Ye Mo suddenly woke up from his desk.
The pain from the chalk hitting his forehead was vivid, and the noise in the classroom suddenly seemed too real to be a memory.
Written on the blackboard was September 1, 2008 - that was the starting point of all his tragedies.
On the first day of his senior year in high school, his father will be falsely accused of committing suicide tomorrow, and he will fall into hell from then on.
The memory of the past life weighed heavily on my chest with the bitterness of failure.
The strict class teacher on the podium and his classmate Lin Wei who laughed at him in a low voice in the back row still looked the same as when they were young.
Ye Mo calmly wiped away the non-existent saliva from the corner of his mouth.
"This time, it's up to me to tear up their life script."
