By the time the lectures began to wind down, the entire campus seemed to sag under a shared exhaustion.
The earlier excitement had dulled into a low, restless hum. Fans whirred lazily overhead, doing little to ease the heat that clung stubbornly to the lecture halls. The whiteboards were filled with half-erased notes, diagrams smudged from repeated use, and the faint screech of markers against the board had long since lost its sharpness, now blending into the background like a tired echo.
Students shifted in their seats.
Some leaned back with their eyes half-closed, pretending to listen. Others scribbled aimlessly in notebooks, their handwriting deteriorating into meaningless lines. A few had already surrendered, heads resting on folded arms, drifting somewhere between sleep and consciousness.
Even the lecturers were not spared.
Though they tried to maintain composure—standing straight, voice steady, expression professional—the fatigue showed. Their shoulders drooped slightly when they thought no one noticed. Their voices, once firm and commanding, occasionally faltered, thinning under the weight of hours spent speaking.
Still, they continued. Because that was their role.
And the students… endured. Because that was theirs.
Amidst all of this, Lian Yu sat quietly, his posture relaxed yet composed, as if the exhaustion around him had nothing to do with him. His gaze drifted occasionally—not to the board, not to the lecturer—but to the people seated nearby.
And what struck him as strange—almost unsettling—was how easily things fell back into place.
He and Luo… got along.
Just like before.
Luo was exactly as he remembered—cheerful, lively, effortlessly social. The kind of person who could strike up a conversation with anyone and make it feel natural. His laughter came easily, his expressions animated, his presence warm in a way that drew people in without resistance.
It was familiar. Too familiar.
For a moment, it almost felt like nothing had changed.
Luo leaned forward slightly, his attention caught by someone ahead. His face lit up with recognition, and he smiled—bright, easy.
"We really met again?" he said.
Following his line of sight, Lian Yu's gaze landed on her.
Sujiang.
She sat there with a gentle smile, her posture slightly reserved, her expression carrying that same delicate softness he once found irresistible.
"What a coincidence, isn't it," she replied lightly.
That smile.That tone.
Lian Yu's expression darkened almost imperceptibly. If possible, he thought coldly, he would ensure that this person never found a good ending. That she would fall into the hands of someone just like herself—a manipulative fool paired with another. Let them ruin each other.
It would be fitting.
"You know each other?" he asked, his voice carefully neutral.
Luo turned to him, still smiling. "Not really," he said. "She bumped into a really inconvenient guy on her way here, and I happened to pass by."
Bumped.
The word struck something deep inside Lian Yu.
His gaze shifted slowly to Sujiang.
That single word carried too much weight.
A bump.
That was how it started last time too.
A small, seemingly harmless moment that spiraled into something far more destructive. A coincidence that led to familiarity, familiarity that led to closeness, and closeness that blurred the lines he should never have crossed.
That bump had led him straight into the abyss.
Into betrayal. Into loss. Into a life he could never take back.
And now, hearing it again—
It felt filthy.
He realized then, with a bitter clarity, that not everyone was like him. Not everyone was weak enough to lose control.
Not everyone would throw away something priceless for something fleeting.
He had been the problem.
He had been the one who couldn't hold himself back. The one who failed to see the woman who loved him fully—someone more beautiful, more genuine, someone willing to give everything for him.
Ciao Ren.
The thought flickered through his mind—but it was quickly overshadowed by the sight before him.
Sujiang's face was slightly flushed, her expression caught between embarrassment and composure. To anyone else, it might have looked endearing.
To him—It was repulsive.
"Guess acting fragile is for fools, by the way," Lian Yu said casually.
The words fell lightly—but the edge beneath them was sharp.
Luo blinked, clearly caught off guard, but said nothing. Sujiang froze for a brief second.
Her cheeks flushed deeper, the color spreading across her face like ink in water. She didn't need clarification. The words were directed at her.
And yet—she remained silent. That silence only fueled him.
A low, humorless laugh escaped Lian Yu as he leaned back slightly, his gaze sweeping over her with deliberate scrutiny.
"It's disturbing," he continued, voice laced with exaggerated disdain, "how some people think having a cute face gives them the right to bump into others on purpose." He wrinkled his nose faintly. "That's just shameless. Disgusting, honestly."
The words were harsh. Unnecessarily so.
Luo shifted slightly, clearly uncomfortable now, his usual cheer dimming as he glanced between the two.
Sujiang, on the other hand, stood there—stunned. She didn't understand.
Why was he targeting her?
From her perspective, this was their first meeting. She had done nothing to provoke such hostility. And yet, his words cut through her with precision, as though he knew her—judged her—without cause.
And still…
When their eyes met, his lips curved into a faint smile. Gentle. Almost polite.
It didn't match the cruelty of his words at all.
To her, it only made things more confusing.
Was he mocking her?
Or was she misunderstanding everything?
Around them, the lecture hall continued its slow descent into fatigue—students packing their bags, chairs scraping against the floor, voices rising again as the day edged toward its end.
But for Lian Yu, the air had shifted. Because this time—
He would not fall again.
___
A year passed—quietly, almost cruelly fast.
Time, which had once dragged like a punishment in Lian Yu's previous life, now slipped through his fingers like water. Days blurred into weeks, and weeks into months, until the unfamiliar rhythm of this "second chance" began to feel dangerously normal.
Too normal.
He almost hated that.Because forgetting—even for a moment—felt like betrayal.
And yet, life did not pause for grief.
Classes continued. Seasons shifted. The campus trees shed their leaves and grew them back again. New students arrived with the same bright-eyed excitement he had once carried, while seniors left with a mixture of relief and quiet fear of the future.
And somewhere within all of that—Luo became his constant.
They were inseparable.
Not in the soft, sentimental way people imagined best friends to be—but in a way that felt loud, chaotic, and oddly unbreakable. Like fire and water. Like cat and mouse. They argued over the smallest things, mocked each other relentlessly, and yet somehow always ended up side by side.
If Luo was light—easygoing, warm, effortlessly liked—
Then Lian Yu was the shadow trailing behind him, sharp-edged and unpredictable.
And yet, they worked.
—
That night, the city buzzed with a restless energy.
Neon lights flickered above crowded streets, reflecting off glass windows and damp pavement. The air carried the faint mix of grilled meat, cigarette smoke, and laughter spilling out from late-night shops.
Inside a karaoke room tucked along a noisy street, chaos reigned.
Music blasted loudly from the speakers, slightly off-beat, slightly distorted. The screen flashed lyrics in bright, shifting colors while cheap disco lights painted the walls in erratic streaks of red and blue.
Luo sat comfortably on the couch, one arm draped lazily over the backrest, watching the spectacle before him with poorly concealed amusement.
Because Lian Yu—
Was a disaster.
Completely drunk, completely off-key, and completely unaware.
He stood in the middle of the room, microphone clutched like it was the most important thing in his life, swaying dangerously from side to side as he belted out lyrics with far more emotion than accuracy.
His voice cracked. Missed notes entirely.
Then somehow landed on the wrong key altogether.
Luo bit down hard on his lip, his shoulders trembling as he tried—tried—to hold back his laughter.
It was impossible.
If Luo was a perfect hundred—refined, composed, effortlessly talented—
Then Lian Yu was the exact opposite.
Unfiltered. Chaotic. Embarrassingly sincere.
Well… except for one thing.
His face.
That, Lian Yu still held onto with ridiculous pride.
Even now, mid-disaster, hair slightly disheveled and expression far too intense for the song he was ruining, he still managed to look… annoyingly good.
At some point, even Lian Yu himself had begun to question it.
Was Luo even human?
If this were one of those ridiculous novels, he thought bitterly, Luo would definitely be the kind of male lead people would envy to the point of insanity.
The kind that made others want to throw acid—
He paused mid-thought, then scoffed internally.
Ridiculous.
Still… in his next life, he silently vowed, he would line up first when the creator was handing out good looks.
There was no way he would let Luo cut in front of him again.
Truly unfair.
But then again—
Lian Yu was just stupid.
No need to think too deeply about it.
—
After the karaoke session ended, the night air hit them like a cool wave. Lian Yu, still slightly unsteady, suggested they head to a bathhouse.
Luo agreed.
And surprisingly—it helped.
—
The bathhouse was quiet compared to the chaos outside. Warm steam filled the air, curling softly upward and blurring the edges of the tiled room. The faint scent of soap and minerals lingered, clean and calming. Water rippled gently in the large pool, reflecting the soft yellow lights above.
The moment Lian Yu sank into the hot water, a long breath escaped him.
His muscles loosened.
The tension he carried—so constant he barely noticed it anymore—began to melt away.
For a brief moment, it felt like everything inside him had been drained out and washed away.
The guilt..The anger. The suffocating weight of memory.
He closed his eyes slightly, letting the warmth seep into his bones.
Beside him, Luo leaned back against the edge of the pool, arms spread casually, his expression relaxed—but thoughtful.
After a while, he spoke.
"You seem… strange when it comes to Sujiang," Luo said, his voice quieter than usual. "Gentle one moment. Hostile the next. Why?"
The words cut through the calm. Lian Yu's eyes opened immediately.
The haze of alcohol—whatever remained of it—vanished completely.
He was sober.
Completely.
The hot water had done its job. For a moment, he said nothing.
Ripples spread outward from where his fingers moved slightly beneath the water's surface.
"Sujiang?" he repeated.
Then, without looking at Luo, he asked, "Do you want something to happen between us?"
Luo snorted lightly. "No. But…" He paused, choosing his words carefully. "You have this… feeling. Like something you're holding back. Honestly? Sometimes I feel like you might kill her if you let it out." Luo said it casually. But there was truth beneath it.
And as always—
He hadn't changed. Observant. Sharp. And yet… simple in his own way.
Lian Yu let out a quiet breath.
"If I told you she's a devil," he said slowly, "would you believe me?"
Luo tilted his head slightly. "In what sense?"
There was a pause.
The steam seemed thicker now. Heavier.
"I had a dream," Lian Yu said finally, his voice dropping. "A dangerous one." His gaze lowered to the water.
"In that dream… getting close to her ruined everything. I died miserably." He let out a faint, humorless chuckle.
"So now, I treat her like that. Kind sometimes. Cold other times." His tone was light.
But something underneath it wasn't.
Something heavy. Tired. Almost… broken.
Because it wasn't just a dream. It was memory.
And every time he brushed against it—even lightly—it drained him. Made the world feel unstable. Like at any moment, the ground beneath him might crack open and drag him back to that empty house.That silent, suffocating place where nothing lived anymore.
Luo stared at him for a second.
Then—
He laughed. Not cruelly. Not mockingly.
Just… genuinely amused.
"You judged her based on a dream?" he said, shaking his head slightly, a smile tugging at his lips.
Lian Yu sighed softly. Of course.
How could he believe something like that?
Even Lian Yu himself found it absurd.
"…Yeah," he murmured. "Even I think it's ridiculous."
And yet—
Here he was. Living in it.
A moment of silence settled between them.
The water rippled gently. Then Luo shifted slightly, sensing the heaviness creeping in, and decided—like he always did—to pull things back.
"I heard something," he said, casually changing the subject. "Starting tomorrow, the theater arts department and the business department are pairing classes for two months."
Lian Yu's eyes flickered slightly.
The calm surface of the water reflected his expression—quiet, unreadable.
Because deep down—
He knew. This wasn't just another arrangement. This… was another turning point.
___
It did. The change of topic really did changed his mood.
The moment Luo finished speaking, something in Lian Yu went rigid—so subtly that anyone else might have missed it. But inside him, it was as if a thread had been pulled too tight, snapping something loose in his mind.
For a second, the words didn't register.
They floated, distant and weightless.
Then—
They crashed. This was the day.
The day everything had begun in his previous life. The day the theater arts department and the business department were paired. The day he and Ciao Ren were forced into proximity, into conversation, into something that would slowly grow into love.
The beginning of everything.
And eventually—
The beginning of the end.
His fingers twitched slightly beneath the water, sending faint ripples across the surface. He forced himself to remain still, forced his voice into something calm—something normal.
"Why?" he asked, carefully, as if the question held no weight. "Is there any big event happening?"
Luo, oblivious to the storm brewing beside him, answered easily. "Yeah. Three months from now, the school's celebrating its 25th anniversary. Silver jubilee and all that. They want it to be perfect."
He leaned back slightly, resting his arms along the edge of the bath. "So the board decided to mix departments. Theater arts with business. We're supposed to understand each other's fields and perform some kind of drama related to it."
Lian Yu didn't respond immediately.
The steam curled lazily around them, warm and suffocating, but it suddenly felt hard to breathe.
He asked again, quieter this time, "Is it just our departments?"
"I don't think so," Luo shrugged. "I only paid attention to ours. But I heard literature and history are merging too. Not sure about the rest."
History and literature.
Lian Yu's gaze dropped slightly. He remembered.
In his past life, those two departments had delivered one of the most unforgettable performances—something that had lingered in his mind long after the event ended. It had been one of the rare moments he genuinely appreciated art.
Back then… everything had still been intact.
Then—
Something clicked. Sharp. Sudden. Violent.
Tomorrow.
The class arrangement. The pairing. The date.
His heart skipped.
No!
It didn't skip. It slammed.
"What date is tomorrow?" he thought, the question echoing louder than it should.
Beside him, Luo noticed the shift.
"What's wrong?" he asked, his tone laced with mild concern. "You don't seem excited."
Lian Yu shook his head quickly, his movements slightly stiff.
"No… I'm just thinking," he said, forcing the words out. "Tomorrow isn't the 24th of June, right?"
Luo blinked at him, confused. "It is. Why? Didn't you read the notice board?"
For a brief moment—relief flooded him.
"It's the 25th…" he murmured under his breath.
But the moment the words left his lips, everything stopped. The world seemed to freeze.
The steam. The water. Even his own breathing.
Then—
It hit him.
"24th?" he repeated slowly. His head snapped up. "Tomorrow is the 24th?"
A memory surfaced—clear, brutal, unforgiving.
The 23rd.Today. Today was the day.
Color drained from his face so quickly it was almost frightening."Then today is the 23rd?"
His voice was no longer calm.
It trembled.
Luo frowned, unsettled now. "Yeah… so what—"
"Luo," Lian Yu cut in sharply, his voice tight, urgent. "What time is it?" Something in his expression made Luo pause.
A flicker of unease crossed his face.
"Why?" he asked cautiously. "What happened?"
"Just tell me!" Lian Yu snapped.
The sudden outburst startled him. Luo quickly glanced at his waterproof wristwatch. "…9:30 p.m."
For a second—silence.
Then Lian Yu moved.
It was so abrupt, so fast, it barely registered as movement. One moment he was in the water—the next, he was out of it, the surface still rippling violently from where he had been.
He didn't think. Didn't process. Didn't explain. Clothes clung awkwardly to his damp skin as he dragged them on in a blur of motion, fingers fumbling, movements rushed and uncoordinated.
"How—?" Luo started, completely thrown off. "Hey! What are you—?!"
But Lian Yu was already gone.
Barely dressed. Hair still dripping. Water trailing behind him with every step. He burst out of the bathhouse into the night, the cool air hitting his skin like a slap—but he didn't feel it.
Didn't hear it. Didn't see anything.
The neon lights blurred into streaks. The laughter of strangers faded into meaningless noise. Someone shouted something as he ran past, another laughed at his disheveled state—but it all dissolved into nothing.
Because none of it mattered.
Nothing—
Except this. Thirty minutes. That was all he had. Thirty minutes before everything he had lost—everything he had buried—was taken from him again.
His mother. His sister. That night.
That night he had failed them. That night he had been too late. Not this time.
His lungs burned as he ran, his chest tightening painfully with every breath. His legs moved faster than he thought possible, pushing past their limits, driven by something far stronger than exhaustion.
Fear.
Desperation.
And a promise carved into his soul.
"I won't let it happen again," he repeated silently, over and over, like a prayer. "Not this time. Not again."
The streets stretched endlessly before him, each second slipping away like grains of sand.
But he didn't slow down.Couldn't. Because ahead—was home.
The place that had once been filled with warmth. With laughter. With life. The place that had turned into a graveyard of memories.
And this time—He would not arrive too late.