“Fifth Brother, you don’t even need to intern anymore. Why insist on moving out? The dorm’s great—cheap and convenient.”
“Right? In a few months, we brothers will all be going our separate ways. Got to gather as much as we can now.”
Qiao Ning was carefully sorting through the various cards and documents in his hands, figuring out what each was for, and answered offhandedly: “I want to find a part-time job and save up a bit more money before graduation.”
Reborn back to the final stretch of university, everything was strange yet familiar. What thrilled him most was this healthy body of his now—able to run, to jump, to pull all-nighters… no, no. No more all-nighters, ever.
He’d worked himself to death for money, never enjoying a cent of it—earned it, never spent it, and died. Just thinking about it was enough to make him die of anger all over again.
The one mercy was that he’d written a will. His estate would be donated—there’d be nothing for that heartbreak of a father to pocket.
As for why Qiao Ning, so young, had written a will in the first place: because he liked men, his biological father had cursed him out six ways to Sunday, and his half-brother had even called specifically to sneer that it worked out perfectly—since Qiao Ning dated men and would have no kids, when he died all his money would go to him.
Qiao Ning hadn’t had much money even then, but every cent had been hard-earned by his own hands. On the spot, he’d written a will and had it notarized.
It had been done out of spite. Never in his wildest dreams did he expect it to actually come in handy.
He’d been unlucky since birth. A rare stroke of luck had given him a do-over—however he lived this life was his to choose, wasn’t it?
Besides…
Qiao Ning raised a hand and touched his forehead… he’d also had that kind of fortuitous encounter.
Once he said that, his roommates dropped the subject.
After three-plus years as roommates, everyone knew Qiao Ning’s situation at least somewhat.
Qiao Ning wasn’t the type to complain, but anyone could read from his food and clothing that his finances were tight.
Moreover, from freshman year on, Qiao Ning had been taking part-time jobs nonstop—and still kept up decent grades. He’d squeezed every last drop of free time dry. Gaming, parties, travel—none of it had anything to do with him.
At first, they’d all assumed his family was simply poor and couldn’t give him money.
As it happened, their Third Brother Wu Yiming was from the same city as Qiao Ning’s family, and through a tangled web of relatives and acquaintances had heard a scrap of gossip about the Qiao household—only then learning that their Fifth Brother was, frankly, a little bitter melon.
When he was born, his mother had suffered amniotic fluid embolism and couldn’t be saved. He came into the world motherless.
Then his father remarried at lightning speed. The second wife’s family was quite well-off—a local only daughter, with cars, a house, and storefronts.
As for why she’d fallen for Qiao Ning’s father—supposedly it was the face. Qiao Ning’s stepmother wasn’t much to look at.
The roommates looked at Qiao Ning’s handsome face. If Qiao Ning took after his father, that explanation carried a lot of weight.
They’d heard Qiao Ning had been sent to the countryside as a small child, and only brought back home when the elderly relative there passed and there was truly no one left to care for him.
When Qiao Ning first started university, he’d been dark and thin with dry, straw-like hair—dowdy clothes, dowdy haircut, a proper little country bumpkin. Even so, the excellence of his features showed through.
Over the years he’d filled out, grown a bit taller, gotten fairer—handsomer by the year. Posts about Qiao Ning on the campus forum had never stopped.
In short, everyone knew Qiao Ning had it rough at home.
It wasn’t that the family had no money—they just wouldn’t even pay his tuition. Their financial situation wasn’t bad at all; Qiao Ning couldn’t even get a student loan approved, because he couldn’t produce proof of financial hardship.
Thankfully he’d tested into a good school with reasonable tuition. Through sheer grit—working while studying, plus taking small freelance gigs in his field—he’d managed to grind through university.
The real pity was that Qiao Ning’s grades qualified him for a recommended graduate admission, and he’d given it up himself.
Grad school tuition was far higher than undergrad’s, and it demanded even more energy. After weighing it, Qiao Ning chose to enter the workforce right after graduation.
If he ever needed it later, he could always do a part-time master’s, right?
His roommates, still glowing with dreams of the future, had no idea what Qiao Ning knew all too well: that career would last six or seven years, that he’d grind out a down payment and grind his own life away with it.
Not this time.
He chose to lie flat.
As for what he’d eat and drink while lying flat, Qiao Ning already had a plan.
He was going back to his family hometown.
After Grandpa passed, he’d left behind a few old rooms and two mu of land. Remote countryside—neither the old house nor the land was worth much.
Without housing costs to worry about, just eating and drinking wouldn’t take much at all. Qiao Ning remembered living with Grandpa as a kid—they didn’t even spend one red bill a month, because the village didn’t even have a little corner store.
Thinking about it now—so what? Last life he’d worked himself to death; the delicious food went uneaten, the fun things untried.
He’d tried so hard to put down roots in that glittering metropolis, and in the end he was nothing but a passerby nobody cared about.
Better to go home.
Watch the mountains, gaze at the water, and try to live a few more years.
That was Qiao Ning’s greatest wish at present.
In this final semester, the roommates all had their own things going. Between working on their Graduation Design Projects, some were prepping for civil service exams, some for grad school entrance exams. The only one still gaming, Sixth Brother Lu Zeyu, had gotten recommended into grad school already.
Qiao Ning wasn’t taking any exams. Originally he only needed to focus on his Graduation Design Project—after all, he’d already signed his Tripartite Employment Agreement and had a job waiting after graduation.
Now even the project wasn’t a concern. He didn’t plan any big moves; his original project just needed a small upgrade and it would do.
What actually pained him was the signed Tripartite Employment Agreement. If he’d been reborn even a little earlier, he absolutely would never have signed it.
But there was nothing to be done now. Pay the breach penalty, then—so be it.
Working was out of the question. It was that job, after all, that kicked off his career as a Corporate Workhorse.
The company he’d signed with had decent benefits on paper, but it treated people like tools—especially fresh hires like him, more beast of burden than the beasts of burden. If he hadn’t job-hopped early, he might have died two years sooner.
Qiao Ning packed up his things in the dorm, sealing everything he needed for the rental apartment into bags. Whatever was still usable, he took.
The rental was one he’d leased for his internship—the school was simply too far from the internship company, nearly two hours by subway with transfers.
Breaking the lease now would cost him part of his Security Deposit. In his previous life, he’d terminated the lease and moved back to the dorm until graduation. But this time he had other things to do, and the dorm was inconvenient.
Reborn, Qiao Ning had checked his bank card. With no one looking after him since childhood, he’d always been short on money, and he had a powerful sense of crisis—without a certain amount of savings as a reserve fund, he panicked.
The habit of saving had held right up until his sudden death. Convenient for present-day Qiao Ning: his bank card held over twenty thousand yuan, and adding in his Alipay, WeChat, and other account balances, he could just barely scrape together thirty thousand.
But once the breach penalty was paid, he’d be down to just over twenty thousand.
Even though the countryside was cheap, Qiao Ning wanted to make a bit more money before heading back. Never mind anything else—the old house needed repairs, surely? A decades-old building; what if it collapsed?
“Eldest Brother, Second Brother, Sixth Brother—I’m off!” Lugging his luggage, Qiao Ning bid his roommates farewell.
Zhang Bowen and Qin Hao waved. Lu Zeyu, mid-game, didn’t pause his hands and muttered, “Stop calling me Sixth Brother!”
[T/N: A pun here: In modern internet and gaming culture, calling someone an “Old Six, or Sixth Brother” (老六) is calling them a ratty camper, a kill-stealing rat, or a sneaky troll.]
Qiao Ning didn’t answer. One hand on his luggage, the other pulling the door shut behind him, unaware of how light the smile on his face was.
How wonderful—roommates so vibrantly alive.
Unlike a few years from now, when work would drain the vitality from every last one of them.
And him—he’d simply been ground to death.
Out of school, Qiao Ning didn’t go straight to the rental apartment. He took a cab first to the city’s biggest Flower and Bird Market.
He’d never once been here before. Where would he ever have found the time or inclination to grow flowers, raise fish, keep birds?
He didn’t now either.
If he had to keep something, once he got home he’d grow some wildflowers. Free.
So why was he here spending money…
Qiao Ning rubbed his temple again.
And here’s the wondrous part: after his rebirth, Qiao Ning discovered he’d gained a Golden Finger.
So long as he focused his mind, he could sense a Spirit Spring.
Well—honestly, Qiao Ning didn’t know what exactly it was or what to call it. It was a tiny space, about one square meter, shrouded in thick fog all around; only this small pocket was visible to him.
There was nothing else in the space, just an octagonal well platform glowing with the luster of jade. Above the well platform hung more fog, but Qiao Ning instinctively felt it was different from the dense mist around the space’s edges.
From the fog above the well platform, something milky-white—water-like yet not quite water—dripped slowly down into the well. The well was full of the stuff. Qiao Ning didn’t know how to describe it and, for now, simply called it Spirit Spring.
Calling it water—well, it had a hint of milky white to it.
He’d tried extracting a single drop—so long as he concentrated on wanting it, he could draw Spirit Spring water out and have it appear on any part of his body. That drop looked no different from ordinary purified water.
Ever since discovering his Golden Finger, Qiao Ning had instinctively felt it was something good.
Vitality.
That was the clearest impression the Spirit Spring gave him, though he couldn’t say where such a strange feeling came from.
After producing that one drop, Qiao Ning had planned to taste it himself—but at his lips, he’d lost his nerve.
It felt like something good, but… but there was such a thing as a weak constitution unable to handle potent tonics!
What if it caused him problems? There’d be no one around to drive him to the hospital.
Having died suddenly once, Qiao Ning treasured his life above all else.
He’d found an empty water bottle, put the drop inside, and planned to test it on some plant or small animal later—but by the next day, the drop had lost its effect.
Qiao Ning could sense it: the vitality in that drop of Spirit Spring water had completely dissipated.
He, on the other hand, had slept exceptionally well that night.
