Senior year was brutal.
Shen Weiyue had always felt that senior year was like being in prison. Waking up at six every morning and working until ten-thirty at night before going home—more ruthless than a 996 schedule. Even capitalists would shed tears if they saw it.
Ling Shan County No.1 High School, as the top school in the county and the only key provincial high school, had an even more inhumane schedule.
The school followed the philosophy: as long as you don’t study yourself to death, study like you’re about to die. There were only 24 hours of rest each week, and even that was fragmented.
There was no evening self-study on Saturday, but classes resumed at five in the afternoon on Sunday. Being given a daytime break at all was already considered a great favor.
So Shen Weiyue happily slept in, not waking up until nine on Sunday morning. After breakfast, he headed out to wander around.
Normally, boys didn’t enjoy shopping, but having just been reborn, he couldn’t wait to relive the days of being eighteen—to measure the length of youth with his own footsteps.
The county town wasn’t large. At this time, there was only one bus line, covering key locations like the No.1 High School, the bus station, and the commercial pedestrian street, costing 2 yuan per ride.
More common were rickshaws, powered by human labor—clean and environmentally friendly.
Shen Weiyue didn’t take a ride. The school was located in the center of town, and it only took a little over ten minutes to walk to the commercial street.
Calling it a commercial street was a bit of a stretch. It was just a row of shops lining the road, slightly livelier than other places.
Back then, the streets were filled with brands like Xtep, Li-Ning, and Metersbonwe. There were also Nike and Adidas specialty stores, but most people didn’t dare to enter.
After all, most students came from rural areas with limited living expenses. Even if they went inside, they couldn’t afford a single pair of shoes, and it would only add to their sense of inferiority.
Shen Weiyue, however, felt much more at ease now. He went into the stores, looked at the classic styles, but didn’t buy anything, earning a few eye-rolls from the shop assistants.
As he passed each shop, he would almost always step inside to take a look.
In his ears were the classic songs of that era.
Jay Chou’s “Hair Like Snow” and “Far Away,” S.H.E’s “I Don’t Want to Grow Up,” Xiao Gang’s “Lonely Sandbank Cold.”
Of course, there were also Dao Lang’s songs, whose charm could only truly be appreciated with age—like “Lover” and “Punishment of Impulse,” as well as the bold “Perfume Is Toxic.”
Other songs like “Autumn Doesn’t Return” and “Peach Blossoms Bloom” were also wildly popular.
It was truly an era where legends clashed.
Sometimes Shen Weiyue felt a bit saddened thinking about it. Even more than a decade later, these songs were still the backbone of karaoke playlists.
The aesthetic of that rising economic era had suppressed an entire generation, leaving later trends forever living in its shadow.
Good songs had that kind of power—they could make people stop in their tracks just by listening.
Music drifted out from an old bookstore.
So Shen Weiyue squatted down and picked out a yellowed copy of “You Meng Ying,” printed in traditional Chinese characters, for 1 yuan.
Music played again at a pawn shop.
Director Shen paused once more, but this time he couldn’t afford anything. The handheld console loaded with Monster Hunter cost several hundred yuan.
Further ahead, music came from an internet café. He stood at the entrance for a long time.
Some people were playing “Zhu Xian,” others “QQ Speed,” and still others “Fantasy Westward Journey”…
“No, I didn’t bring money today.”
Shen Weiyue remembered Han the Old Devil’s warning. He slapped his restless fingers hard a few times, gritted his teeth, and kept walking.
Once he left the influence of the internet café behind, his mind gradually settled.
Damn it, games really are tempting.
He wiped the sweat from his forehead. His younger self had such weak self-control—it was fortunate he had brought some of his older self’s discipline back to suppress those impulses.
In his previous life, he had started high school with excellent grades but ended up only getting into an ordinary key university. The root cause was simple—growing up in the countryside, he had too little exposure and was completely led astray by online games and novels.
A village kid starved of entertainment had no way to resist that kind of “spiritual opium.”
If you can’t resist temptation, then stay away from it.
Only discipline brings freedom.
Shen Weiyue had already decided—until the college entrance exam was over, he wouldn’t step near an internet café again.
He strolled aimlessly.
In this raw and untamed era, it wasn’t uncommon to see boys with dyed yellow hair covering one eye, or girls with colorful hairstyles and bold attitudes.
They often lingered around hair salons, and when Shen Weiyue passed by, some even waved at him, calling out, “Handsome, come in and have some fun.”
He didn’t get annoyed. Instead, he smiled and took in everything around him, feeling a rare sense of familiarity.
Passing through a row of phone shops, he continued forward until he reached the clothing district of the pedestrian street.
This was the busiest area in the county. With clothing stores lining both sides, it was the most lively and crowded place.
By the roadside, vendors sold freshly baked rice flour triangular cakes for 0.5 yuan each. Their surfaces were crispy, with a slight sweet and sour taste.
Shen Weiyue bought two. They were so hot that he had to switch hands while eating. Before he knew it, he had stopped in front of a shop.
It was a women’s clothing store, decorated with a large glass floor-to-ceiling window. Compared to the surrounding shops, it looked far more upscale, and the clothes inside weren’t cheap.
“Mom, these pants feel so tight. I don’t want to wear them…”
“Just try them. You can wear them when you go to university. It’s not far off now. Tsk tsk, my daughter is really beautiful.”
Shen Weiyue was about to leave when he heard the conversation between a mother and daughter. One of the voices sounded strangely familiar—like the Zhao Buqun who had made him stay up writing a self-criticism.
Sure enough, a figure walked toward the mirror, and he saw her clearly at once.
It really was Zhao Qingyan.
This top student seemed to be shopping for summer clothes.
She was wearing a white short-sleeved T-shirt with a Snoopy cartoon design—cute and pure, with a touch of playfulness.
Her hair wasn’t tied in its usual high ponytail. Instead, it was let down, falling straight over her shoulders, adding a hint of femininity.
Most importantly, she was wearing a pair of tight-fitting jeans.
That was simply too much to handle. Find the original chapter at g.com.
The jeans outlined her long, straight legs, freeing them from the usual loose school uniform pants. Her legs were perfectly proportioned—even Shen Weiyue, with his high standards from the future, had to admit they were exceptional.
On top of that, her figure was naturally perfect, far beyond the artificially enhanced shapes people would pursue years later.
Having lived two lifetimes, Shen Weiyue finally realized he had always underestimated her.
This aloof campus belle who didn’t fit in was not only brilliant and beautiful—her figure was astonishing as well.
Zhao Qingyan, Zhao Qingyan… why didn’t you tell me something this important earlier?
Director Shen never gives free looks. I’ll give you 99 points—one more would make you arrogant.
Perhaps sensing something, Zhao Qingyan turned her head toward the door—and their eyes met instantly.
That damned Yue Buqun was standing there with a piece of rice cake in his mouth, like a dog holding a bone, staring at her in a daze, completely forgetting to chew.
“Ah!”
Zhao Buqun let out a sharp scream. Her face flushed red as she quickly grabbed a piece of clothing and wrapped it around her waist.
“What’s wrong?”
Lu Chunyue hurried over.
Shen Weiyue resumed chewing calmly, as if nothing had happened.
“Baby, is that your classmate?”
“Yes, my dumb donkey deskmate.”
In her panic, Zhao Qingyan revealed the nickname she had given him.
Shen Weiyue’s heart sank.
The intellectual superiority chain was terrifying. A future top university student was just a donkey in the eyes of this genius girl.
“Fox deskmate, what a coincidence.”
Hmph, you call me a donkey, I’ll call you a fox.
Zhao Qingyan glared at him, full of youthful energy.
Lu Chunyue burst into laughter.
“Student, what’s your name? I’m Qingyan’s mother. You can call me Aunt Lu.”
“Hello, Aunt Lu. I’m Shen Weiyue.”
“Student Shen, are you shopping too?”
“I’m just passing by. I’m heading to the bookstore, so I won’t disturb your shopping.”
Shen Weiyue pointed toward the Xinhua Bookstore ahead, waved his rice cake casually, and walked off with ease.
So this is the length of youth…
Probably just over 1 meter.
About the same as Zhao Qingyan’s leg length.