Chapter 2: Reborn

Chen Qiao, dodge quick, quick…

A frantic, childish voice rang in his ears.
Chen Qiao, still dazed from the inexplicable train collision, hadn’t reacted when a basketball flew at him.
It smashed into his face.
Unsteady, he fell backward, the world flipping upside down.

His face hurt.
His head throbbed too.

Blue sky, white clouds, dust kicking up around him.
The thump of a basketball hitting the ground mixed with children’s playful shouts.
The noisy chatter was irritating, like being in an elementary school.

“Right, Xin Yu, Xin Yu, are you okay?”

Chen Qiao bolted upright, looking around in confusion.
His hands grasped at empty air.
This was the school’s large playground, a concrete basketball court.
Faded hoops, rusty climbing bars, and a ladder.
The teaching building, labeled a hazard, still stood with its green windows and white walls.

A small, fair hand waved in front of his face.

“Hey, Chen Qiao, can you still hear me?
I’m fine.
You should worry about yourself first.
Need to go to the infirmary?
Or the hospital?
Your head’s not messed up, is it?”

Chen Qiao instinctively grabbed the waving hand, using it to pull himself up shakily from the ground.

Slippery, slightly sweaty.

“Eek!”

The girl yanked her hand back.

Her sharp cry snapped Chen Qiao’s foggy, chaotic mind into some clarity.
His gaze settled on the girl before him.

She wore a red-and-white elementary school uniform, a red scarf tied around her neck.
Sweat-dampened bangs clung messily to her forehead.
Oval face, flushed cheeks, lips slightly parted.
Her small chest rose and fell with quick breaths.
Deep, startled eyes under straight brows locked onto him.
Her left hand clutched her right, which he’d touched, as if it bothered her.

She looked familiar—an elementary school classmate, daughter of a middle school teacher.
Top student, like his sister, always earning awards.
Her name was Wu Xin Yu.

Her name sounded like his niece’s.
He hadn’t noticed before.
In this rural town, a few surnames dominated.
With parents of limited education, duplicate names were common.
His sister’s name appeared three times in her grade, marked as one, two, three in the teacher’s contact book.

“Blood, Chen Qiao, you’ve got a nosebleed,” Wu Xin Yu said, pointing at her nose.

“Oh.”

Chen Qiao wiped his nose.
His small palm came away bloody.
He’d thought it was just winter snot, but it was blood.

Tilting his head back, he squinted against the glaring sun.
He raised his left arm to cover his nose and asked, “Anyone got tissues?
Or something to stop the bleeding?”

“Tissues, tissues… mine are in the classroom.”

Wu Xin Yu patted her school pants pockets, finding only loose change.
For gym class, she’d left her keys in her desk drawer.
She turned to other classmates, shouting, “Does anyone have tissues?
Chen Qiao’s got a nosebleed!”

In the late ’80s and ’90s, tissue companies sprouted across the country, but not every kid carried a pack of pink Heart-to-Heart tissues.
Many families still used cheap, rough paper at home.
Extra money went to snacks, not tissues.

“A handkerchief… will that work?” a faint voice asked, nearly drowned by the playground’s noise.

“Of course, thank you so much.”

“No problem.”

Chen Qiao reached toward the voice to take the handkerchief.
Head tilted, eyes squinting, he couldn’t see the face.
His hand brushed someone’s arm and chest.
The handkerchief landed in his palm, nearly blown away by the wind, but he caught it.

He stuffed the handkerchief into his nose and ran toward the bathroom.

The oldest school building had no toilets.
Only the large, rectangular public restroom by the playground existed, where a misstep could land you in the squat pit.

“Chen Qiao, tissues…”

Wu Xin Yu, finally having borrowed tissues, rushed back but found Chen Qiao gone.
Only bloodstains remained on the ground.
She quietly slipped the tissues into her pocket, hiding her right hand behind her back.
Under the sunlight, her face flushed red.

Chen Qiao twisted the faucet, washing blood from his hands and nose.
He splashed cold water on his forehead.

Finally, he could think clearly about his situation.

Had he been reborn?

The pain in his head and face screamed this wasn’t a dream.

First, he sorted the facts.
Today was May 4, 2009, a Monday afternoon.
He was a sixth-grader, with just over a month until graduation.

The family disaster struck on February 10 next year, near the New Year.
His dad, as usual, drove his dump truck hauling bricks.
A drunk motorcyclist rear-ended him, carrying a family of four.
They all died, off to another world.

The other family was gone, leaving only elderly relatives.
Holding them fully responsible was tough.
At least they owed support for the elders, but it was a calamity.

His family had no connections.
The other side’s relatives, however, had influence.
Plus, his dad’s truck was overloaded, with damaged parts—a common issue.
They’d抓住 his dad’s “little tail.”

The details of the legal mess were fuzzy, but it came down to this: pay 980,000 yuan or serve three years.

That sum was astronomical.
In 2009, Peng City’s average housing price was 14,000 yuan per square meter.
The government’s stimulus flooded the market, but controls failed in Peng City.
Prices later soared past 20,000, then 50,000.

Family savings, his mom’s borrowed money, sold wedding rings, and insurance payouts weren’t enough.
His dad’s sentence was reduced to two years, but he came out changed.
Once just a smoker, he became an alcoholic and gambler—fully toxic.
Earnings went to casinos, debts piled up, and creditors hounded them before the New Year.

His mom, holding the family together, took a job at the city hospital’s endocrinology department for better pay.
Working 18-hour shifts, she collapsed during rounds.
Despite efforts, a ruptured artery took her life.

His dad only got back on track after her death, earning for the family but drinking heavily.
He couldn’t sleep without alcohol.
In Chen Qiao’s freshman year, his dad died of alcohol poisoning, leaving Chen Qiao, his sister, and Xin Yu to fend for themselves.

Now, everything could still be changed.
First, prevent that staged accident.
It didn’t just drain their savings—it broke his dad’s spirit.

Convincing his dad to change jobs seemed impossible.
As the family head, he had a typical patriarchal mindset of the time.
He’d driven a dump truck for over 20 years—it was all he knew.

Post-financial crisis, infrastructure boomed.
New rural projects flourished, and migrant workers sent money to rebuild homes.
It was a golden era for dump truck drivers like his dad, but the roads were dangerous.
Avoiding risks entirely wasn’t practical.

The drunk motorcyclist, carrying his wife and kids, was the real problem.
He’d likely been drinking at a gathering—maybe a wedding or funeral—and crashed.
His kids were probably twin daughters.

To prevent it, keep his dad off the road that day.
Sabotage his truck’s tires, maybe.
Then stop the drunk family—tell them to sleep it off, not ride without helmets, risking their kids’ lives.

Next, his mom’s health.
Without the accident or debt, with his dad as the family pillar, Chen Qiao could use his reborn knowledge to make money easily.
Writing rebirth novels, he’d researched plenty, never expecting to use it.

But his mom was a workaholic, always finding tasks—raising chickens, ducks, or vegetables.
Years ago, they raised pigs.
He and his sister slaved over pig feed, exhausting themselves.
When pork prices dropped, they lost money.

After much convincing from him and his sister, their mom stopped pig farming.
If his dad tried persuading, they’d just argue.

An idea hit: get his mom pregnant.
A baby would force her to rest during confinement.
Prenatal checkups could catch health issues, and she couldn’t overwork while pregnant—a perfect plan.

As a doctor, she’d dismiss a full hospital checkup as wasteful, claiming she knew her body best.
She’d only get a physical when joining a county or city hospital.

She could’ve worked at a better hospital but stayed in the countryside for Chen Qiao and his sister’s schooling.
When his sister went to city high school, his mom planned to follow.
But after his dad’s accident, she moved to the city early for work.

Since he was reborn, Chen Qiao clenched his fists, vowing to change it all.
No more wasted life—he’d rise above.

[Translation of the provided Chinese novel chapter into English, following the specified style guide]