Chapter One: The Passionate Summer

Bang!

The sound of the porcelain pot shattering on the ground outside startled a flock of birds from their perch in the trees.

Ye Mian lowered her delicate, pale fingers from her forehead, her lashes trembling as she forced her eyes open.

As she looked at her slender, fair hands and the overly familiar old house before her, a flash of confusion flickered in her eyes.

For a moment, she couldn't even tell what year it was.

Hadn't she... died in the line of duty?

Bang—bang bang!

The crisp sound of knocking echoed sharply in the empty room, dragging Ye Mian's consciousness back from the haze.

She frowned, propping herself up with effort from the headboard to get up and open the door.

Passing through the living room, she caught sight of an old-fashioned wall calendar hanging by the wall. One glance at the year printed on it sent another jolt through her heart.

"Who is it?"

When she opened the door, the stuffy air inside was instantly swept away by a cool, gentle breeze.

She had barely spoken when she saw a slender, youthful figure standing outside. He had fair skin, black hair, and an air of casual indifference, his long legs standing straight.

He was tall and thin, his whole bearing cold and aloof. His lips were pale, and in his hand he held two stalks of lucky bamboo.

A ghastly wound marred his temple, and at this very moment... blood was still seeping from it!

Ye Mian stood frozen.

It was... Jiang Chen!

The throbbing ache at the corner of her eye reminded her with painful clarity—this was no dream.

She'd suffered an accident while working a case.

Now, upon opening her eyes again, Jiang Chen was before her.

This realization sent her heart racing.

She hadn't yet figured out what was happening when Jiang Chen turned his head and met her gaze.

His eyes were jet black, like ink-stained lakes in a landscape painting, his features strikingly handsome yet cold, his brows and eyes deep-set and indifferent.

Only the vivid red gash on his forehead marred an otherwise perfect scene.

As if noticing the blood dripping down, Jiang Chen raised his hand and carelessly wiped at the stain, leaving a few faint and deep marks on his cool, pale fingers.

Just watching made Ye Mian wince in pain, but she dared not move.

That face was engraved too deeply in her memory.

This was a murderer—the kind who could stab a victim over twenty times without so much as a change in expression.

The last time she had seen Jiang Chen before her death, he had been just like this: drenched in blood, hands cuffed, looking exactly as he did now.

Two nearly identical scenes overlapped in her mind.

It made it even harder for Ye Mian to distinguish reality from illusion.

Alone, facing this dangerous figure, she couldn't help but tremble, every sense on high alert.

It was then that Jiang Chen, who had been silent, suddenly reached out his hand and bent down slightly.

Ye Mian, tense as a drawn bow, instinctively took a step back.

Her right hand reached automatically for her waistband—only to find the place where her service pistol should have been was empty.

Her mind went blank for a second.

Out of professional habit, she didn't hesitate—she went for close combat, locking her arms around Jiang Chen's neck, her heart pounding as she warned, "Don't move."

...

Jiang Chen froze. As he felt the sudden rush of the girl into his arms, he wondered if he'd been hit so hard by the lucky bamboo that he was hallucinating. But her movements were too quick—he hadn't even had time to dodge.

The softness of her scent and the firmness of her warning still lingered by his ear.

Her hold was precise, nearly choking him, but the force was too weak; he could easily break free with a single twist.

Yet Jiang Chen did not move.

Assuming his wound had frightened her, he lowered his eyes, kept his waist slightly bent, and replied gently, "Alright."

Ye Mian was surprised by his compliance. She breathed a faint sigh of relief and finally glanced at Jiang Chen's right hand.

Then, she was dumbfounded once more.

There was no knife in Jiang Chen's hand—just two stalks of green lucky bamboo.

Looking down at herself, dressed in pink pajamas, she realized she looked exactly like a high school girl.

Her mind crashed.

Realizing her mistake, Ye Mian hesitated, not knowing what to do. She cautiously released her grip, panic flickering in her eyes.

"Sorry, I thought you were someone else." She apologized while stealing a glance at the boy's reaction.

But there was nothing. Nothing at all.

His expression remained unchanged, his features gentle yet cold, showing not the slightest sign of being startled. He simply set the lucky bamboo down at the door, turned, and walked away, vanishing into the rain that soon soaked his clothes, his figure quickly lost from sight.

Ye Mian numbly picked up the lucky bamboo, and only then, belatedly, did she shut the door.

Back inside, her mind was still a haze. She rubbed her eyes and stared in a daze at the familiar yet strangely distant furnishings. Finally, when she saw the thick stack of high school textbooks on her desk, she understood one thing.

She had truly come back!

She had returned to the year she was eighteen.

Yet before she could fully savor the immense joy of a second chance at life, she began to worry.

She'd barely been reborn and already provoked someone as dangerous as Jiang Chen. Who knew what kind of temper he had? If he held a grudge... would her new life be any better than the last?

Thinking back to her previous life, Ye Mian realized she knew very little about what kind of person Jiang Chen truly was.

But she remembered his ending all too clearly.

They had once been neighbors, though scarcely interacted, and after starting university, she never saw him again.

For a long time, she didn't give him a second thought.

But despite their tenuous connection, the name Jiang Chen had crossed her path three times.

The first was through school: Jiang Chen, the top science student in Ning City’s college entrance exams, universally praised by his teachers.

The second came from financial news stories: the future scion of Ning City’s elite, a name everyone in the city would remember.

The third...

She witnessed with her own eyes—he was escorted into the interrogation room, his name on the case file in her hands.

Yes, she was a detective.

That day had been her first as a full, official officer—and he was her first case. When she took custody from the patrol officers, he was already in the interrogation room.

She didn't know the details of his crime.

She only heard he'd killed someone with his own hands—brutally, as if butchering livestock, stabbing the victim over twenty times.

When her colleagues arrived at the scene, he’d stood there covered in blood, making no attempt to flee.

It was only after reviewing the case file that Ye Mian connected this strikingly handsome criminal with the famous Jiang Chen.

She remembered that dusky evening, the moment she left the interrogation room, and Jiang Chen’s eyes.

How to describe it?

It was an oppressive feeling.

Especially when their gazes met from afar—the cold indifference in his eyes and that barely-there smile at his lips haunted her mind.

He walked slowly, handcuffed, but with a steady step.

There was no trace of a fallen criminal about him; he was still the same arrogant, untouchable figure of power.