For those who love the fast pace, Yanzu and Yifei, you're in luck.
Mind storage area.
System collection point.
Ding, system activated.
Ding, protagonist's lifespan: 100 years.
The end.
Buzz, buzz, buzz, buzz, buzz.
The morning sunlight slipped through the gap in the curtains, landing right on Lu Yibei's eyelids. His phone on the bedside table vibrated incessantly, thudding against the bed frame like someone drilling into his ear.
Lu Yibei pulled the blanket over his head.
The phone, ever diligent, didn't abandon its wake-up call just because he refused to get up.
With eyes closed, he reached out, groping for the phone but only managed to slap the wall, his palm stinging with pain. He gasped, ready to change positions and continue sleeping when the alarm suddenly announced:
"The time is now 7:52."
Lu Yibei's eyes snapped open.
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7:52.
Lu Yibei had an 8 AM class.
He sprang from the bed, nearly hitting his head on the upper bunk's railing. No time to cry out in pain, he slid down the ladder. As soon as his feet touched the ground, he grabbed the T-shirt draped over the chair and pulled it over his head, realizing halfway through that it was inside out.
No time to fix it.
At this point, as long as the clothes covered him, they were doing their job; front and back were just additional features.
Pants, shoes, phone, campus card.
Hopping on one foot to put on his shoes, Lu Yibei swept his hand across the desk. His textbooks fell to the floor, the charging cable tangled around his wrist, and the half-full bottle of mineral water from yesterday rolled under the bed.
He glanced down.
Forget it.
Whether he could make it to the classroom alive in eight minutes was uncertain; the fate of a bottle of water was beyond his control now.
Grabbing his textbooks, he dashed out of the dormitory.
As the door clicked shut, the time on his phone jumped to 7:54.
Great, six minutes.
From the dorm to the teaching building, a normal person would take fifteen minutes on foot, seven minutes by bike, but Lu Yibei only had six minutes left.
It seemed like an unsolvable math problem.
But the questioner clearly underestimated a college student's survival instincts when faced with attendance.
Lu Yibei dashed down the stairs, scanned the code, unlocked the bike, and pedaled away in one fluid motion. A fellow student who had just bought breakfast felt a gust of wind pass by, and when they looked up, he was already ten meters away on a shared bike.
If Pengcheng University held an "8 AM Late Arrival Speed Race," he could at least make the school team as a substitute.
Along the way, Lu Yibei overtook three leisurely cyclists, one person eating a bun while walking, and two other unfortunates racing against time.
In the face of an 8 AM class, there are no familial ties; the attendance sheet reveals all.
At 7:59, Lu Yibei parked the shared bike in the designated area and sprinted up the stairs. As the class bell rang, he slipped through the back door into the classroom.
The teacher on the podium glanced up at him.
Lu Yibei leaned against the doorframe, chest heaving, forcing a respectful smile.
The teacher checked the time, then looked at him again.
"Right on time."
"Of course," Lu Yibei panted, "timeliness is key for modern college students."
Someone in the classroom couldn't help but laugh.
The teacher didn't expose him, merely gesturing to the back row.
Lu Yibei walked in with his textbooks, found an empty seat, and sat down. As his butt hit the chair, he felt his soul finally catch up with his body.
Though he was there, his spirit was still on the way.
He lay on the desk for a while until his heartbeat no longer felt like a dance party in his chest, then slowly straightened up.
The sound of flipping through course materials came from the podium. A breeze blew in from the window, and the fan above turned leisurely. Students in the front row took notes, while someone nearby hid their phone under a textbook, fingers swiping rapidly across the screen.
Everything seemed ordinary.
So ordinary that Lu Yibei sometimes forgot this wasn't the world he originally lived in.
His name was Lu Yibei, from Earth Village.
Yes, the place that sounds like an international community but where billions of people don't know each other.
Now, he was a sophomore at Blue Star's Pengcheng University.
As for how he got here, it's not complicated, even a bit hasty.
One 1-Kun Year ago, he was still on Earth.
That day, Lu Yibei had the rare chance to sleep in, waking naturally to sunlight streaming into the room. He lay in bed playing on his phone for a while, then engaged in an intense mental debate, ultimately convincing himself to get up.
He put on his slippers, yawning as he walked to the door, and pushed open his bedroom door.
Outside wasn't the familiar living room.
It was here.
No car accident, no lightning strike.
Lu Yibei simply opened a door and switched worlds.
He stood at the doorway, stunned for a long time.
"Hey, it's been too long since I rested. Waking up too quickly doesn't count, let's try again."
It didn't work.
The Earth behind the door was gone.
Lu Yibei opened it three more times.
The first time was the dorm, the second was still the dorm, and the third was, again, the dorm.
Turns out, crossing worlds doesn't support repeated attempts.
Even more absurd, he had become younger.
Not young enough to relearn basic math, but at least from an adult ground down by life to a college student with plenty of time to waste.
College life is great.
Young, energetic, with a future full of possibilities.
The downside is having 8 AM classes.
Lu Yibei glanced at the podium, then at his trembling hands from running, and the romanticized view of youth in his mind shattered halfway.
But in terms of results, this crossing wasn't a loss.
Looking on the bright side, he did get a restart.
And the initial conditions of this restart were decent. Limbs intact, healthy body, no deep-seated grudges, and no one holding a knife to his throat upon waking.
Life here was very similar to Earth.
Phones, computers, takeout, online shopping, short videos, online games, all present. University classes still needed attending, assignments still needed submitting, and the cafeteria auntie's hand still inexplicably trembled when serving meat.
When he first arrived, Lu Yibei worried he'd slip up due to different common knowledge.
Later, he realized he was overthinking.
People here ate when hungry, slept when tired, and shared superstitious images before exams. Young people talked about taking it easy, but when the alarm rang, they still got up for class; workers talked about quitting every day, but on payday, they felt the company could be saved for another month.
Human mental states are remarkably stable, no matter where.
He spent two and a half years, a full 1-Kun Year, fully adapting to life here.
Of course, when he first confirmed his crossing, Lu Yibei had some bold ideas befitting a transmigrator.
Like becoming a plagiarist.
He couldn't make chips, didn't understand engines, but he'd heard songs, watched movies, read novels, right? Just bring over a few works Blue Star didn't have, and the royalties would roll in.
During that time, he even seriously prepared a notebook, with three big words on the cover.
"Wealth Creation Plan."
Opening the first page, Lu Yibei confidently prepared to write a hit song from Earth.
Five minutes later, he was chewing on the pen.
Ten minutes later, he was scratching his head.
Half an hour later, the paper had three lines of unrelated words, strung together like some undeciphered ancient curse.
Unconvinced, Lu Yibei tried writing a movie.
He was familiar with this.
He forgot the main characters' names, only remembering they went through a lot, and the ending was touching. As for what they went through and why it was touching, he pondered all night, only recalling that making movies seemed expensive.
Writing a novel was even more hopeless.
When reading, he could skim ten lines at a glance, not missing a single thrill; but when it came to writing, aside from "terrifying as this" and "this child must not be spared," his mind was a peaceful blank.
More cruelly, Blue Star and Earth were highly similar, not just in industries but in many cultural works as well.
When he finally remembered a complete story, a quick search online showed it already existed here.
Try another, same result.
Try yet another, different name, similar plot.
Of course, there were works unique to Earth that Blue Star didn't have.
The problem was, he couldn't remember them.
Others crossed worlds with a cultural treasure trove in their minds, pulling out timeless classics at will.
Lu Yibei crossed over with a warehouse in his head.
The door was open, the lights were on, but the manager was gone.
He nearly exploded his brain trying, but couldn't dig out anything useful. In the end, he closed the notebook, admitting he wasn't cut out for this.
A pig brain shouldn't trouble a pig brain.
Forcing plagiarism would likely result not in wealth, but in both worlds witnessing the limits of his cultural level.
So he gave up.
No system, no plagiarist career.
Life had restarted once; he couldn't just idle because he didn't draw a god-tier talent. Ordinary life was still life, and a college student's youth was still youth.
At least this time, he was still young.
The words on the textbook fluttered in the breeze. Lu Yibei propped his chin on his hand, listening as the teacher on the podium covered the last point before class ended.
Around him, people began packing up.
A student sitting by the aisle slipped their pen into their bag, moving quietly, but the zipper was already half open. Someone in the front row discreetly put on an earphone, their phone screen showing a photo of the cafeteria window.
This was the unique battle-ready state of a university classroom's last five minutes.
The bell hadn't rung, but their souls were already in the cafeteria.
Finally, the bell rang from the hallway.
The teacher had just said, "That's all for today," when the sound of chairs moving filled the classroom. Lu Yibei closed his textbook and glanced at his phone.
There were three new messages in the dorm group chat.
Zhao Luyuan: "Awake yet?"
Zhou Shuhang: "If he's not awake, he should've been marked absent by now."
Chen Jiashu: "Second Cafeteria has sweet and sour ribs today."
The last message was sent a minute ago.
Zhao Luyuan: "Brothers, grab your stuff, time to eat."
Just as he pocketed his phone, a loud voice called from outside the classroom.
"Lu Yibei!"
No need to look, it was Zhao Luyuan.
Then Chen Jiashu's voice drifted in.
"Hurry up."
Zhou Shuhang's voice came last, still in that calm tone.
"To be precise, if you don't hurry, Chen Jiashu will finish all the ribs."
"That's slander!"
"Swallow the bun in your mouth before you speak."
The hallway fell silent for two seconds.
Zhao Luyuan laughed like he was about to run out of breath.
Lu Yibei slung his backpack over his shoulder and followed the crowd out.