parents aging in their cramped hometown.
How often he'd fantasized about restarting from this very day: ace the exam, comfort his parents in their youth, confess to his high school crush Su Yingxue without fear of rejection…
Yet here he was—bloodied, dripping, and utterly unprepared for the test.
2:59 PM. Li Mu skidded into the exam building, a fifth-tier city's modest structure. He burst through his classroom door just as the bell rang.
A male invigilator blocked him, scowling at the bedraggled figure: mud-streaked clothes, bloodied temple, rainwater pooling at his feet. "What is this?" the teacher barked. "You think this is your living room? Dry off before—"
Inside, thirty examinees gaped. A female invigilator froze mid-way through unsealing test papers. No one had ever seen a candidate arrive like this: half his white shirt pink with diluted blood, face a mask of rain and determination.
"I'm here to take the exam," Li Mu panted, clutching his plastic folder like a lifeline.