Chu Yao died on her twentieth birthday. Chu Weiwei, the fake heiress she'd protected for ten years, smiled as she pushed her off the rooftop.
In her final moments, she saw Shen Mo, the boy she'd called “the chauffeur's son” and forced to drop out of school, standing by the sea before a blank gravestone. His fingertips were worn bloody as he carved the character for “Yao,” and he whispered, “In our next lives, let me protect you.”
When she opened her eyes again, she was back on the night she turned eighteen, in a bar. Chu Weiwei was egging people on to call Shen Mo a “broke loser,” and Chu Yao was still holding the glass of wine she'd planned to throw on him.
“Ding! Regret System bound. You are forbidden to say ‘reborn’ or ‘past life.’ Mission: Gain Shen Mo's trust. Current trust: -100. Failure will send you back to painful scenes of pushing Su Qing down the stairs and forcing Chu Feng to cut ties with you.”
Chu Yao tightened her grip on the glass, then splashed it in Chu Weiwei's face instead. “That filthy mouth of yours needs washing.”
She'd thought being reborn was the start of making amends, but something about Shen Mo seemed off.
He looked at her as if his eyes were glazed with ice, yet when thugs cornered her, he silently stepped in front of her and took a blow.
He tore up the revision notes she'd stayed up all night writing, then turned around, picked up the pieces, taped them back together, and hid them in his textbook.
He sneered, “What trick is Miss Chu trying to pull now?” Yet when she secretly paid his father's hospital bill, he traced the account and, eyes red, said, “I'll pay you back.”
Chu Yao grew more and more uneasy. Was this really the Shen Mo she'd bullied at will in her past life?
Then, during a System punishment, she caught sight of the old scar on his wrist, exactly like the one he'd had in prison in her past life. Only then did she realize:
Perhaps she wasn't the only one who had been reborn.
