Chapter 1: The Gift
Songhai City.
At 7:30 in the morning, in a dimly lit room, on a soft bed, Zhang Yuanqing suddenly woke up, clutching his head, curling up like a shrimp.
His head felt like it was about to split open, as if steel needles were embedded in his brain. The pain made his scalp twitch, causing hallucinations and auditory distortions. His mind was flooded with chaotic images, and his ears were filled with meaningless noise.
Zhang Yuanqing knew his old ailment had returned.
Trembling, he crawled out of bed, pulled open the nightstand drawer, and fumbled for a bottle of pills with shaky hands. He impatiently unscrewed the lid, poured out five or six small blue tablets, and swallowed them all at once.
Then, he collapsed back onto the bed, gasping for air, enduring the excruciating pain.
After more than ten seconds, the soul-tearing headache gradually subsided and eventually faded away.
"Phew…" Zhang Yuanqing let out a breath of relief, his forehead drenched in cold sweat.
Back in high school, he had developed a strange illness. The symptoms included his brain uncontrollably recalling every memory from his past, including long-forgotten trivial details; involuntarily collecting and analyzing external information; and achieving an almost supernatural level of control over his own body.
Fortunately, this state never lasted long—it would always be interrupted when his body could no longer bear the burden.
Because of this ability, he had effortlessly gained admission to Songhai University—one of the nation's top institutions.
Zhang Yuanqing called this condition "brain overload." He believed he might be evolving into a superhuman, but his body couldn't support such evolution, causing frequent disruptions.
When he shared this theory with his doctor, the doctor admitted he didn't understand but was deeply shocked. He then suggested Zhang Yuanqing visit the psychiatric department downstairs.
Ultimately, the hospital couldn't identify the cause of his illness. Later, his mother brought back a special medication from abroad, which finally helped control his condition. As long as he took the pills regularly, he wouldn't have an episode.
"It must be because I didn't get enough rest last night—too tired. All Jiang Yuer's fault for insisting on coming to my room to play games in the middle of the night..."
Although he muttered this complaint, deep down, he felt a sense of unease. Zhang Yuanqing knew the medication's effectiveness was starting to weaken, and his condition was worsening.
"I'll have to increase the dosage..." Zhang Yuanqing slipped on his cotton slippers and walked to the window, pulling open the curtains with a swish.
Sunlight rushed in eagerly, filling the entire room.
It was April in Songhai City—spring was in full bloom, and the morning breeze was refreshingly cool.
"Knock knock!"
A knock came at the door, followed by his grandmother's voice:
"Yuanzi, time to get up."
"Not getting up!" Zhang Yuanqing coldly refused. He wanted to go back to sleep.
The sun was shining, it was the weekend—how could he waste such a perfect opportunity to sleep in?
"I'll give you three minutes. If you don't get up, I'll wake you up with a bucket of water."
His grandmother was even colder.
"Okay, okay..." Zhang Yuanqing immediately surrendered.
He knew his hot-tempered grandmother would actually do it.
Back when he was in elementary school, his father had passed away in a car accident. His strong-willed mother never remarried and instead brought him back to Songhai to live with his grandparents while she focused entirely on her career.
Although his mother later bought her own house, Zhang Yuanqing preferred staying with his grandparents rather than living in a cold, empty apartment.
After all, his mother was always working—leaving early, coming home late, frequently traveling for business. Even on weekends, she either worked overtime or ordered takeout at mealtimes.
The thing she said to him most often was, "Do you have enough money? If not, tell Mom."
Having a mother who could financially support him without limits sounded great, but Zhang Yuanqing would always smile and say, "Grandma and Aunt give me enough allowance."
Oh, and his little aunt too.
The same little aunt who had insisted on playing games in his room last night.
Zhang Yuanqing yawned, turned the doorknob, and walked into the living room.
His grandparents' home was a 150-square-meter apartment, including shared areas. When they sold their old house to buy this place, he remembered the price was over 40,000 yuan per square meter.
In the six or seven years since, the price had doubled to 110,000 yuan per square meter.
Fortunately, his grandfather had foresight. If they had stayed in the old house, Zhang Yuanqing would have had to sleep in the living room—after all, he was too grown up now to share a room with his little aunt.
At the dining table, the culprit of his headache was sipping porridge, her pink slippers sw