The crowd of students leaving school split up at the gate. Chen Mo deftly found his second-hand bicycle, the one that rattled everywhere except the bell, and kicked up its stand. His movements even carried a long-forgotten fluidity.
"Brother Mo, let's go!" Zhang Shun wheeled over on his equally battered steed.
The two rode side by side along the nighttime streets. The evening breeze brushed their faces, dispelling some of the day's fatigue and the stuffiness of the classroom. The streetlights stretched their shadows long, then short, then long again, like two dancing notes composing a march called "Going Home."
Chen Mo and Zhang Shun had become best friends not only because of their shared bond as "back-row big shots," but also because they were bona fide neighbors and family friends. Both families lived in Xingfu Residential Area, not far from the school. It was an old residential compound, made up entirely of six-story buildings without elevators, but full of the warmth of everyday life. Chen Mo's family lived in Building Three, while Zhang Shun's was in Building Four across the way—close enough to toss food to each other, or trade insults, from their balconies. Even more coincidentally, Chen Mo's mother, Chen Yaqin, and Zhang Shun's mother, Aunt Wang, worked at the same factory and had been close friends for years. Their families couldn't have been tighter.
"Shunzi, same place tomorrow morning. Jianbing guozi, two extra eggs!" Chen Mo booked breakfast like he always did.
"Coming right up! I guarantee it'll be a hundred times better than the slop at the Cafeteria!" Zhang Shun thumped his chest, making his bike wobble a few times. Chen Mo watched in alarm.
They joked and bantered all the way to Xingfu Residential Area. The mottled walls, the faint aroma of stir-fried food drifting from the stairwells, the closing strains of the evening news from some windows, and children crying from others all formed a vivid picture of everyday life.
"See you tomorrow!"
"See you tomorrow!"
After locking up his bike in the shed downstairs, Chen Mo took a deep breath and walked toward the familiar yet unfamiliar entrance, as if he were about to make some momentous decision. The motion-sensor light in the stairwell was temperamental. He stamped his foot hard before its dim yellow glow finally came on, illuminating the walls covered in flyers and the worn handrail.
Standing outside his front door, Chen Mo's heart began to race for no apparent reason. This must be what it feels like to be homesick when returning home, he thought—even if this "home" was in another world. Inside were his parents and younger sister in this world, the original owner's closest family. Could he play his part convincingly? Would they see through him at a glance?
He steadied himself for a full ten seconds before finally raising his hand and knocking on the door. He hadn't used a key; it was an instinctive test.
"Coming, coming!" A warm but slightly tired woman's voice came from inside, followed by the sound of slippers scraping across the floor.
The door opened. His mother, Chen Yaqin, stood there in an apron, water droplets still on her hands. She had clearly just finished working in the kitchen. The moment she saw Chen Mo, her face broke into a smile. "You're home, Mo Mo? Come on in. You must be tired. Mom made you some millet porridge and kept it warm!"
"Mom," Chen Mo replied. His voice was a little hoarse, but he did his best to sound natural. He stepped inside and saw his father, Chen Guoqiang, leaning against the old sofa in the living room with a smartphone in his hands. The screen's light fell across his slightly wrinkled face. He seemed to be watching some current events or short videos, swiping now and then.
"Dad," Chen Mo said again.
Chen Guoqiang looked up and nudged his reading glasses up his nose. He gave a grunt. His tone wasn't especially warm, but it wasn't cold, either. "You're back? Studying must be tiring. Go rest. Your mom made you something to eat." It was a typical Chinese father's way of showing care: understated but sincere.
Just then, the door to another bedroom creaked open a crack, and a little head poked out. It was his younger sister, Chen Qing, who was in junior high. She had inherited her parents' average looks and wore her hair in a ponytail. Her cheeks still had a bit of baby fat. When she saw Chen Mo, she pursed her lips. "You're back, bro?" Her tone was a little perfunctory, but there was still a hint of curiosity in her eyes. She was probably wondering why her slacker brother hadn't immediately collapsed on the sofa to play games, as usual.
"Mm," Chen Mo said with a nod. From what he remembered, the original owner and his sister, who was several years younger, weren't very close. There was a bit of an age gap between them, and they'd settled into a peaceful arrangement of "not bothering each other, talking now and then, and teasing each other when necessary."
The atmosphere at home was warmer and more peaceful than Chen Mo had expected. The original owner's grades had always been "consistently" terrible. By the time he reached his senior year, his parents seemed to have accepted reality. Their initial frustration that he wasn't living up to his potential had gradually given way to a helpless "as long as you're healthy and happy." They'd shifted more of their hopes onto his sister, whose grades were slightly above average. Chen Mo secretly breathed a sigh of relief. At least the pressure at home wasn't too bad. There was none of the melodramatic "both parents beating him up" or "tearfully begging him to improve" that he'd imagined.
His mother carried a steaming bowl of millet porridge, fragrant with rice, to the dining table, then set down a small dish of pickles. "Here, drink it while it's hot. It'll warm you up."
Chen Mo sat down and cradled the warm bowl in his hands. The porridge's heat spread from his palms through his whole body. As he sipped it, he listened to his mother chatter about trivial matters at the factory and his father occasionally add a few remarks about things he'd seen while working for the neighborhood office. His sister slipped back into her room, where the faint sound of English listening exercises could be heard...
It was all ordinary and mundane, yet filled with the warmth of everyday life. At last, the heart that had been suspended since his arrival in this world found somewhere to land, settling back into his chest.
At least, he'd gotten a good start: a harmonious family, healthy parents, and no major problems apart from being a bit of a slacker. It was a blessing many transmigrators could only envy.
After finishing his porridge and chatting briefly with his parents, Chen Mo got up and returned to his small room. It wasn't large: a desk, a single bed, a wardrobe. The furnishings were simple, and several long-outdated anime posters still clung to the walls. His desk was piled high with textbooks and exercise books.
He closed the door, shutting out the sounds from the rest of the world. In an instant, everything went quiet. He let out a long breath, preparing to gather himself and begin tonight's study plan for his "counterattack."
Just as he sat down at his desk, picked up a copy of Selected Ancient Poems for High School Chinese, and adjusted his breathing in an attempt to recover the mindset he'd had when studying for exams all those years ago—though it had been over a decade—
Ding—
A voice rang out, startlingly clear, as if it had sounded directly in the depths of his mind. It carried a distinctly inhuman quality.
Chen Mo froze as if struck by the Immobilization Spell. The hand holding his book stopped in midair. His eyes widened, and even his breathing halted.
The next second, overwhelming joy erupted from deep inside him like a volcano, making his scalp tingle!
He snapped out of it and nearly jumped out of his chair. His heart pounded like a drum, and blood rushed to his head.
It's here! It's here! It's finally here!
The essential tool for any transmigrator: the Life Cheat Device, the counterattack Golden Finger! It might be late, but it would never be absent!
Chen Mo was so excited that his hands trembled. In his mind, he practically shouted:
"Grandpa Cheat! System Big Boss! You're finally online! I knew it—what's the point of transmigrating without a cheat? Wouldn't this whole trip have been for nothing?!"
His eyes fixed on the empty space before him. Both nervous and filled with anticipation, he waited for the wheels of fate to begin turning with a thunderous roar at the sound of that "ding"...
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