At thirty-two, Jiang Yi had become a joke.
The woman he’d been dating for five years left him for someone else.
The brother he’d grown up sharing everything with turned against him.
He’d spent five years at the factory, never getting a break and always taking the blame.
Then he opened his eyes and was back at twenty-seven.
A hard bed, an old phone with a cracked screen, and the landlord banging on the door outside, demanding rent.
That year, she was still smiling at him from behind the checkout counter. Pangzi was still dragging him into plans to open a shop. The grudges hadn’t begun, the books hadn’t gone bad, and there was still time for everything.
Jiang Yi told himself: This time, keep your eyes open and grow a backbone. Get back everything he owes you, with interest; protect the people you’ve let down, even if it costs you your life.
Little by little, life really did get better.
But then some things started to feel wrong.
The sky was always overcast. Whenever he tried to look something up, his phone would spin forever. His memory was excellent, yet he just couldn’t get a few numbers straight.
And then there were the people.
Those who made threats seemed to be trying to shield him from something; those who smiled to his face turned around and stabbed him in the back.
He thought he’d come back to change his fate.
Only later did he understand: he’d come back to turn in his paper.
Well written