The moonlight shone as clear as water, illuminating the pitch-black iron gate. The courtyard glowed faintly under the dim yellow light.

Zhao Feng opened the front gate of his ancestral home, a place he hadn’t stepped into for over a decade. Looking at the spacious three-tile-roofed house and the 500-square-meter courtyard, he felt as if he had stepped into another world. He truly had returned—to the home of his childhood.

Woof, woof, woof!

A deep bark echoed in the dark as a glossy-furred yellow dog darted out. The dog, over 1.3 meters long, stopped right in front of Zhao Feng, circling him as it sniffed curiously. Its expression turned strangely human-like.

“Hahaha, Wangcai, it’s been so long!”

Zhao Feng’s eyes lit up as he bent down to embrace the yellow dog. He ruffled its head fondly and then, gripping its front paws, pulled it upright. Humming a cheerful tune, he began to dance a lively ballroom waltz with the dog, his feet moving rhythmically in an almost comical manner.

This yellow dog, Wangcai, had been Zhao Feng’s companion for ten years. It was only after Zhao Feng graduated from university and returned home that he discovered Wangcai had disappeared. Rumors swirled—some said the dog catchers had taken it, others claimed bad people had set traps and sold it for meat, and there were even whispers that Wangcai had been spotted at a dog meat restaurant.

Zhao Feng had only ever owned one dog in his life—this very Wangcai. Deep down, he muttered to himself, In my past life, I lost you. This time, I won’t let that happen again.

The house door creaked open, and Zhao Feng’s parents stepped outside. They froze at the sight of their son, utterly engrossed in dancing with the dog. The couple exchanged a glance, their faces immediately darkened with exasperation, and they suddenly felt an urge to deliver a parental “double assault.”

Zhao Feng’s father, Zhao Changhe, was a worker at a state-owned sugar factory, doing a stable 9-to-5 job. Little did he realize that the winds of reform sweeping the nation would soon lead to the factory’s closure. He was about to lose his job and join the ranks of the unemployed, leaving the family without financial security.

His mother, Zhou Qingmei—her name evoking the famed “plum wine” anecdote of historical figures Cao Cao and Liu Bei—was a rural-born housewife. However, she was also an accomplished poultry farmer, raising 500 chickens and over 100 ducks. The family’s household was never short of eggs.

Zhao Changhe, now 38, sported a stylish side parting in his hair. His features were well-defined, and he was known for his honesty and integrity—an old-fashioned good man who would never take advantage of others. Zhao Feng had inherited his father’s personality and was famously nicknamed “the most honest student” in his senior year of high school.

Zhou Qingmei, at 35, had long, flowing hair and a graceful figure. She had been renowned in her youth as the most beautiful woman for miles around, earning the title of the village flower. She had married Zhao Changhe, who had a respectable urban job, and became a devoted and gentle wife. Her greatest dream was for Zhao Feng to excel in life—preferably by getting into a prestigious university, making the family proud.

The two loved each other deeply and shared a harmonious life. Their only regret in life was Zhao Feng’s lack of drive in his previous life. They had worried endlessly, worn themselves out trying to push him forward, and made countless sacrifices to no avail.

“Xiao Fengfeng, why are you coming home so late?” Zhou Qingmei asked, displeasure evident in her tone.

“The college entrance exam is around the corner. Of course, I’d be home late,” Zhao Feng replied.

He turned abruptly to look at his youthful and vibrant parents. With a dramatic flourish, he flung his hand forward, sending Wangcai spinning in place three times. The dog’s eyes twinkled with stars as it collapsed on the ground, too dizzy to stand.

“When did you learn to dance? And you’re this good at it?” Zhao Changhe asked with a baffled expression, as if seeing something unbelievable.

“I learned ballroom dancing back in middle school. I’m a prodigy—I pick up everything easily,” Zhao Feng said matter-of-factly.

Zhao Feng’s parents exchanged a glance, then simultaneously lunged at him. Each grabbed one of his ears, pulling him inside as Zhao Feng winced in pain, teeth bared.

---

In the spacious living room, the floor was bare cement, painted with red lacquer that had long since faded. The black leather sofa, an old model, was heavily worn, with several patches torn open.

On the glass coffee table sat three dishes of stir-fried food and a bowl of rice—clearly left for Zhao Feng as a late-night snack. But the dishes were cold, and it was obvious his parents had been waiting for him for quite some time. They had likely been worried something had happened to him on the way home.

In 2003, the county’s public security was poor. Unlike in modern times, there were no surveillance cameras on every street corner, let alone high-tech monitoring systems. Robberies and thefts were rampant, and thugs often roamed freely, especially at night. Women working late shifts faced real danger, relying on family members to escort them to work safely.

“How come your haircut looks like that? It looks terrible,” Zhao Changhe complained.

“Yeah, it used to be a nice student haircut. Now it looks like a kettle lid! Where did you get it done? Tomorrow, your mom and I will take you there and have a proper talk with them. What kind of barber is that?” Zhou Qingmei fussed, rubbing her son’s head as she scolded him.

“Mom, it’ll grow back. If you keep cutting it, I’ll be bald! This is fine, it’s nice and cool,” Zhao Feng said helplessly.

“Xiao Fengfeng, you must be hungry, right? Let me heat up some food for you,” Zhou Qingmei said as she picked up the plate and headed to the kitchen.

“Your mom made stir-fried chives with eggs, Kung Pao chicken, and egg soup—all your favorites,” Zhao Changhe added.

“Alright,” Zhao Feng said, raising his hand as if he wanted to decline but then lowered it, conceding.

“How did your monthly exam go? Did Teacher Guo praise you?” Zhao Changhe asked, trying to make conversation.

“The results are the same as always. I’m dead last on the class rankings,” Zhao Feng answered with a grin, his tone a bit resigned.

He suddenly remembered something and smiled mischievously. “Dad, Teacher Guo wants to eat our farm’s eggs. Tomorrow, could you bring a basket of eggs and deliver them to her school?”

“I know. Teacher Guo loves our farm eggs. How did you know that?” Zhao Changhe asked, tilting his head with suspicion.

“I’m smart, you know? I found out a long time ago. Make sure you deliver them tomorrow—Teacher Guo is probably out of eggs and really wants them,” Zhao Feng said confidently.

“Okay, I’ll send them early tomorrow. Don’t worry about it,” Zhao Changhe agreed, nodding.

Zhao Feng chuckled to himself, imagining the look of surprise and delight on Teacher Guo’s face when Zhao Changhe delivered the eggs. He couldn’t help but grin—when a good person got serious, nothing could stop them.

---

“Xiao Fengfeng, it’s time to eat!”

Zhou Qingmei emerged from the kitchen with the dishes, setting them on the coffee table. She happily sat next to her son, watching him eat.

Zhao Feng picked up his chopsticks and began eating his mother’s special dishes. As he tasted the food, he felt the warmth of his father’s care and his mother’s sincere gaze. A sudden pang of emotion struck his heart, and he couldn’t help but feel a little choked up. He thought of the old song by Hua Zai, Home is Truly Wonderful:

My home is my castle,

Each brick and tile created with love,

The smiles of my family,

Are my treasures,

Only when I return home do I realize,

How important I truly am...

---

After enjoying the barbecue earlier, Zhao Feng wasn’t really hungry. But after the late-night snack, he felt stuffed. He returned to his small room, lying on a narrow bed covered with a cool mat, surveying the room’s furnishings.

The twenty-square-meter room was adorned with celebrity posters.

Michael Jackson, wearing a top hat and a sparkling dance outfit, struck his signature crotch-grabbing pose.

Bruce Lee, with a cold and proud expression, wore an orange martial arts uniform and brandished nunchucks in a classic stance.

The final poster was of the five ruffian brothers: Hao Nan, Shan Ji, Da Tou Zi, Bao Pi, and Da Tian Er, all bare-chested.

The walls didn’t have a guitar, nor was there a violin—there were no musical instruments. After all, children from poor families couldn’t afford to learn music. This was an indisputable fact.

On the cabinet, there was only a pair of metal nunchucks and a brass knuckle, the typical weapons of a street fighter.

On the bookshelf, there were a few Transformers toys and two toy guns—Zhao Feng’s favorite childhood playthings.

He looked up at the bare ceiling, thinking back to his youthful dreams. Zhao Feng’s childhood dream had been to become a righteous knight who righted wrongs. But after his parents’ education, his dream shifted to becoming a scientist—a noble ideal. But how could an ordinary person like him ever achieve it?

Zhao Feng lay there, looking at the ceiling, a mixture of nostalgia and frustration bubbling up inside him. His childhood dreams felt so distant now, almost laughable. Reality had long since overshadowed those fantasies. Back then, he wanted to become someone who could change the world, someone who could stand up for the weak and oppressed. But now, with the weight of expectations on him, his path seemed much less clear.

He sighed deeply, thinking about his parents' hopes for him. His mother, Zhou Qingmei, always dreamed of him becoming a successful person, getting into a prestigious university, and bringing honor to the family. She never failed to remind him how much she believed in him. But what if he wasn’t cut out for it? What if he was just a small fish in a vast sea?

His father, Zhao Changhe, was a quiet, hardworking man. Although he never said much, Zhao Feng knew his father’s aspirations for him were just as high. Zhao Changhe had worked hard all his life, but now, with the factory closing down and the prospect of unemployment looming, he felt an unspoken pressure to ensure that his son would avoid the same fate.

Despite all of this, Zhao Feng couldn't help but feel like an outsider in his own life. The pressure, the expectations—it was all too much. He wasn’t sure if he could live up to it all, or even if he wanted to.

The peaceful night around him seemed to mock his confusion. Outside, the moonlight was still shining, casting long shadows across the quiet courtyard. The night was calm, but his mind was anything but.

Zhao Feng closed his eyes for a moment, trying to shake off the weight of his thoughts. He could hear the faint rustling of the trees outside, the chirping of crickets, and the distant sounds of his parents talking quietly downstairs. It felt like the entire world was asleep, and he was left alone with his thoughts.

He thought about the future. What would it be like? Would he be able to follow in his parents' footsteps and achieve what they had hoped for him? Or would he go down a different path entirely? The uncertainty was both terrifying and liberating.

Suddenly, his mind wandered back to the moments with his dog, Wangcai, the one constant in his life. It had been years since he last saw the big yellow dog, and now, back in this old home, it felt like nothing had changed. Wangcai had always been there for him, no matter what. The dog had been his companion through thick and thin, offering unconditional love and loyalty.

Zhao Feng smiled softly to himself. He promised himself he would never let anything happen to Wangcai again, no matter what.

The greatest ideal of parents is for their child to get into a prestigious university, to stand out and be successful, and to earn respect from others.

Whether for themselves or for their parents, they must get into their dream university to make up for the regret of failing the college entrance exam in their previous life.

In his previous life, Zhao Feng failed to pass the college entrance exam. He clearly had the ability to enter a second-tier university but ended up attending a third-tier, low-ranking university with ridiculously high tuition fees, becoming a complete failure.

In order to afford the high tuition fees, his parents, influenced by his uncle’s words, sold the Zhao family’s ancestral home. This caused them to miss the opportunity to get compensation from urban redevelopment, which would have changed their fate. As a result, Zhao Feng went from being part of a "second-generation demolition" family to becoming a "negative second-generation," living a life full of regret.

That year, universities were expanding their admissions without providing job placements. Graduates faced immediate unemployment.

Zhao Feng's luck was poor. He happened to fall into this wave of graduates who became unemployed immediately after graduation. He applied for jobs everywhere, but companies didn't care about educational backgrounds—only work experience mattered. Without two or three years of experience, there was no chance of finding a suitable job.

As a result, he got stuck in a dead cycle. Without any work experience, how could he gain work experience? He became a failure in the workplace.

Zhao Feng silently swore that in this life, no matter what methods he had to use, he would never let the same tragedy happen again.

Today, in the game hall, he used time reversal, which seemed to allow him to rewind time by three minutes—just 180 seconds.

"Time Reversal."

Zhao Feng jumped out of bed and muttered under his breath, only to fall back onto the bed.

Suddenly, a transparent panel appeared in his field of vision, with "Time Reversal" written at the top and the count showing "0."

At the bottom of the panel was a warning about the Three Taboo Rules for Rebirth:

• 1. No plagiarism of literary works, songs, or poems.

• 2. No investing in stocks, as it would disturb the economic system.

• 3. No changing major historical events—history cannot be altered.

Punishment: Those who break these taboos will face instant death, or worse, their entire family may perish.

✨ The Rest of the chapter on my Patreon ✨

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