Chapter 1: Reborn

The moment Rong Jiqiao opened her eyes, a man was walking toward her.

Her brain hadn't caught up yet, but her hand already had.

Slap.

The sharp crack rang out, startlingly clear in the cramped space.

Rong Jiqiao had assumed he was some creep.

But the moment her palm connected, she realized something was off.

Light leaked through the curtain gap and fell across the man's face.

The slap had driven the tip of his tongue into his cheek. He paused.

Rong Jiqiao's eyes went wide.

His features were deep and sculpted. A straight nose bridge with a sharp, clean line running from the bridge to the tip, carrying a faintly aggressive curve. Thin lips pressed into a tight, flat line.

Her brain went white-noise.

Duan… Duan Yan?!

No… no, that's not right…

She stumbled back a step, her back hitting the wall.

Where was she?

Wasn't she already dead?

Duan Yan didn't carry the imposing presence of Beijing's most powerful heir, nor the icy indifference he'd shown after their breakup. Right now, his brow was furrowed, and even after being slapped, his eyes just watched her darkly.

Still restrained. Still careful with her.

"Rong Jiqiao?"

Her mind was completely blank.

The partition ceiling was yellowed. The faint sound of a TV from the next room and water gurgling through pipes filtered through the thin walls.

Dead memories ambushed her. Rong Jiqiao realized something was wrong.

…She'd been reborn?

Back to the time before they'd broken up?

Rong Jiqiao had graduated from a vocational nursing program and worked as a nurse at a small county hospital.

Back then, Duan Yan was hauling bricks on a construction site. He'd been injured in an accident and rushed to the hospital—right on her shift.

She'd caught a glimpse of the people who brought him in. Well-dressed. She assumed he was some rich second-generation kid, so while Duan Yan was unconscious, she took extra care of him and even fronted his medical bills.

Then Duan Yan woke up and told her:

"I'm just a construction worker."

Rong Jiqiao was dumbfounded.

But the money was already spent. She had to let him pay it back.

Duan Yan was grateful. He worked himself to the bone to earn money. And because Rong Jiqiao had said, "I gave all my savings to a stranger to pay his medical bills," he felt indebted—running errands for her on his off time, picking her up and dropping her off from work.

Rong Jiqiao enjoyed all of it with clear conscience.

She liked the face he gave her—handsome enough to make her look good. She liked that he worked like an ox without complaint.

In time, they got together.

She quit her job and let him support her.

Later, she grew restless in the small county town, insisting on going to Beijing to make something of herself.

He followed without a second thought.

Rong Jiqiao thought she was beautiful and deserved better. She always felt Duan Yan—a broke nobody—wasn't good enough for her.

New to Beijing, Rong Jiqiao refused to live in those sunless Soviet-style walk-ups or the cramped, grimy shared courtyards of the urban villages.

So Duan Yan gritted his teeth. By day he worked as a security guard. After his shift, he hauled bricks at a construction site for extra cash. At night, he sorted packages at a delivery warehouse on piece-rate. All of it to afford this shared apartment in a residential complex—eight thousand a month.

Seven or eight people crammed together, rooms separated by drywall. You could hear a sneeze through the walls.

The rent alone was enough to crush a man who'd just arrived in Beijing.

But Rong Jiqiao still wasn't satisfied.

Until one day, the truth came out—the person who'd brought him to the hospital wasn't her. The medical bills she'd fronted were never tens of thousands. It was five hundred.

The real savior was a kindhearted heiress from a wealthy family.

Duan Yan's identity was revealed. He returned to Beijing as the heir, and married the heiress.

Rong Jiqiao was tossed back to the small county town. Left to fend for herself.

But she'd already been ruined by him. Spoiled past the point of function.

Couldn't work. Wouldn't work. Ambitions soaring sky-high, her life thin as paper.

She kept causing trouble, running to Beijing to harass Duan Yan—until the heiress's lovesick lapdog had her killed to prove his devotion.

So that was it. She'd been drowned, and now, somehow, she'd opened her eyes again.

The thought that she might get killed a second time made Rong Jiqiao's legs give out. She dropped straight to her knees in front of Duan Yan.

Duan Yan: "…?"

He'd braced himself for another one of her tantrums. Instead, he blinked, bewildered.

"You…" He opened his mouth, unsure what to say.

Then he knelt too.

As if something had clicked.

"Can we not do anything too dramatic?" His voice was low—tired, helpless, and just a little pleading. "I really can't take it. I'm too exhausted."

Rong Jiqiao: "…"

The two of them knelt face-to-face. Knee to knee, less than half a meter apart.

Rong Jiqiao burned with embarrassment.

She wanted to find a crack in the floor and disappear into it.

The air solidified into iron.

Her brain spun at full speed. Survival instinct maxed out.

She scrambled to her feet in one motion.

"Do what? There's no light on in here—you just scared me, that's all."

Duan Yan pushed himself up by his knees. "Mm." He grabbed a change of clothes and went into the bathroom.

The sound of running water came from behind the partition almost immediately.

This so-called shared apartment was really just a pigeon coop carved out of drywall. Originally a three-bedroom unit, it had been hacked into six rooms.

Rong Jiqiao slumped again.

The sensation of being thrown alive into the ocean was still vivid in her memory.

Her hands were trembling.

The voices still echoed in her ears—impatient, dismissive.

"Just throw her in the sea."

"Pathetic. Got dumped and still comes crawling back."

"Hurry up. Niannian and Brother Yan will be here soon. She'll be upset if she sees this."

Rong Jiqiao's mind was empty. None of what was in front of her felt real yet.

Duan Yan showered fast. He came out wearing nothing but a loose tank top.

He didn't look at Rong Jiqiao. Just lifted a corner of the blanket and lay down.

Almost the instant his head touched the pillow, steady breathing filled the room.

He was truly, completely spent.

The toll of back-to-back jobs and brutal physical labor had carved an exhaustion into his striking bone structure that no amount of handsomeness could disguise.

All the money from this grind went straight into the bottomless pit named Rong Jiqiao.

The room was tiny—barely enough for a 1.5-meter bed and a wardrobe.

Rong Jiqiao hesitated, then lay down on the outermost edge, curling herself into a small ball.

Heat radiated from beside her, constant and warm.

It had been a long time since she'd shared a bed with Duan Yan.

All her mind could conjure were the memories after the truth came out—Duan Yan breaking up with her, her showing up at his door again and again in a frenzy, and every time, the cold, impatient look on his face.

The sound of rustling sheets came from behind her.

Rong Jiqiao's body went rigid.

The next second, Duan Yan pulled her into his arms.