Shanghai, Feiyu Technology Headquarters
Chen Yansen reclined in his top-floor office, tearing open a foil packet and swallowing a diamond-shaped blue tablet with a sip of warm water.
Once you hit thirty, a man really needs every edge technology can provide.
At thirty-four, after over a decade of relentless work, he owned a sprawling 500-square-ter villa, a Maybach GLS600 worth three million yuan, and a company listed on the main board. Being single only amplified his fascination with younger won. Upward social mobility through a tycoon husband—who hasn't dread of it?
Money could be discussed freely—but emotions? Absolutely off-limits.
"Dad, I bought a very revealing swimsuit," pinged a ssage on his phone.
Chen Yansen smirked. Cheng Guo, his girlfriend for years, perfectly balanced innocence in public with allure in private. She called him "President Chen" by day and "Dad" by night—an irresistible combination.
Timing the tablet's effect, he replied, "Dad prefers Angelmon. Stay ho and be patient." Without waiting for a reply, he headed for the parking lot.
A sleek black Maybach roared onto Yixian Avenue, rging into the North-South Elevated Road traffic. Neon lights blurred, car lights streaming like molten stars across the asphalt.
Monts later, Chen Yansen felt a sudden tightness in his chest, a throb in his head, and weakness creeping into his hands.
"Damn! The drug hits harder than I expected..."
The steering wheel slipped from his grip. The car hurtled through the guardrail, soaring dozens of ters into the air. A deafening crash swallowed him. Darkness claid him.
"...Chen Yansen! Wake up!"
A voice pierced through the void. Weightlessness vanished, pain subsided, and a flash of white light returned him to consciousness.
"Look at the ti! The party was at 7:30, and you're still sleeping at 8:15!"
Before him stood a slightly chubby, dark-skinned boy, around seventeen or eighteen, looking both anxious and helpless.
"Wang Zihao?" Chen Yansen froze.
mories collided violently. In his future life, Wang Zihao had been married to a scheming woman whose betrayal had left a permanent scar: a dark-skinned son born from her affair with a black man. The scandal had sparked family fights, broken inheritances, and ultimately Wang Zihao's tragic death.
And yet—here he was, alive, standing before him, as if nothing had happened. And the dark-skinned son? That child only existed in Chen Yansen's mories from the future. In this new tiline, none of it had happened yet.
"Wait a minute… none of this should exist now!" Chen Yansen's mind raced.
"Weren't you dead?" he asked cautiously.
"Pah! Don't spout nonsense. Get moving, or I'll—" Wang Zihao tossed a shirt at him.
Chen Yansen glanced around. He was in a worn-down bathhouse, a place untouched since university. Wang Zihao tried to dress him, but Chen Yansen waved him off and got ready himself.
Passing a mirror, he saw his reflection: long hair with a side-swept fringe, one eye exposed, a faint black fuzz around his mouth—youthful, unpolished, yet strikingly different from his future self.
mories surged back. Sumr 2010. After submitting his university applications, he had dragged Wang Zihao to a bathhouse for a dinner party.
"I've been reborn!" Chen Yansen shivered.
Not entirely thrilled—aside from his kidneys, everything else in 2026 had been perfect. And sixty million yuan still sat in his account.
Wang Zihao hailed a taxi. "Did you fight with Zhou Keyuan? Is that why you're late?"
Chen Yansen observed Chun Shen in 2010. She was less polished than ten years later, yet more grounded, more approachable. His refusal to marry in his past life had reasons: Wang Zihao's experience and Zhou Keyuan's manipulations. He had been naive, completely fooled, devoted for six years.
"Taxi's here! Hurry!" Wang Zihao urged.
"Relax. Let's get a haircut first," Chen Yansen replied.
The taxi driver, annoyed, drove off while Wang Zihao apologized. Chen Yansen chuckled—the old taxi industry had been arrogant, yet its glory days were over.
"Let's go, Daddy! I'll tell the boss we'll be late," Wang Zihao sighed.
"For calling 'Dad,' I'll treat your son like my own," Chen Yansen said, slinging an arm around him with a grin.
"You just talk about !" Wang Zihao grumbled.
At the barbershop, Chen Yansen requested spiky bangs, eyeing the barber's punk-style side-swept haircut.
"Easy. Are you sure?" the barber asked.
"Yes. Even a buzz cut would suit better," Chen Yansen shrugged.
"Another heartbroken teen starting over," the barber mused, misting his hair.
Snip—snip. Hair fell in clumps, revealing a broad forehead, chiseled and refined—a stark contrast to his forr self.
"A second chance isn't bad. At least my kidneys are new," Chen Yansen muttered.
Opportunities awaited: Bitcoin, e-comrce, short videos, smart chips, AI—any could make him a billionaire.
"Ding! The fla of life rises, healing the heart and transforming into an immortal."
"Fla of Godhood System activated!"
A semi-transparent panel floated mid-air, bathed in blue starlight. Chen Yansen narrowed his eyes, deep in thought.
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