"Why are you home so late?" Cheng Chuan asked, his brow furrowed. "Didn't you think about how worried your mom would be?"
Deng Ying was usually the optimistic one in the family, which often left Cheng Chuan to play the role of the disciplinarian. Cheng Xing had returned later than usual that evening. Even after dropping Chen Qing off, he could have been home earlier. It was no wonder Deng Ying had been anxious.
Ordinarily, this might not have been such a big deal, but recent campus tragedies in China had heightened Deng Ying's caution. With Cheng Xing out late, her worry had grown, gnawing at her.
"I'm sorry, Mom and Dad, for making you worry," Cheng Xing apologized, his tone unusually sincere.
He had lingered after school, chatting with Gao Hai and a few others. On his walk home, he had strolled at a leisurely pace, soaking in the familiar yet subtly changed sights of Ancheng. This unhurried return was why he had arrived so late.
Both Cheng Chuan and Deng Ying froze, astonished by Cheng Xing's apology. It was completely unlike him. In the past, he would have argued back, deflecting their concerns rather than owning up to them.
Deng Ying quickly offered an explanation, attempting to downplay her earlier worry. "Maybe Chen Qing's parents kept him for a while after he dropped her off."
"Yeah, your mom gets anxious when you're late," Cheng Chuan added, his tone softening. "From now on, try to come home earlier. Take a shower and get some rest after school."
"Okay, Mom and Dad. You both have work tomorrow, so make sure you get to bed early too," Cheng Xing replied, his voice steady.
Deng Ying smiled, her worry melting into fondness. "Alright, alright. Goodnight."
As Cheng Xing headed to the bathroom to change, his parents exchanged puzzled glances.
"Is this really our son?" Deng Ying whispered.
"He's growing up," Cheng Chuan said, a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips.
After his shower, Cheng Xing went to bed, but his mind was restless. Too much had happened that day. He needed time to process everything.
The next morning, Cheng Xing sat on the edge of his bed, feeling a wave of nausea. Morning sickness. It took him a few moments to steady himself before standing. To confirm his reality, he pinched his arm. The sharp sting brought a smile to his lips.
Though the previous day had felt vividly real, a part of him had feared it was all just a dream. The pain reminded him it wasn't.
After brushing his teeth and washing his face, Cheng Xing moved quietly through the house, careful not to wake his parents. He had plans, but as he opened the door, the sound stirred his mother.
"Is that you, Cheng Xing?" Deng Ying called sleepily.
"Yeah, Mom. Go back to sleep," he replied.
"Why are you up so early?" she asked, glancing at the clock. It was barely past five.
"I couldn't sleep," Cheng Xing answered honestly.
It was true—he couldn't. Having returned to this pivotal point in his life, Cheng Xing was eager to re-experience the world with fresh eyes. His enthusiasm was almost childlike, brimming with the excitement of rediscovery.
"Wait," Deng Ying said, moving to grab her purse. "Let me give you some pocket money."
"No need, Mom. I still have enough," Cheng Xing said, trying to wave her off.
"You're in your third year of high school, and this is the time to build good relationships with your classmates. Take a little extra," Deng Ying insisted.
"Mom, really, I'm fine. Go back to sleep. I'll be careful," Cheng Xing reassured her. Without waiting for a reply, he slipped out and closed the door gently behind him.
The sky was still dark, the air cool and crisp. Despite the early hour, Cheng Xing felt wide awake.
He had a clear destination in mind: the bun stall near Ancheng No. 1 High School. As a northerner, noodles and buns were his comfort food. That stall, in particular, held a special place in his heart. During his previous life's high school reunion, he had gone looking for it, only to learn the owner had retired years ago.
Walking along the dimly lit streets, Cheng Xing's stomach growled. He hadn't eaten since the previous afternoon, and the memory of those buns had his mouth watering.
By the time he reached the street outside No. 1 High School, the area was already bustling. Food stalls lined both sides, their tantalizing aromas filling the air. However, it was still early, and most students hadn't yet arrived.
Cheng Xing found the stall he remembered so fondly. The owner and his wife were busy with preparations, but there were no other customers yet. He took a seat.
"What would you like?" the owner asked, smiling as he wiped his hands on his apron.
"Two meat buns, two vegetable buns—one with vermicelli and one with tofu—and a bowl of soy milk," Cheng Xing said, his voice warm with familiarity.
The owner nodded, quickly assembling the order. Within minutes, a steamer lid was lifted, and fragrant buns were placed before Cheng Xing. A bowl of steaming soy milk followed.
Cheng Xing added a splash of chili oil to a small dish and dipped his first bun. The taste was just as he remembered—delicious and satisfying. He devoured the meal, savoring each bite, and washed it down with the now-cooled soy milk. It was the best breakfast he'd had in years.
After paying, Cheng Xing strolled toward the school. He was early—too early. The classroom doors were locked, and the usual hum of recitations was absent.
He leaned against the corridor railing, gazing at the familiar campus. A light breeze passed through, cutting the lingering summer heat. This spot had always been his favorite. From here, he could see much of the school and feel a sense of peace.
Movement below caught his eye. A lone figure pedaled toward the school gate. Cheng Xing squinted and recognized her—Jiang Luxi. She was balancing books in one hand as she pushed her bicycle into the shed.
Cheng Xing checked his watch. It was only 5:30. If she had ridden her bike for an hour to get here, she must have woken up around 4:00 AM.
Her dedication stunned him. In his past life, Jiang Luxi had achieved great success, and now, seeing her routine, he understood why. Her persistence and discipline weren't traits that just anyone could emulate.
Cheng Xing leaned on the railing, watching quietly as she locked her bike and climbed the stairs, a few books cradled in her arms.