Lu Chuan Awoke and Came to His Senses
Buzz, buzz, buzz.
An old standing fan was turning.
Its aging plastic casing rattled softly.
The blades cut through the stuffy air, blowing against his body with the dry heat peculiar to late summer.
Lu Chuan opened his eyes.
His vision was still a little blurry.
He took a deep breath, his body taut.
Both hands gripped the bedsheet beneath him.
The coarse fabric rubbed against his palms.
The violent impact of the car crash and the piercing screech of twisting metal seemed to linger in his ears.
He gasped for air.
His chest heaved.
When his vision finally came into focus, he froze.
I didn't die?
Above him was not the glaring ceiling of a hospital.
Instead, there was an old, slightly yellowed wall, with rings of water stains in the corner.
Several fine cracks had even appeared in the wall.
This was definitely not a hospital.
He turned his head.
A narrow single bed.
A cheap wardrobe covered in imitation wood-grain veneer.
A chipped glass sat on the bedside table.
There was also an old smartphone, a model long since left behind by the times.
The edges of its case were worn.
This was the old room he had rented before starting university.
Lu Chuan's heart beat faster.
He sat bolt upright.
He reached out and snatched up the old phone.
His thumb trembled slightly as he pressed the power button.
The screen lit up.
Its light made him squint.
A row of numbers appeared clearly on the screen.
August 3.
It was one month before university started.
Lu Chuan sat dumbfounded on the bed.
His back went numb, and cold sweat seeped down his spine, making his clothes cling to him.
I've been reborn?
He had actually returned to the age of eighteen.
Returned to that summer when none of it had begun.
He hurriedly unlocked the screen.
He tapped the messages icon.
His finger swiped rapidly across the screen as he searched for the bank's text notifications.
There it was.
His gaze fixed on the long string of digits.
He didn't think that was enough to be sure.
He backed out and opened the bank's official app.
He entered his password.
He opened the balance page.
Ones, tens, hundreds, thousands, ten thousands, hundred thousands, millions, ten millions.
Ten million.
A full ten million.
The compensation for the demolition of his family's old house back home.
Every cent lay in his account.
Lu Chuan let out a long breath.
The money was still there.
None of it had happened yet.
That meant there was still time for everything.
Lu Chuan leaned against the headboard.
The phone screen was still lit in his hand.
He took a deep breath and began looking through the other records on his phone.
He had to find out exactly what stage he was at now.
He opened his browser history.
The more he read, the more complicated his expression became.
The browser was full of rows of glaring search queries.
[What car can a university student drive to look like he comes from a distinguished background without showing off?]
[What kind of watch is cheap but good enough to show off?]
[Which car rental company in Jiangcheng rents sports cars without a huge deposit?]
[Crash course in etiquette for second-generation rich kids.]
The corner of Lu Chuan's mouth twitched.
His teeth practically ached.
What the hell were these search queries?
They were simply unbearable to look at.
He exited the browser and opened his notes.
Several glaring titles jumped out at him.
"How to get into the local second-generation rich kids' circle."
"What watch would suit a second-generation rich university student and let him show off?"
"A guide to conversation templates for high-end drinking parties."
As he looked at those words,
Lu Chuan's expression gradually froze.
He could even imagine the eagerness for quick success and self-satisfaction he had felt when he typed them at eighteen.
In his previous life, he had followed this ridiculous plan, packaging himself bit by bit as a fake rich young master.
He had used the ten million as his admission ticket.
Knocking on doors that had never belonged to him.
Trying to curry favor with people who had never thought much of him.
Thankfully,
It was August 3 now.
The demolition compensation had only recently arrived in his account.
For the moment, this utterly absurd plan had gone no further than web searches and the first stirrings of an idea.
He hadn't even ordered a watch.
He hadn't signed a single car rental contract.
Everything was still just a blueprint on which no work had begun.
That was wonderful.
Outside the window,
A few drawn-out street cries rang out.
"Watermelons for sale-"
"Big, sandy-fleshed watermelons-"
From the room next door,
Someone's muffled, off-key humming drifted faintly over as they showered.
Water splashed and rushed.
Those real, everyday sounds slipped in through the window that hadn't been fully closed.
Lu Chuan sat in the stuffy rented room.
Yet his heart felt utterly at ease.
Buzz, buzz, buzz.
The old fan was still turning tirelessly.
Lu Chuan tossed his phone onto the bed.
He covered his face with both hands.
Memories of his previous life came flooding back.
Those so-called high-end drinking parties.
Those exchanges of pleasantries full of veiled probing.
He remembered how hard he had studied what to wear.
How he had scoured an entire shopping mall to buy a single understated-looking outfit.
He remembered how he had controlled his speaking pace and adjusted his sitting posture.
He had even practiced the angle at which he tossed his car keys onto the table over and over at home.
All to look sufficiently casual.
To get into that circle, to earn a seemingly polite "Young Master Lu" from someone else,
He had turned himself into a display model, ready to be scrutinized at any moment.
Every day, he had kept himself wound tight.
Every word had been calculated.
Terrified that one detail might go wrong and give him away.
And then?
What had come of it?
Lu Chuan lowered his hands.
He rubbed his cheeks.
His gaze grew clear and cold.
That dimly lit private room at the Cloud Summit Club.
Chen Ziang sitting across from him.
Holding a glass of wine, he had exposed Lu Chuan's disguise in the calmest tone.
Zhao Yifan sitting in the corner, with that warning: "You'll pay with your life to be in this circle."
Those scenes were still as clear as if they had happened yesterday.
Now he finally understood.
Those people hadn't jeered or laughed at him out loud.
Not because they were sparing him embarrassment.
But because they thought he wasn't worthy.
They thought exposing him would dirty their mouths.
They hadn't laughed at him for being poor.
They had laughed because he plainly lacked the background, yet had desperately tried to squeeze himself into a place where he didn't belong at all.
A fierce sense of shame surged through him once more.
Lu Chuan finally admitted it.
The greatest mistake of his previous life hadn't been some ordinary vanity.
It had been stupidity.
Hopeless stupidity.
He had held ten million in cold, hard cash.
He had had the chance to build a good life, one step at a time.
To live comfortably and with confidence.
Yet for the sake of being "looked up to" by others,
He had used that money to plaster a hollow shell around himself.
Living for others to see.
It was the worst bargain in the world.
And the most pathetic way to live.
Lu Chuan picked up his phone again.
He opened his notes app.
He looked at the titles about "getting into social circles," "renting cars," and "talking points."
Without a moment's hesitation.
His finger swiped rapidly across the screen.
Delete.
Delete.
Delete.
He deleted everything.
Looking at the spotless blank page,
Lu Chuan let out a long breath.
Starting today, the life he had maintained through performance was over for good.
Fuck social circles.
Fuck the rich second-generation persona.
Lu Chuan knew his own nature too well. Though he now had ten million in cash, if he didn't immediately convert it into fixed assets, sooner or later he would squander it all.
Although he had been reborn with memories of his past life, he couldn't be certain whether they were genuine, and he would never recklessly risk this money.
Once he lost his balance and took a gamble, his ten-million fortune would vanish into thin air.
He also needed something to push him to make money.
As for putting it in a fixed-term bank deposit?
Only someone with bubbles for brains would think of that.
Could the interest on a fixed-term deposit keep up with the rate at which money lost value?
Don't make him laugh.
He opened a new note.
In the blank space, he typed four lines.
First, buy a comfortable home.
Second, buy a car he liked.
Third, use his memories of his past life to make some quick money.
Fourth, start school as usual.
Just those four goals.
As simple as could be.
No grand plans about connections, social circles, or class.
But as Lu Chuan looked at those four lines,
For the first time, he felt his heart settle on solid ground.
With those four things, his life had a skeleton.
Living another life.
I'll do whatever the fuck I want!
He would never again try to squeeze in at someone else's table.
He would spend his money on himself, steadily and practically.
On a mattress, a sofa, a steering wheel.
On every detail that could make him comfortable.
As for what other people thought.
What the fuck did it have to do with him?
Lu Chuan tucked his phone into his pocket.
He threw back the thin blanket and got out of bed.
His feet landed on the slightly sticky laminate floor.
He walked over to the old, somewhat wobbly desk.
He pulled out the chair and sat down.
He reached out and pressed the power button on the old desktop computer.
As the computer case gave off a rumbling whir from its fans,
The screen lit up.
The system booted very slowly.
Lu Chuan waited patiently.
When the desktop finally loaded, he opened the browser.
He went straight to Jiangcheng's local real estate listings page.
He needed a real place to live.
A place where he could completely relax.
Facing the search box,
Lu Chuan's fingers paused over the keyboard for two seconds.
Memories of his past life flashed through his mind.
That residential complex, peaceful amid the bustle, with excellent greenery and superb floor plans.
It was a place he had always wanted to live in his past life, but had never been willing to spend the money to buy.
Then,
His fingers tapped briskly on the keyboard.
Tap, tap, tap.
Two Chinese characters appeared in the search box.
Quiet Garden.
He pressed enter.
Lu Chuan looked at the property listings that popped up on the screen, his gaze resolute.
This was the first step in rebuilding his real life.