2002.

Chen Kuo was indeed her boss, but he would only become her boss ten years later.

High school classmates rarely gathered, and contact was infrequent. However, before she returned to Jiangzhou, she often heard news about him. In their senior year, he declined early admission offers, as those schools were not his top choice. He performed as expected on the national college entrance exam, and the two best universities in Beijing extended offers to him. He majored in a prestigious program and, even before graduating, started a business with like-minded friends. Later, he returned to Jiangzhou, where a series of favorable local policies helped his company thrive. He quickly rose to become a well-known young tech entrepreneur.

When she submitted her resume, she hadn’t paid much attention. It wasn’t until several days after passing the interview and starting work that she realized her boss was her high school classmate.

However, she was just an ordinary employee, and he was the boss. They had no real interaction at work.

Occasionally, they would encounter each other in the break room, and he would only nod to her calmly.

It was quite a coincidence.

The last familiar person she saw before her rebirth was actually him. Near the end of the year, she became busy too, working overtime past eight o’clock. She met him in the elevator—she was going down to the first floor, and he was heading to the underground parking on level B1. She greeted him with “Mr. Chen,” and he smiled slightly in response.

Thankfully, the elevator was fast. She hadn’t even swallowed her breath when she bumped into her ex-boyfriend, who was trying to win her back.

There was pulling and tugging, an overwhelming annoyance.

Trying to avoid his embrace, she stepped back and collided with a solid chest. Frightened, she turned around and was even more shocked to see it was her boss. His hand rested on her shoulder, pulling her away. He spoke to her ex, stating that she was his employee and warning that if the harassment continued, he would call the police immediately.

After her ex left, she hurriedly thanked him.

His expression was calm as he reminded her to stay safe. After watching him drive away, she quickly went home, took a shower, and shared the incident with Dai Jia, who was supporting her pregnancy.

Dai Jia had also been a top student and knew Chen Kuo better than she did: “He’s really a great guy. He’s the most successful person from our class, but he’s never been arrogant. Truly a good person.”

She teased, “A total winner in life~”

Dai Jia replied, “Not entirely. Every family has its own troubles. I heard from Mi Xin that his parents are constantly pressuring him to go on blind dates.”

At work, no one with a full plate had time to gossip about their boss’s private life.

Though Zhang Yunyi had only been a corporate drone for a year, she had learned to be cautious. Even with old friends, she refused to engage deeply, skillfully steering conversations away, quickly shifting topics so they soon discussed recent social news.

...

“Are you alright?” Chen Kuo asked again.

He had overslept that morning and arrived in a rush, failing to step aside in time. Seeing Zhang Yunyi hesitate and frown, he worried he might have hurt her.

Dai Jia also asked, “Zhang Yunyi, are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” Zhang Yunyi forced a smile. When she smiled, faint dimples appeared at the corners of her lips. “I just wasn’t watching where I was going.”

“Really?” Chen Kuo asked.

“Yes, really!” If he hadn’t yet worn glasses now, she might not have reacted so quickly. At this moment, he wasn’t the boss but the class monitor.

Chen Kuo didn’t press further. Glancing at his watch, he reminded her, “Morning self-study has started. Let’s get to class.”

After speaking, he brushed past her shoulder, keeping a respectful distance, then strode long-legged into the classroom.

Zhang Yunyi was still distracted but was pulled inside through the back door by Dai Jia. The school’s rule was that unless under exceptional circumstances, all seniors had to live on campus. Morning reading started at six-thirty, and evening self-study ended at ten past ten. Very few day students could endure that schedule.

At six twenty, the classroom was still somewhat empty.

When six-thirty struck, all students were neatly seated at their desks, faces lined with fatigue.

Zhang Yunyi barely remembered where she used to sit. Scanning the room, she recognized her former deskmate and, without hesitation, sat down, shoving her backpack under the desk.

Before the homeroom teacher arrived, her deskmate openly stabbed the straw into the milk carton and took a big gulp, then asked, “Have you done the chemistry practice test? Can I copy it?”

Honestly, just hearing the word “chemistry” made Zhang Yunyi want to shrink her neck like a quail.

She pulled out her textbook from the bookstand and flipped through it, then suddenly felt her vision darken.

She truly wished this was just a nightmare.

“I don’t know; you’ll have to find it yourself,” she said weakly.

Her classmate chuckled, “Bet you didn’t do it.”

Zhang Yunyi didn’t know how others felt about rebirth into senior year, but for her, this was scarier than seeing a ghost. At least ghosts wouldn’t force her to retake the college entrance exam.

Why was fate so cruel to her?

She had lived a life of kindness not to endure the torment of taking the exam twice!

“Annoying,” she muttered softly. Morning self-study had no subject restrictions, so she forced herself to flip through all the textbooks, having already covered almost all three years’ material in her first and second years. The final year was just a review led by the teachers.

She kept cheering herself on silently.

Don’t panic, don’t panic!

If this were a comic, she imagined her eyes would soon look like mosquito coils. How on earth had her brain managed to handle this before? Ten years after graduation, looking at these textbooks again, she found them utterly repulsive.

The only consolation was that she had studied all this before—not deeply enough, perhaps, but still familiar. After one session of morning self-study, although she nearly lost her life, her mind was at least a little clearer.

“Let’s go to the cafeteria!”

When the bell rang, classmates burst out like tigers released from a cage. Within a minute, more than half had dashed away. Dai Jia came over with her wallet. Zhang Yunyi had other good friends, but they weren’t in the same class. Over time, she spent more time with Dai Jia, going to the restroom together, eating in the cafeteria together.

Zhang Yunyi replied listlessly.

Even if the sky was falling, one still had to eat.

Arm in arm, they left the classroom heading toward the stairwell. Seeing her listless expression, Dai Jia said, “If you’re not feeling well, just rest in the classroom. I’ll bring you breakfast.”

“No need.”

Zhang Yunyi shook her head. Staying in the classroom felt suffocating; she preferred to get some fresh air.

The school wasn’t strict about student dress codes, as long as they didn’t wear bizarre outfits that irritated teachers or directors. Dai Jia had initially been observing Zhang Yunyi’s complexion but found her gaze lingering on her smooth forehead, clean eyebrows and eyes, straight nose. In the light, she could even see the fine fuzz on her pale, delicate cheeks. She sighed, “I really want to know what it feels like to be as pretty as you.”

Not only that, Zhang Yunyi dressed well—what people would call good style a few years later.

Even though it was just a short-sleeve shirt and jeans, it looked different on her.

Her shoes were spotless, the laces tied in a unique way.

Zhang Yunyi smiled, “Then let’s swap brains. Come on, trade your IQ for mine~”

Dai Jia laughed, “You’re not a fool. I think you just have the wrong study methods. Maybe your parents should hire a tutor for you, once a week. It really makes a difference, but it has to be a top-tier tutor. My cousin had one—some genius from Fudan University. He improved rapidly.”

Zhang Yunyi sighed, “Where can I find one?”

Nowadays, things were strict. Teachers were busy preparing lessons. Even if they had time to run tutoring classes, one complaint could get them reported. It wasn’t worth the risk.

College students were even less available. They weren’t free just because they were in university. Imagine five days a week, starting at eight in the morning—a top student with matching free time was rare on the tutoring market.

Still, she couldn’t force herself. If she struggled to keep up or couldn’t follow the teacher’s logic, she would definitely ask her parents to arrange extra help. Last time, she wasn’t a top student but not a total failure either. The truly hopeless students wouldn’t have gotten into this high school. Her bottom line was to reach at least her previous university—a matter of pride for someone who had been reborn.

They walked and talked from the teaching building toward the cafeteria, passing the basketball court.

Zhang Yunyi was still lost in sadness. Dai Jia gazed at the court and spoke with envy, “I wish I could swap brains with the class monitor. We’re all half-dead after one morning self-study session, yet he still has energy to play basketball.”

Generally, teachers gently advised seniors not to engage in strenuous sports during their final year.

An injured arm would seriously disrupt studies.

That was why the school only allowed such activities at the start of the year. If they played basketball or soccer next semester, teachers would smile sympathetically and keep an eye on them.

Hearing Dai Jia’s words, Zhang Yunyi caught cheers from nearby. Following the sound, she saw Chen Kuo wearing a short-sleeve shirt and light gray sweatpants, shooting hoops. Though tall now, compared to his poised and mature self ten years later, he still looked thin and youthful.

The ball bounced off the rim with a loud “thump,” then sprang back up.

Chen Kuo was just warming up. He laughed with his teammates and gave a high-five. He rarely smiled, but when he did, his teeth were clean and bright.

Zhang Yunyi watched him thoughtfully.

Dai Jia tugged her forward toward the cafeteria, and she tore her gaze away, sinking into her thoughts. Mechanically, they queued to buy some soup noodles and sat down at a free spot. She picked at the food with her chopsticks, the aroma of the beef broth filling the air. She blinked, a startling thought piercing her mind, one she could not shake.

Did rebirth come with a special advantage?

Yes, but the extra ten years of memory didn’t seem to help much. Yet compared to others, she foresaw the future.

For example, she knew that Dai Jia had been admitted to a top university, met her future husband there, enjoyed a sweet relationship, excelled academically, secured graduate school recommendations together, and married right after graduation. Had she been reborn a few months later, she would even know whether Dai Jia’s baby was a boy or a girl.

And for example...

Chen Kuo was her future boss.

After working for a year, she had overwhelmingly positive impressions of the company and her job. The job market was tough, and finding a humane company was far rarer than finding a good boyfriend. Just think: weekends off, paid overtime, stable employment, decent benefits, no empty gestures during holidays—bonuses or shopping cards given directly, more annual leave than other companies, and guaranteed yearly raises!

She knew some employees had been with the company since Chen Kuo’s startup days, with salaries that made people drool.

She had read many rebirth novels that inspired her, but facing reality, she still needed to work hard just to get into her previous university. No grand conquests; she would be lucky just to maintain her previous status.

Since she was going to be a corporate drone anyway, why take unnecessary detours?