Chapter 32: Rebirth and Love

11 p.m. The city was settling into the quiet of the night.

Streetlights and the occasional car’s high beams cut through the dark. The McDonald’s behind them glowed like a lone castle.

“I… should go,” Lin Yuhan said nervously at the crossroad. “Good luck tomorrow.”

“Mm.”

No long goodbyes. They parted like casual friends.

A few steps away, she paused, turning back. “Oh, Meng Zhi, can I ask you something?”

“What?”

“If… I mean, if,” she hesitated, then spoke carefully, “I did something wrong before, and now I have a chance to fix it. Should I act like it never happened, forget it, or make up for it and leave no regrets?”

She regretted it instantly.

To Meng Zhi, it might sound bizarre. They’d only known each other a few days. Asking this could make her seem weird.

But she genuinely wanted his opinion.

She’d never been decisive. In their last life, he’d encouraged her to write novels, and she’d grown used to relying on him for decisions.

This time, though, he shook his head. “I can’t decide for you.”

“Huh?” She blinked.

“Both options have pros and cons. It’s about what you’re willing to give up.”

He continued, “Choices like this, with no clear right or wrong, shape your life.”

“I’m not qualified to change your life or make your decisions. Only you can do that.”

I made that mistake last time.

This time, I won’t meddle in your life.

“I know when you ask this, you’re already thinking of dodging the consequences. If someone else decides, you can follow without guilt, no matter how it turns out.”

“That’s wrong. Avoiding choices is meaningless. We’re not kids. We can decide for ourselves.”

His words left a bitter taste, deepening her confusion.

“But… I don’t know how to choose…”

“Pick what makes you happier,” he said with a faint smile. “If neither does, choose the one that lets you breathe a sigh of relief after.”

“Sometimes, choosing isn’t that hard. Just try.”

Choose what makes you happier.

The one you can sigh in relief after.

She looked up, dazed.

Under the streetlight, Meng Zhi’s figure was slight. His youthful features, soft from the side, clean and striking in his simple black T-shirt and anime-like hairstyle, made him look like a manga protagonist.

He was younger than the Meng Zhi in her memories, yet still as gentle, still comforting.

A choice that makes me happy now…

…I see.

“Thanks.” A smile spread across her face. “I know what to do.”

“Next time I’ll treat you to dinner, once my allowance comes in.”

“I’ll hold you to it.” He waved, smiling. “Be safe.”

“Mm!”

After parting, she tucked her wavy curls behind her ear, her steps lighter.

Just eating with you, chatting, walking under the sleeping city’s shadows—it makes me so happy.

I don’t just love writing novels. I love you too.

Thank you. I know what to do.

Watching her Lolita-dressed figure fade, Meng Zhi shook his head.

Did I say too much?

It wouldn’t expose his reborn identity, but he might’ve sounded preachy.

He wondered what she’d choose.

Even if she stuck to writing novels, as long as it made her happy, he had no right to interfere.

This time, it was her choice. Nothing to do with him.

Tiptoeing into her room, Lin Yuhan gently opened her laptop, waking a webpage left open in the background.

A novel site’s registration page, all fields filled, waiting for the final “submit.”

This time, she didn’t hesitate. She clicked it.

Hanlin Xiangwan.

Staring at the author dashboard, she zoned out. Time seemed to rewind to when she first mustered the courage to write her debut novel.

A sci-fi romance about a boy and girl meeting and falling in love during a city-shaking rain.

Her writing was childish then, clumsy with emotions and suspense, like a baby with a paintbrush, awkwardly sketching hazy fantasies.

It was passable, but not the story she’d envisioned.

This time, she wouldn’t rewrite it.

She’d write a new story.

One less romantic, perhaps, but bursting with things she wanted to say.

Her story with Meng Zhi.

Title… “Reborn to Fall in Love.”

Lost in memories of him, she began the first chapter.

She wrote past 12:30 a.m., itching to start the second, when she remembered.

“Oh no!”

“The exam’s tomorrow!”

“It’s so late…” Panicking, she checked the time and rushed to wash up.

But lying in bed, staring at the ceiling, sleep wouldn’t come.

Her mind swirled with girlish fantasies, story beginnings and endings, and the sweet-bitter moments with Meng Zhi.

Looks like it’s not just math.

Tomorrow’s comprehensive exam is doomed too.*