Yanjing City.
Zhichun Dongli.
12:15 a.m.
Wei Yi set his phone alarm for 3:50, placed it on the bedside table, turned off the lights, and went to sleep.
A little while later, he rolled over.
He couldn't fall asleep.
After a while, he rolled over again.
Still couldn't sleep.
He'd napped in the afternoon, then had two cans of beer that evening, and his mind was filled with World Cup odds and the Brazil team's lineup.
On top of that, his older sister was sleeping right next door. Just thinking about the look she'd given him earlier made his skin crawl.
Forget it.
He closed his eyes and silently recited the Internal Martial Arts mantra.
Focus the mind on the Dantian; sink the qi to Yongquan.
Once, twice, three times.
At some point, he drifted off.
……
“Beep, beep-beep—”
The alarm went off.
Wei Yi fumbled for his phone and swiped his thumb across the screen. The world fell silent.
He squinted and waited for his soul to return to his body.
When he opened his eyes again, the screen showed 4:08.
Damn it.
That little doze had lasted nearly twenty minutes.
You really couldn't afford to go back to sleep.
He threw off the covers, stepped barefoot onto the floor, and went to the bathroom. He turned on the tap, scooped up some cold water, and splashed it on his face. Only then was he fully awake.
Back in his bedroom, he turned on the 32-inch TV his older sister had recently had installed there especially so he could watch the game.
Then he switched to TV5.
Duan Xuan's voice came first, and the picture lit up a moment later. The São Paulo Itaquera Stadium was awash in yellow and green, and the Brazilian fans' faces were painted like palettes.
The match had already been underway for ten minutes.
Wei Yi leaned back against the bed, propping a pillow behind his lower back. It was just right.
He was a die-hard fan and had always loved watching football.
In his previous life, it had been fine. But in this life, he'd placed a bet, so watching the game was even more thrilling and nerve-racking.
Even though he knew the score, his heart still rose and fell with the ball.
It was exhilarating.
The 11th minute.
A Croatia player dribbled past the defense down the left wing and sent a cross into the Brazil team's penalty area. A cluster of players rushed forward, their legs tangling together. The ball took a touch from someone and rolled into the goal.
“It's in! The ball's in! Marcelo of the Brazil team made a mistake and put it into his own net. It's an own goal! The referee signals that the goal stands—Croatia leads 1–0!”
Duan Xuan's voice was as raspy as a gong.
Wei Yi remained expressionless.
An own goal. He'd known about it in his previous life. Croatia's goal was exactly what he needed for his 3–1 bet. Brazil still had to score three more. Plenty of time.
……
The 29th minute.
Neymar got the ball outside the penalty area and curled a shot with his left foot.
The ball arced through the air, struck the inside of the post, and bounced into the net.
1–1.
Wei Yi loosened his clenched fist.
The first half ended without either side scoring again.
He got up, grabbed a can of beer from the fridge, popped the tab, and took a swig. The cold liquid slid down his throat. Refreshing.
It tasted even better with the braised beef, smashed cucumber, and peanuts Sister Lin had prepared in advance.
In his previous life, his older sisters had been so well-off that their family always had a housekeeper.
The housekeepers did most of the cooking, though Sister Lin and the girlfriends of his other older sisters would also occasionally cook.
Lin Siyan was the best cook among them.
The second half began.
In the 69th minute, the Brazil team was awarded a penalty.
Neymar stood at the spot, ran up, and placed the ball into the net.
2–1.
Wei Yi set the empty beer can on the bedside table and changed position, sitting upright instead of reclining.
Then time began to slow down.
Seventy minutes, eighty minutes, eighty-five minutes. The Brazil team launched one attack after another, but the ball just wouldn't go in.
The 89th minute.
Four minutes of stoppage time.
Wei Yi began to feel a little panicked.
A football match lasted 90 minutes, with only a few minutes of stoppage time.
The score was still 2–1.
The Brazil team had to score one more for his 3–1 bet to win.
But they'd only scored twice in the first 90 minutes. Could they score again in these last few minutes?
Had he remembered wrong?
Or had this little butterfly of his flapped its wings and caused some kind of change?
Or maybe this wasn't a rebirth at all, but a transmigration into a parallel world?
All sorts of chaotic thoughts flooded his mind.
The 91st minute.
The Brazil team won the ball in their own half and launched a quick counterattack.
Oscar received the ball upfield, rounded the goalkeeper, and shot into the far corner.
The ball rolled in.
“It's in! Oscar scores his second goal of the match, helping the host nation, Brazil, add another! The score is now 3–1, with Brazil leading by two!”
Wei Yi sprang off the bed and bounced twice on it, mouth open as he silently punched the air, swallowing his shout before it could escape his throat.
There were still people sleeping next door.
The final whistle blew.
“The match is over! Brazil beats Croatia 3–1!”
Wei Yi let out a long breath.
But he still couldn't quite relax.
He grabbed his phone and opened the betting page on Zhifubao. A little circle spun for several seconds.
The balance refreshed.
202,700.
He stared at the numbers, his thumb hovering over the screen for a long while.
Fifteen thousand had turned into two hundred thousand.
He refreshed it again.
Still 202,700.
He refreshed it once more.
It was still there.
Wei Yi tossed his phone onto the bed, lay flat on his back, and stared at the ceiling.
Outside the window, the sky over Yanjing was already turning pale. It was almost six.
But there was no way he could sleep. He'd napped in the afternoon, slept a few hours that night, and now the two hundred thousand he'd just won had his blood running hot.
After checking the balance one more time, he finally confirmed one thing.
The benefits of rebirth were real.
So was the information advantage.
There was so much he could turn into cold, hard cash with the memories of these twelve years.
Since he couldn't sleep anyway,
Wei Yi changed into his workout clothes, put on his sneakers, and quietly opened the security door.
He went downstairs.
The little garden at Zhichun Dongli was right downstairs. It wasn't big, with a few ginkgo and rose trees and a paved open space in the middle.
The June morning was still a little cool. The breeze carried the dampness of the dew, and felt pleasant against his face.
The whole complex was quiet. There wasn't even anyone walking a dog.
Wei Yi stood still, closed his eyes, and raised his hands to begin.
Grasp the Sparrow's Tail.
That familiar, cozy warmth immediately surged up from his lower abdomen, climbed along his spine, and flowed through his limbs.
He continued through the forms: Single Whip, Raise Hands, and White Crane Spreads Its Wings.
Each movement was smoother than it had been the previous two days, and his breathing and movements fell into perfect rhythm.
In his previous life, it had taken him half a week to find that “sensation of qi.” In this life, he had felt it on the very first day. Today was the third day, and the heat already felt like it was surging.
By the third round, a light sweat had broken out on his back, and his whole body felt indescribably comfortable.
He settled into a final stance and exhaled slowly.
His thoughts turned to planning.
At this rate, in a month he'd have no reason to fear the Great Demon King.
In his previous life, without any martial arts training, he'd been able to take five rounds against Chen Xinyi without losing, even at her peak.
In this life, his eighteen-year-old body was already at its prime, and on top of that, he had this set of forms—
Wait.
Wei Yi smacked his forehead.
He'd died in his previous life because he'd gotten carried away. How had that old habit come back as soon as he'd won two hundred thousand?
“Young man, those moves of yours are pretty interesting. Where'd you learn them?”
The voice came from behind him, a little hoarse but full of vigor.
Wei Yi turned around.
An old man stood by the flower bed, wearing a white undershirt and black lantern pants. He held an enamel mug printed with the words, “In memory of the retired cadres' activities of the Statistical System.”
Wei Yi's heart gave a little jolt.
Uncle Zhou.
A retired official from the National Bureau of Statistics, he lived in Building Ten, the same building as Wei Yi.
In his previous life, Wei Yi had lived here for over a year and visited every holiday. Later, when the children needed to go to school, his older sister wanted to buy an apartment in the complex for its school district, and Uncle Zhou had helped put her in touch with someone.
They went way back.
The old man was a good person, but he was also quite the chatterbox. He couldn't go three sentences without mentioning his daughter, who worked on Financial Street.
In his previous life, Wei Yi had heard plenty about his daughter, Zhou Min, or Auntie Zhou.
Auntie Zhou worked on Financial Street in investment. She was sharp and capable, but her judgment could have been better.
In early 2016, she invested in OFO's Angel Round. Later, the cash-burning war, the collapse of its funding chain, and the inability to get deposits back caused all that money to go down the drain.
She'd been upset about it for years, and brought it up every time she came back to visit Uncle Zhou.
“I just made them up myself, sir,” Wei Yi replied with a smile.
Uncle Zhou shook his head and walked a couple of steps closer, holding his mug as he looked Wei Yi up and down. “Doesn't look like you just made them up.”
“And it's rare for someone your age to get up this early to exercise.” Uncle Zhou took a sip of tea and sat down by the flower bed. “Young people these days are either working overtime or sleeping in. Seeing someone in the complex at six is a rare sight.”
“The Gaokao just ended. I've got nothing to do.”
“Oh? How'd you do?”
“Pretty well, I think. I estimate around 560.”
Uncle Zhou nodded and naturally continued, “That's not bad. My daughter only got 580 back in the day, and she still made something of herself. Now she works over on Financial Street, doing some kind of investment work. She's so busy she barely has time to breathe. Ah, what a pain.”
Here it comes.
Same line as in his previous life.
“It's a good thing for young people to be busy,” Wei Yi said, going along with him.
“What's so good about it?” Uncle Zhou waved a hand. “She hardly comes home at all during the year, and when she does, she goes on about sharing this, the internet that, and some kind of trend. I don't understand a word of it. Oh, right. Last time she said a few Peking University students were working on some kind of shared bicycles. What was it called again…”
“Bike-sharing?” Wei Yi blurted out.
“That's it, that's it!” Uncle Zhou slapped his thigh, sloshing tea out of his enamel mug. “You know about it too?”
Wei Yi nodded, trying to sound casual. “I've heard of it. I think a few Peking University graduates are working on it. They only started recently.”
His thoughts churned.
OFO had been launched in April 2014 by Dai Wei, a Peking University graduate. At first it was just called “ofo”; it hadn't yet officially been renamed “OFO Xiaohuangche.”
At this point, the whole project was still just a fledgling idea on the Peking University campus. Mobike wouldn't be founded until 2015.
This market seemed to be just starting to take off.
Just then, his phone vibrated.
He took it out and saw Chen Xinyi's name.
He answered. Her voice was groggy with sleep, tinged with worry. “Where'd you go? I pushed open your bedroom door and you weren't there.”
“I'm downstairs doing morning exercise, sis. Couldn't sleep.”
There was a moment of silence on the other end. Chen Xinyi's tone softened, then she turned stern again. “Morning exercise? You were up all night and you're exercising? Get upstairs and take a shower. We'll go get breakfast together.”
“Okay, coming right up.”
After hanging up, Wei Yi said goodbye to Uncle Zhou.
Uncle Zhou waved with a smile, raising his enamel mug. “Not bad, young man. Come again tomorrow morning.”
“You're out here at this time every day too, sir?”
“Every day, unless there's a torrential rain, strong winds, or heavy snow.”
He went upstairs and opened the door. Lin Siyan, apparently already washed up, was sitting on the living-room sofa tying her hair. At the sound of the door opening, she looked over and smiled.
Chen Xinyi was sitting cross-legged on the sofa, still in her pajamas. When Wei Yi came in, she glanced up at him, her gaze lingering on his face for two seconds.
“You're covered in sweat. Go shower first.”
“Mm.”
“When you're done, get dressed. We'll go have breakfast together.”
“Got it, sis.”
Wei Yi headed for the bathroom.
Behind him, Chen Xinyi spoke to Lin Siyan in a light, airy tone. “Siyan, why do you think he went downstairs to exercise so early? He was never this diligent at home before.”
Lin Siyan chuckled but said nothing.