“Sure.”
Xie Qian’s message was just two words, responding to Wen Ying’s earlier question about delaying the math test.
Interrupted by Xie Qian, the car had already sped off, disappearing from Wen Ying’s sight. She wasn’t sure if the person she’d glimpsed was He Zhen.
In her past life, Wen Ying met He Zhen in 2014 through work. She was 26, he was 29.
When they first met, He Zhen was already an elite returnee from studying abroad, starting to take over the He family business. He was far more seasoned than Wen Ying, a junior lawyer just starting at a big firm in Shanghai.
From 2014 to 2019, those five years marked Wen Ying’s rapid career rise and He Zhen’s crucial business growth. In those five years, He Zhen proved his worth to the He family. By the time Wen Ying was reborn, 34-year-old He Zhen had largely taken over, with his father delegating most authority, only steering key decisions.
The He Zhen Wen Ying knew was the young He Zhen, the composed “Young Master He” who rarely showed emotion. Even after three years together, in private moments, Wen Ying sometimes couldn’t read him.
In He Zhen’s words, venting negativity to a partner was pointless, dragging both into a spiral that eroded intimacy under constant pressure.
Wen Ying didn’t agree.
She felt it was her own weakness—unable to help with his troubles, so he kept them to himself.
That was one reason she didn’t accept his proposal.
It wasn’t just the He family’s lukewarm reception; Wen Ying felt she wasn’t yet strong enough to stand beside He Zhen through life’s storms. In short, the He Zhen she knew was the “Young Master He” others saw—unshakable even to her, his girlfriend.
But that fleeting glimpse in the hallway—of a young man with He Zhen’s exact features and outline, brimming with youth—left her dazed.
He Zhen was human too, with a youthful phase. No one was born mature. She hadn’t been part of his life before 26, the years that shaped him into the He Zhen she knew.
She understood all this.
But if that was He Zhen just now, she hadn’t expected him at 19 to be so trendy—no steady suits or neat short hair. At 19, He Zhen’s hair was swept up, streaked with pinkish-gold highlights, dazzling under the KTV’s lights!
Wen Ying couldn’t help but laugh. So this was young He Zhen.
She was still giggling at the door when Li Mengjiao found her.
“You’ve been out here a while. I came to check on you. What’s so funny?”
“Nothing, just saw a cute guy and chased after him.”
Wen Ying was frank. Li Mengjiao craned her neck, “Where? Where is he?”
“He’s gone!”
Li Mengjiao doubted she’d been tricked.
Wen Ying, this excited over a cute guy?
“Handsomer than Xie Qian?”
She asked, but Li Mengjiao already had her answer—no one could outshine Xie Qian.
Wen Ying couldn’t lie against her conscience and claim He Zhen topped Xie Qian. If He Zhen had Xie Qian’s god-tier looks, wealth, and talent, why would he pick her?
Life wasn’t a fairy tale. He Zhen’s looks stood out among regular folks, boosted by money and disciplined habits. By her rebirth, 34-year-old He Zhen showed no signs of middle-age bloat, still youthful, not greasy.
Xie Qian was different—purely heaven-gifted. Even without wealth, status, or academic brilliance, his face alone would draw endless admirers.
Wen Ying shook her head honestly, “I’ve never seen anyone better-looking than Xie Qian in my life.”
That included her past life—31 years, no second “Xie Qian.”
Li Mengjiao nodded, “Me neither. Xie Qian’s too good-looking. Sometimes standing next to him, I feel inferior. I’ve peeked—he’s even got smoother skin than me. Isn’t that infuriating?”
You, inferior?
Wen Ying thought, didn’t you chase Xie Qian like mad in the last life?
Thanks to Li Mengjiao finding her, Wen Ying, with her twisted ankle, leaned on her to hobble back to the room.
Li Mengjiao giggled as they walked, amused that Wen Ying sprained her ankle chasing a guy less handsome than Xie Qian, “Look at you, so hopeless!”
Wen Ying smiled, unable to explain.
She couldn’t tell Li Mengjiao it wasn’t just some cute guy, but her ex-boyfriend.
Though in Wen Ying’s mind, she and He Zhen never broke up, that was with 34-year-old He Zhen, not 19-year-old He Zhen. Blame the rebirth gods for turning him into her “ex.”
She hadn’t caught up to confirm his identity, but she wasn’t too regretful.
By last life’s timeline, she’d meet He Zhen in Shanghai a decade later. This He Zhen, without their shared memories, was He Zhen, yet not hers.
Wen Ying felt conflicted but decided to let it be.
If she and He Zhen met again, fell in love, she’d accept it as fate—two lifetimes of unbreakable ties, heedless of the He family’s opinions!
…
“Why’d you suddenly come back?”
In the car, a friend asked pinkish-gold-streaked He Zhen.
He Zhen couldn’t explain it himself.
A month ago, he’d been deep in a fling with his senior. One morning, waking in his apartment, life suddenly felt dull.
The senior was smart, stunning, and chasing her as an Asian student had irked many guys at school, inflating He Zhen’s ego.
She hadn’t changed.
He had.
One day, everything felt off, his heart empty.
The senior’s allure faded overnight. He Zhen felt like a jerk—wanting her, then discarding her.
But a gut urge drove him. Following instinct, he booked a ticket home, flying from Shanghai to Chengdu.
He didn’t know what he sought; his intuition offered no more clues.
Asked why he returned, He Zhen had no answer. Chengdu yielded nothing, no reason to stay.
“I’m heading back to the UK tomorrow.”
He Zhen propped his arm behind his head, “I promised Rebecca a trip to Egypt. If I don’t go back, I’ll break it.”
A foreign trip might reignite their spark. He wasn’t just playing with Rebecca.
