Chapter 4: Her Feet Have No Scent

As night fell, Lin Zhiyi lay in bed, surveying his room with a complex mix of emotions.

The room bore countless traces that felt intimately familiar: the battle dragon he’d doodled on the desk with various fluorescent pens, the My Little Pony stickers Lin Yingyuan had stuck on, and even a black handprint… a childish prank from back when he didn’t know better.

He hadn’t drawn the curtains, so moonlight projected the window’s outline onto the ceiling, forming a slanted parallelogram.

In the quiet of the night, thoughts wandered freely, and Lin Zhiyi found his mind drifting to his two best friends from his previous life.

Xia Mingli, or rather Ashley Sinclair… at this point, she should still be at that boarding school in England, dressed in her woolen uniform as she crossed the cobblestone courtyard, squinting her cat-like blue eyes against the chill.

She’d said it was cold there, the white puffs of her breath dissolving quickly into the damp, frigid air.

Chen Ruotong, he knew, was probably holed up in that small town nestled among the Qin Mountains, grumbling curses while grinding through problems, her hair not yet dyed that cherry red.

It would be years before the two of them met in university; she’d charge into his life like a wild stallion, kicking off their many years of friendship in a way he’d never forget.

It would be a long time before he encountered them again—when that day came, he’d get to know them all over, properly this time.

Then, his thoughts turned to his sister.

Lin Zhiyi bit his lower lip lightly, a wave of guilt surging in his chest.

It wasn’t until much later that he’d learned how, during high school, Lin Yingyuan had secretly taken on part-time jobs to help make ends meet, always frugal with money.

While other girls spent their after-school hours belting out tunes at karaoke or indulging in sweets at dessert shops, she always headed straight home—sensible in a way that tugged at the heart.

She really was an exceptional sister.

Lin Zhiyi made a silent vow in his heart: in this life, he would ensure his sister lived a happy one; the kind of hardships from before…

“Never again.”

Under the moonlight, he murmured to himself.

He’d talk to Yingyuan tomorrow—if she was still sneaking in those secret jobs, she had to stop.

Money matters would be his domain now; the greatest perk of a second chance was knowing where the gold was buried.

Back in the youthful vigor of seventeen, with his current insight, money-making opportunities were everywhere he looked.

He rolled over, closing his eyes.

Time to sleep.

The next morning.

Lin Zhiyi woke first, heading to the kitchen to whip up a simple, quick breakfast for two: microwave a few slices of bread, fry up a couple of eggs, and grab two cartons of milk from the fridge—done.

As he busied himself with these tasks, the door to Lin Yingyuan’s room, which had been tightly shut, creaked open.

“ Overslept, overslept, overslept, overslept…”

Out shuffled a disheveled, long-haired monster.

She dashed through her morning routine—washing up, fixing her appearance—and transformed back into a little beauty, slipping into her uniform.

As she walked to the table, still fastening the buttons on her pleated skirt, her midriff peeked out with each movement.

She shot him a mildly displeased pout.

“Why didn’t you wake me?”

“It’s not that late now, is it?”

Lin Zhiyi asked, puzzled.

“That’s for you—I need to leave ten minutes early, circle around to the other side of school, and approach from there.”

Lin Zhiyi chewed his bread leisurely, asking in confusion,

“So much hassle? Why on earth do we have to pretend not to know each other at school?”

“…Mind your own business, pretty girl issues!”

Lin Yingyuan snatched up a carton of milk, clamped a slice of bread in her mouth, and bolted to the entryway to put on her shoes.

“Not eating the fried egg?”

Lin Zhiyi called after her retreating back.

“Don’t want it, you eat it (muffled).”

“Put on your shoes first, then eat the bread—does it taste better that way?”

Lin Zhiyi teased.

Yingyuan’s secret little burger special—everyone who tried it raved.

“Quack! My feet don’t taste like anything!”

Lin Zhiyi guessed she meant to say “Get lost,” but her words had tumbled out too fast.

Seeing her shoes on and her small hand already on the doorknob, Lin Zhiyi said,

“Bye~ Be safe.”

The girl huffed in response, letting the door’s slam speak for her.

The sunlight outside had fully unfurled, bathing the ground in a sparkling sheen.

Lin Zhiyi finished his breakfast and headed downstairs; it was still early, so he strolled toward school at an unhurried pace.

The early autumn breeze carried a refreshing crispness, the leaves along the roadside already tinged with yellow.

Rounding the final street corner, the school gate loomed just ahead.

At that moment, from the opposite end of the long street, a black Maybach glided smoothly into view, its sleek body gleaming with a cold luster under the sun.

The door slid open silently, and Cheng Xiran stepped out, her entire figure bathed in the morning light; her uniform was impeccably pressed, without a single wrinkle, and even her black loafers were spotless.

Wherever she went, she drew a sea of gazes; as she strode toward the gate, the surrounding students instinctively gave her space, leaving a circular clearing around her at all times.

“Why a Maybach again?”

Lin Zhiyi muttered.

“Why did I say ‘again’?”

He muttered to himself again.

Just then, Cheng Xiran’s gaze swept across the crowd and settled on him, her eyes flickering slightly.

“Lin Zhiyi.”

She called his name, her voice cool and clear, as she walked toward him.

“Morning.”

“Morning, class monitor.”

Lin Zhiyi waved casually.

Cheng Xiran nodded and headed straight for the academic building, utterly ignoring the whispers rippling around her.

Lin Zhiyi didn’t care either.

For someone who’d been reborn once, the petty chatter of kids was beneath notice.

He brushed off the stares fixed on him and followed behind the high-ponytailed girl.

Cheng Xiran taking the initiative to greet him—probably the stuff of many a teenage boy’s dreams.

If it actually happened, they might even spin wild fantasies: why was she so aloof to everyone else, yet greeted only him?

She likes me (absolutely convinced).

The campus beauty with “keep out, mortals” written all over her face, yet she alone bothers to talk to me—could it be anything but a crush?

Those little guys would probably puff up like goblins stroking their chins, smug as could be.

But Lin Zhiyi wasn’t the type to leap to conclusions about a girl’s interest from something like that.

“She likes me” was one of life’s three great delusions.

Anyone who bought into that illusion was in for a tragic end; countless fools had already played the clown because of it, and Lin Zhiyi took it as a lesson learned.

Sure, maybe there was the slimmest chance…

But he didn’t care.

He believed pies didn’t fall from the sky.

Don’t click strange links, don’t trust unsolicited calls… as long as you didn’t harbor excessive fantasies, you wouldn’t end up choking on bitter regret.

She was the untouchable flower, the beauty, the heiress, the model student—titles more stacked than Daenerys’s, and yet she falls for a plain guy like me?

That only happened in fiction; reality wasn’t some serialized light novel from Pineapple Bun Press.

Besides, his crush on her was a relic of his past life.

The soul now inhabiting this seventeen-year-old body no longer held feelings for Cheng Xiran.

Reborn and Ignoring the Campus Beauty? She’s the One Getting Anxious—spare me the clichéd tropes, okay?

He shook his head with a light chuckle, his expression serene as he stepped through the school gate.

Class—skippable.

Dismissal.

The bell rang, and classmates scattered to their friends, some chatting, others horsing around; a few snuck bites of snacks, while the grinders loudly dissected homework problems.

Like the watermelon-headed, bespectacled boy to Lin Zhiyi’s right, whose QQ status read “I have a date with math.”

Lin Zhiyi stayed put in his seat.

He glanced out the window; on the sports field, the first-years were gearing up for PE next period.

With one sweep, he spotted Lin Yingyuan in the crowd, now changed into her gym clothes: a pure white short-sleeved top, black athletic shorts, her legs fair and long.

She’d tied her hair into a sporty bun for ease of movement and was doing stretches.

Lin Zhiyi noticed that, though she was amid the group, she seemed utterly alone; everyone else clustered in twos or threes, while she moved through the throng solo.

Just like him.

Remembering her fierce declaration that morning—”My feet don’t taste like anything!”—he found it inexplicably amusing, the corner of his mouth quirking up.

What should they have for dinner tonight?