Late at night.

In the bedroom, moonlight pierced through the gaps in the curtains, casting a lone streak on the floor, becoming the only source of light.

Within the pale moonlight, the tiny shadows of insects crawling on the window flashed faintly.

Woo~

A vehicle from the residential area, with a gentle hum of its engine, passed by beneath the window outside.

The harsh white headlights shone through the curtain gaps, tracing a fan-shaped halo on the ceiling, which then slowly faded away as the vehicle moved on.

Click.

An old cassette was inserted into the player, and as the lid closed, a sound of opening and closing was heard.

Li Chengyi frowned as he plugged in his headphones and adjusted the volume, and soon, a quiet stream of music drifted out from the headphones and into his ears.

The music was lyricless, purely a blend of classical instruments: guzheng and pipa.

The tempo was relaxed, clear.

The sounds from the two instruments intertwined like two delicate and sharp threads, sometimes entangling, sometimes clearly delineated.

It was as if they were recounting an ancient story, or resembling two pale fingers ceaselessly twisting around each other.

Li Chengyi lay on his side against the pillow, staring at the pitch-black curtains, motionless, listening to the song in his headphones.

The cool pillowcase gradually warmed from the heat of his face, starting to release a faint fragrance of laundry detergent.

He lay there with open eyes, as if zoning out, yet as if he were contemplating something.

He clearly remembered that twenty minutes earlier, he had still been halfway up a mountain hike; twenty minutes later, he simply discovered a pretty little flower, and then suddenly felt dizzy... everything changed, and he found himself in another body, in this room, this world. He had become much younger.

After ten minutes of shock, doubt, and incredulity, he began to accept reality.

At this moment, a flood of information and memories rapidly fused with his own in his mind. These were all from another Li Chengyi who shared his name, the memories of nearly two decades in this world.

The information was incomplete, much of it blurry. But it was enough for him to get a preliminary grasp of his situation.

"Tomorrow, I have a very important friend coming to visit our home, so you and Li Chengyi should go out for a stroll, find something to do, and don't come back until after five in the afternoon, got it?"

A deep, young woman's voice faintly came from outside the bedroom.

Li Chengyi's train of thought snapped as the name automatically surfaced with the sound of that voice—it was Li Chengjiu.

This was his current body's older sister, presumably talking with their parents.

"All right, don't worry, we definitely won't interfere with your matters," their mother Feng Yurong replied cautiously.

The father didn't say a word, merely breathing slightly heavier, a silent agreement.

"Jiu, about... your brother's job situation still hasn't been settled, look..." their mother cautiously broached another subject.

"What's the rush, I haven't even stabilized the situation yet, we'll discuss it later. Don't cause me trouble," Li Chengjiu replied impatiently.

"Rest assured, absolutely not, absolutely not," their mother, Feng Yurong, responded softly.

"Go to sleep, and remember, don't come back before twelve, and if you see me going out with a girl with very pale skin, don't greet me. Just pretend you don't know me, got it?" Li Chengjiu continued.

"Rest assured, rest assured, we will stay away; we certainly won't mess up your important matters," their mother's voice paused, then quietly answered.

"Oh, yes," Li Chengjiu paused, "I have to pay my tuition fees this month, about one hundred and ninety thousand. You'll have to pay it for me tomorrow."

"One hundred and ninety thousand... Didn't we just pay a large sum?" mother Feng Yurong struggled a bit. Her husband and she were tight on money because of their frequent payments.

One hundred and ninety thousand was no small sum.

"This time it's for material costs, plus training fees!" Li Chengjiu said impatiently. "Don't you still have your pensions? Withdraw them to pay for it first, and then slowly replenish it later."

"This..." mother Feng Yurong hesitated, "Okay, we'll make sure it gets paid."

She didn't mention that their pension had already been withdrawn a long time ago to pay for Li Chengjiu's expenses.

Recently, the factory's profitability had been down, and their wages had been reduced. They really were strapped for cash.

Li Chengjiu grunted and pushed back her chair, rose to her feet, and walked to the bathroom to freshen up.

Leaving Feng Yurong and her husband, Li Zhao, sitting in the living room, speaking softly.

"I don't have enough pension funds on my side; you'll have to withdraw from the medical fund to make up for it, our daughter's future is important," Feng Yurong whispered.

"There's also Xiao Yi's job; we have to find connections and pay money. If it's all taken out, how will we manage medical expenses? Don't you need treatment for your back pain? You still need to get medicine every day," father Li Zhao replied rigidly.

"Let's just tighten our belts a bit more, we will make it up quickly, don't worry. My back doesn't hurt much now, it's fine," Feng Yurong whispered urgently, "Okay, okay, our daughter's future is more important, don't hold her back at a critical time."

"I got it, I got it," the father replied irritably, pausing before sighing deeply, seemingly a mix of helplessness and discomfort.

Then there was the sound of the two of them on their phones, figuring out how to go about the transactions.

Li Chengyi lay on the bed, eyes wide open, letting out a soft sigh.

Involuntarily, his mind conjured up the scene from the day before yesterday of his father, Li Zhao, speaking in a low voice on the balcony, asking relatives for money.

Although still unfamiliar with his surroundings, the parental love of this body's parents was a match for that of his previous parents, settling some of his unease.

Different bodies, different worlds, yet the sacrifice of parents for their children seemed to be universally the same.