"Come on, Link! His nose is injured, attack his nose!"
"Link, you're about to win, hang in there!"
"Link, get up, damn it, that's a million bucks, a million if you just stand up!"
"Link————"
Link abruptly opened his eyes, sat up from the bed, took a few deep breaths, suppressed the pounding heart in his chest, and felt somewhat dazed for a moment.
He had had a dream again.
He dreamed he was taking part in a cage fight in the underground gambling dens on the Myanmar-Thailand border, fighting for a one-million US Dollar reward, and was beaten to death in the final match.
Since his transmigration, he had often dreamed of his past life, where he hadn't finished high school and went to work in a private iron mine at West Mountain with his uncle, pushing carts filled with ore out every day.
The exit tunnel was a slope, and he always had to hold his breath, grit his teeth, and rush upwards with all his might to push the heavy cart out of the mine.
He ran back and forth seventy or eighty times a day, completely exhausted every time he finished his shift, lying in bed like a dead man.
He continued this work for three years.
One day at eighteen, while eating at a restaurant, he encountered a robbery and subconsciously swung a punch, making the assailant spit blood and breaking three of his ribs.
At the time, his boxing coach, Coach Liu, was also eating at the restaurant.
Seeing his strength and agility, Coach Liu thought he had potential and asked if he wanted to learn boxing.
Hearing about a 3,000 Yuan stipend per month, he immediately agreed to Coach Liu's proposal and followed him to train in boxing, participating in amateur competitions domestically.
His amateur career record was 12 wins in 12 matches; during his thirteenth match, he got too carried away and punched his opponent to death. Though it was involuntary manslaughter, he was sentenced to three years in prison.
This imprisonment had a profound impact on him, stripping him of the chance to represent his country and resulting in his expulsion from the provincial boxing team, while also landing him on the blacklist of other fight clubs. He could only participate in underground boxing with Coach Liu.
At twenty-eight, there was an invitation to a no-rules fighting tournament at the Myanmar-Thailand border, where many national wrestlers and boxers competed, and the champion would get one million US Dollars.
He accompanied Coach Liu to the tournament.
After six elimination rounds, he successfully made it to the finals. However, the underground gambling dens' matches cared little for rules, and misconduct was rampant, causing injuries in every match.
In the last match, an old injury recurred, and he was killed in the arena.
When he awoke, he found himself lying in a hospital in Miami, transformed into an American named Link Baker.
Link Baker, twenty years old.
At fifteen, his father was killed in a street shooting, his mother remarried, and Link Baker became a street thug, engaging in drug dealing, drag racing, theft, and frequent brawls, landing him in jail multiple times.
Half a month ago, during a street fight, he was stabbed in the back with a dagger, bled excessively, died, and was successfully taken over by Link.
This diving shop was a legacy from his predecessor's grandfather, who was an old fisherman and had opened it on the beach after he was no longer able to fish.
Since waking up, Link had taken over here, becoming a diver. Although he didn't make much money, he felt his mood improving slowly while watching the sunny beaches and the ocean. The various discomforts brought by the transmigration were also fading slowly.
He was quite satisfied with his current life.
"Hey, welcome to Miami."
Link smiled at the mirror. The person in the mirror had neat, short black hair, narrow double eyelids, finely sculpted facial contours, and astonishingly handsome like a statue, with deep, pure blue eyes reminiscent of the sea outside the window, profound and pristine, tinged with a hint of melancholy.
This face and aura somewhat resembled his former life, which was another aspect he found satisfying.
After exiting the bathroom, Link donned a set of red sports gear with letters on it and wrapped two ten-pound sandbags around his waist for a morning run on the beach.
It was a little past four in the morning, the sky not yet fully bright, dotted with countless stars, a crescent moon hanging like a hook. Far away, the ocean surface under the night appeared calm, with only a few small islands protruding, dark and wavy like the skull of a marine giant emerging.
Link started at the diving shop along the seaside boulevard and ran north until he reached the Palm Beach area waterfront park, covering a total of about fifteen kilometers.
He ate two slices of ham pizza at Joisce Pizza, then continued running back.
Passing by the public pier, a pleasant guitar sound wafted through the wind, adding a touch of elegance to the early morning by the sea.
As he ran past the pier, he saw a girl in a long blue dress sitting on the redwood deck, holding a guitar, one knee curled up, the other leg dangling in the air, casually swinging, wrapped in white gauze.
Golden hair lifted by the sea breeze revealed a fair and rosy side face; it was Taylor Swift whom he had seen yesterday. She was staying at the Hyatt Grand Hotel in Palm Beach, not far from here.
"Hi, Link!"
The girl suddenly turned her head, flashing him a smile.
"Hi!"
Link waved, slowing down his pace, and asked, "The wind is strong here, want to go sit inside the store?"
"Sure!"
Taylor nodded, set down her guitar, and, holding onto the railing, slowly stood up.
Link walked onto the pier, helped her with her guitar case, and held her arm with one hand.
Back at the store, Link had showered, changed into fresh clothes, and cooked two steaks and squeezed two glasses of orange juice in the kitchen, which he took to the storefront.
Taylor, with her leg propped up, sat in the beach chair playing the guitar, with manuscript paper and a pen on the table, seemingly working on a new song. Seeing him bring over the food, Taylor put down her guitar and thanked him.
"Do you go for a run every morning, Link?"
Taylor eyed his muscular arms, which even a loose T-shirt couldn't conceal, revealing his pectorals and abs, looking incredibly sexy, which made her take a few more glances.
"Almost, unless it rains."
"I'm the same with playing guitar every day, though I prefer rainy days. Sitting behind the window watching the rain, I feel more inspired."
Taylor curved her lips, gesturing with her fork.
"Writing songs on rainy days? Sounds very atmospheric."
Link smiled, used his knife to cut the steak into pieces, and began stuffing his mouth with relentless forkfuls, swallowing an eight-hundred-gram steak within two minutes.
Since crossing over, not only had his physical condition doubled, but so had his appetite; he needed a lot of food each meal to feel full. James called him a bottomless pit.
By the time he had finished, Taylor had eaten only half of her small steak.
"I don't cook often, so the taste is average. You can leave the rest if you can't finish it."
Link said, looking at her plate.
"Not at all! It's delicious."
Taylor shook her head, her golden ponytail swaying. She gestured towards the ocean and the beach, smiling slightly, "I just find it all very romantic. Sunrise, the ocean, white beaches, palm forests, and having breakfast face-to-face with a handsome guy—it feels like I'm in a movie."
Link gave a slight laugh. It did sound nice, but he felt the greatest romance for a man was on the boxing ring, delivering a ferocious Swing Punch that knocked the opponent out completely—now that was romantic.