Normally, when this little lady, who's basically a great-grandmother level of old school, speaks, it's like the final word. But today, someone's got a bone to pick.
"You can't say it like that. I'm counting on him to take us to the high life—fancy food, good drinks. But instead, it's all steamed buns and noodles, or stir-fried meat with pancakes. How are we supposed to survive this?"
"Don't talk about double tens," she continued. "Look at Qiu Keke—he's barely 10 and he's already better than all of us in math and science. Except for Old Cheng, we couldn't even compete with him if we added all our brains together! And when has he ever caused trouble for anyone?"
"I'm with Tianlin," she added, "Bufan's reckless and lazy. I think we should vote on a new leader!"
Jian Chunhui, cradling his belly in a mock-pout, looked like he was about to throw a tantrum.
"I disagree. This is destiny—voting is just unrealistic," the woman in the red dress drawled, resting her chin lazily in her hand.
Jian Chunhui's face soured. But as a magician, even if he had a few guts, he wasn't about to anger an international thief with a killer boyfriend. He turned to the others. "What do you two think?"
Qiu Keke, with cotton stuffed in his ears, sat in the corner absorbed in quantum physics.
Aman, his long ears brushing his back as he lay on Qiu Keke's lap, was happily munching on a carrot.
Tianlin sighed. "Fine. If that's how it is, I'll respect everyone's opinion. Meeting dismissed!"
Jian Chunhui, wearing his top hat, adjusted his bowtie with a forlorn look and, in a fit of frustration, conjured up a soft mousse cake, stuffing it into his mouth with an almost reckless abandon.
The ceilingless conference room instantly transformed into a spacious living room, the meeting table turning into a dining table, and the chairs into comfortable sofas.
Two votes in favor, four against, and two abstentions—just like always, no big deal.
The black mist wrapped everything, slowly dissipating into the depths of Bufan's pupils.
He grinned and sighed.
It was tough. His mind was constantly flooded with voices from all these different personalities.
Others seemed fine with it, but the CEO and the foodie were especially demanding, always whispering in his ear, constantly pushing him.
Study harder, improve yourself, don't curse, don't fight, read more, make more money, eat better...
And if you can't even do that, you'll be fired... Standing there, it was easy to talk.
Could any of them last an hour with this pressure?
In this environment, if I can still get into university, I might as well be a genius!
If it weren't for all your interference, wouldn't I be flying high by now? Wouldn't I be shoulder to shoulder with the sun?
As for fighting? As the old saying goes—if they don't mess with me, I won't mess with them. But if they come at me, I'll make them regret it.
But this was something he could never say aloud. If he did, they'd probably send him straight to a psychiatric hospital.
Bufan knew this was textbook schizophrenia, but since he had absolute control over his body, it didn't bother him much.
"Bufan!"
Teacher Chen snapped, her voice filled with frustration. "Are you even listening? Look at what you did to those kids!"
And this guy was still grinning? Teacher Chen's patience was running out.
"Teacher Chen, are you kidding? They were bullying my brother, I was just trying to reason with them. You saw it yourself, there were at least ten of them, and they started it first! I was just defending myself!"
Teacher Chen twitched her eye and the image of those little brats with their skulls cracked open flashed in her mind.
"You think I don't know what you're up to? If you really wanted to run, none of them would have caught you, right? Did you break the school's 100-meter record or something?"
Bufan rolled his eyes. "If the police didn't arrest me, doesn't that say it all? Why don't you just hand me over to them? They seem to be pretty reasonable."
"You—"
Teacher Chen forced a calm breath, then spoke softly, "I've heard about your past, and I get that your temper can be... unpredictable. But you're still a student."
"I was a kid back then. No memories, okay?"
...
Ten minutes later, Bufan casually walked out of the office, pushing open the door with a swagger.
Thirteen against one, and they threw the first punch. He didn't even have time to throw a decent meal together because of this.
Since there were no cameras at that filthy place, who would believe him if he said they attacked first?
Bufan made his way down the street, the makeshift bike rattling with a chorus of clanking parts.
Steamed buns and noodles or stir-fried meat with pancakes? That's a real brain-buster.
Suddenly, an electric scooter sped out from a side street.
Neither he nor the girl had time to react, and they both fell in front of a speeding truck.
Game over.
...
The expected sharp pain never came. Bufan blinked, looking around and realizing he had somehow ended up in another world.
But... why am I so tall? And why is it so hard to breathe?
It took him a second to realize he was dangling from a doorframe.
He tried to stretch his legs, barely managing to tap the ground, but it wasn't enough.
His hands fumbled at the rope, only tightening it further.
Grinning, sticking out his tongue, his hands waving futilely in the air, he embodied a phrase—death's struggle.
But the next moment, his grimace faded, his expression turning calm and even a bit alluring.
With a swift pull, he lifted himself up, bracing his feet against the wall and the side of the cupboard. He grabbed the doorframe behind him with one hand.
A quick thrust of his waist, and he swung his body around, slowly pulling his head out of the noose.
He landed lightly on the ground.
Then, with a grimace, he was back to his usual self.
This kind of situation? He wasn't equipped to handle it. He had to call on Ji Shuyun for help.
The life of a thief—escapes were definitely more his thing than dealing with school drama.
This was a strange room, and Bufan massaged his neck. Wait a second... I've been reincarnated.
A knock on the door.
He opened it to find a girl, about fifteen or sixteen, in a blue-gray tight T-shirt, floral skirt, and simple white shoes—youthful and casual.
"Bufan, let's go. It's time for school."
Huh? Did she just call me Bufan? Is this my original self's name?
"Oh." Bufan grabbed the copper lock hanging from the windowsill, locked the door, and walked out behind the girl, confused.
Two rows of small houses, a narrow alley.
Looking at the black-and-white TV and the old furniture inside, it was clear—he had traveled back decades.
Old men chatting with fans, kids playing in the alley—this was as ordinary as it was surreal.
At the entrance of a house ahead, there were two bamboo carts, each with a toddler sitting in it.
Two mothers stood nearby, gossiping and laughing.
The two little boys, wearing bibs and little cloth shoes, were too cute for words, and Bufan couldn't help but glance at them.
One of the boys tried to snatch an apple from the other. The second boy resisted, mumbling, then shoved him.
The apple snatcher got frustrated and slapped the other boy.
To Bufan's shock, a silvery glow enveloped the hand of the boy, faint but clear.
The other boy's foot glowed white too as he kicked out.
There was a loud boom as their punch and kick collided, the two bamboo carts sliding apart.
One of the boys coughed up a white, frothy substance, crying out, "You made me spit up my milk!"
Bufan's heart sank. What kind of kids are these?!
But the two mothers just glanced over, covered their mouths and giggled, then went back to chatting.
Bufan stared, wide-eyed, at the girl beside him.
Is this normal?
"You've never seen kids fight before?" The girl shot him a puzzled look. "Hurry up, today's the day we get our abilities and cultivation techniques. If we're late, Teacher Hu's going to flip out!"