I Pray for the Evening Star, and the Fireflies Are for You

My name is Zhou Qi. One night in 2030, due to a sudden high fever, my consciousness sank. When I opened my eyes again, I fell into the early autumn of 2010. You can still feel the smell of hospital disinfectant on your fingertips, but in front of you is the mottled red brick teaching building of Qingning County No. 2 Middle School. I looked down at myself. I was wearing a blue school uniform that had been washed white, and I was holding a math textbook full of graffiti in my hand. The soul of a thirty-year-old was forcibly stuffed into the body of a sophomore in high school. There is no golden finger, no system, only the hot and cruel memories of life in my mind for more than ten years, washing over my nerves like a tide.