When Cheng Xing returned home, it was already close to ten o'clock. After taking a shower, he went to his room and turned on the computer. The house was quiet, and with nothing else to do, he decided to write.
In the previous life before his regression, there was one regret that had always haunted him: his first novel. It was written during a particularly bleak period—a time when life had thrown its worst at him, and he had poured his frustrations onto an online forum. That story, created out of despair, unexpectedly struck a chord with readers. It was later published and adapted into both a film and a TV series, gaining immense popularity.
But while the adaptations became classics, the novel itself was criticized. The writing, penned by a much younger and less experienced Cheng Xing, was clumsy and immature.
One critique still stung even after so many years:
"The movie is amazing—the youthful moments feel so real. But the novel it's based on? The writing is plain and juvenile."
For a writer, those words were a dagger. Cheng Xing often thought about how much better the novel could have been. After he gained fame, he dreamed of revising it, but his publishers dismissed the idea outright.
"Why spend time refining an old work?" they would ask. "The story will stay the same no matter how much you polish the writing. It won't generate as much profit as a new book."
Moreover, the rights to the book had been sold long ago, and from a commercial standpoint, it no longer had value as fresh intellectual property.
But An City wasn't just any book to Cheng Xing. It was his first book—the work that held the essence of his youth and carried every bit of pain and hope he had experienced in his more than twenty years of life. He had written it in pieces, pulling late nights after exhausting days. That book was a part of him.
He often thought of what Guo Baochang, the director of The Grand Mansion Gate, had once said in an interview:
"People ask me to create another masterpiece like The Grand Mansion Gate. But what they don't understand is that I poured my entire life's energy into it. I can never make another work like that."
Cheng Xing's feelings toward An City mirrored those words. If only he'd written it with more skill, he believed it could have achieved even greater success. But life had not given him the chance to revisit it—until now.
The novel wasn't long, just around 200,000 words. It was a story steeped in nostalgia, tracing Cheng Xing's own life: his childhood in the countryside, his father's failed investments that drove the family into debt, and his mother's failing health due to years of overwork.
The most poignant part of the story was set during his high school years in An City. It captured Cheng Xing's unforgettable high school years—the innocence and awkwardness of his infatuation with Chen Qing, the recklessness and struggles of youth in An City, and the hardships he endured after his family's fall from grace and his mother's illness.
It had been years since Cheng Xing first wrote those words. Now, with the perspective of someone in their thirties and the opportunity to relive this era firsthand, he was confident he could create something more refined—something that truly captured the beauty and pain of those days.
That night, Cheng Xing opened a blank document and began typing.
By the time he went to bed, Cheng Xing had written over a thousand words, revising each line carefully. It was just the opening, but he felt a renewed sense of purpose.
Time moved quickly, and soon it was Friday evening. For day students, the last self-study session on Friday marked the start of their weekend. However, boarding students still had a self-study session on Saturday mornings, and a few diligent day students would also attend.
"Brother Cheng, are you going online later?" Zhou Yuan asked as the class ended. "I'm staying up all night."
"No," Cheng Xing replied, packing his books.
"Tomorrow then? Are you coming to the internet café? Saturdays are crazy crowded, but I can reserve a computer for you if you want."
Cheng Xing shook his head with a faint smile. "I'll be reviewing tomorrow."
Zhou Yuan gaped. "Seriously? Reviewing? Brother Cheng, are you actually planning to study?"
A few weeks ago, Zhou Yuan would have laughed at the mere idea. Cheng Xing had always been the type to skip self-study sessions and avoid anything remotely resembling academic effort. But this week, he had been a different person. He hadn't skipped a single class, attended every self-study session, and even stayed for the lunch-hour study periods.
"Why would I lie to you?" Cheng Xing said, slinging his bag over his shoulder. "You done packing?"
"All set," Zhou Yuan said, still looking unconvinced.
"Let's go home."
The next morning, Cheng Xing woke up early. Outside, a light drizzle fell, bringing a chill to the air. He zipped up his jacket, grabbed an umbrella, and made his way to school.
The corridors buzzed with the sound of students reciting aloud. As Cheng Xing stepped into the classroom, heads turned, and a wave of murmurs swept through the room.
Even Chen Qing looked up from her desk, surprise flickering in her eyes.
"Is the sun rising in the west today?" Wang Yan, sitting beside her, whispered loudly.
"Is that Cheng Xing?" another girl asked, her voice filled with disbelief.
For the students of Class Three, seeing Cheng Xing attend Saturday morning self-study was like witnessing a once-in-a-lifetime event. Even Jiang Luxi, who was usually calm and reserved, glanced up from her book, her beautiful eyes filled with curiosity.
The disbelief wasn't limited to his classmates. Even Mr. Zheng Hua, who had just stepped into the classroom, paused mid-step.
"What are you doing here?" the teacher asked, raising an eyebrow.
"Here for self-study, teacher," Cheng Xing replied with a smile. "The rain slowed me down a bit, but I made it."
Mr. Zheng looked him over for a moment, his expression unreadable. Finally, he nodded. "Take your seat."
Cheng Xing nodded and walked to his usual spot, ignoring the curious stares of his classmates.
As the session began, the sound of rustling papers and murmured recitations filled the room. Outside, the rain continued to fall, but inside, Cheng Xing felt a quiet determination.
This time, he wasn't just going through the motions. He was here to truly change.