We Are All Reborn, Who Is Still a Social Beast?

35 Years old, product director of an Internet company, with an annual salary of one million, died suddenly while working overtime. When he woke up, he was back in September 2003 - in the third year of high school classroom. The ceiling fan above his head was squeaking, and his deskmate Shen Yu was lowering his head to do math problems. The countdown on the blackboard reads "278 days until the college entrance examination." He touched his pocket, Nokia 3310, the screen showed: Thursday, September 3, 2003. Thursday. Working days. He doesn't have to go to work anymore. This year, my father has not yet been laid off, my mother's waist has not yet broken, and Zhao Dezhu, who squeezed out his quota for recommendation, is still arrogant. This year, the house price was 2,000, Taobao was just born, and no one had heard of blogs. This year, Shen Yu was still sitting next to him, his ponytail swaying in the wind. In his last life, he lived what everyone expected - a good university, a good job, and a good salary. Then he collapsed at his workstation at the age of 35 without even having time to say "I'm tired." In this life, he has only one thought: Fuck the social clock. I am resurrecting my life, and I am not here to be used as fuel for you. From today on, he only does three things: Let your parents live a good life. Get that girl back. And - never, never be a social animal again.