The area around the university was never short of small eateries. Wen Xue vaguely recalled a few shops she frequented during her freshman year and led He Yan in that direction. She had left in a hurry without a hat or scarf, yet the down jacket didn’t look bulky on her. Over the past six months, though she hadn’t stepped on a scale, anyone could see she had lost significant weight.
He Yan occasionally glanced at her and couldn’t help sighing inwardly.
The death of his dependent younger brother had hit him hard too. During that period, he smoked heavily and was unusually irritable, haunted by memories of his brother every time he closed his eyes. But unlike Wen Xue, he still had work—dozens of people relied on him for their livelihoods. The pain of losing a loved one never fully heals, but one must learn to move forward. After a month of feeling down, he forced himself to rally, and before he knew it, he seemed to have moved on.
He had to admit that during those eight years in his previous life, he rarely thought of Wen Xue.
First, they had no mutual friends or life intersections.
Second, he was too busy, and he assumed someone with her advantages would lead a comfortable life.
She was beautiful, educated—as long as she progressed steadily, her future should have been smooth sailing.
At that charity gala, she was surrounded by people, her face devoid of joy or sorrow.
Only when she saw him did surprise and shock flicker across her features. She forced a smile, tears glistening in her eyes: “Brother, if there’s anything I can help with, just say the word. I’m doing alright… I have some money too…By secular standards, she was undoubtedly successful—living in luxury, surrounded by wealth and privilege.
Yet the information he uncovered revealed that those eight years were filled with turmoil and hardship for her. Her peaceful life had been easily overturned, every page of her story marked by powerlessness.
The last message he sent before rebirth was to her.
But he never received her reply before he was reborn.
As they approached the food street, Wen Xue mustered her courage and asked softly, “What would you like to eat?”
She spoke slowly: “There’s hot pot, barbecue, stir-fried dishes…”
He Yan noticed her hair tousled by the wind. He glanced around briefly before responding to her question with a quiet, “Wait here a moment.”
He strode toward a nearby stall. The cold weather meant fewer vendors were out.
A young woman huddled over a bowl of rice noodles while clutching a hot water bottle suddenly found herself in shadow. Looking up to see a customer, she hurriedly swallowed the scalding noodles and mumbled, “Boss, buying a scarf or gloves? I have all styles here!”
He Yan didn’t care about styles. His eyes quickly scanned the items before pointing at a fluffy scarf. “This one,” then at a pair of gloves, “and these. Wrap them up.”
He didn’t haggle. Delighted, the vendor chirped “Okay!” and scrambled up. She swiftly found the selected items from a black plastic bag and handed them over. “Original price sixty-five, just fifty for you. Wishing you prosperity.”
Wen Xue waited obediently in place, not moving an inch.
When He Yan returned, he handed her the packaging printed with little rabbits. “Don’t catch cold.”
He watched her, so thin she seemed ready to be blown away by the wind.Wen Xue looked slightly dazed. Without giving her a chance to refuse, he handed it over, so she had no choice but to accept it. Lowering her head, she saw it contained a scarf and gloves. “I have these,” she said.
She had just forgotten to wear them, left back in her dorm room.
She knew her condition wasn’t right—her mind felt foggy and heavy, devoid of motivation for anything. Every night before bed, she would think, Tomorrow I’ll pull myself together, study hard, eat properly, make friends, and go out. But when the sun rose and she climbed out of bed, all she felt was exhaustion.
Her hair had grown longer, her body felt lighter, and her reactions had slowed.
She couldn’t control it.
“Wear them,” he said.
“…Oh.”
Wen Xue bowed her neck, wrapping the scarf around herself before remembering to thank him. “Thank you.”
He Yan answered her earlier question. “Let’s have hot pot. It’ll warm you up.”
“Alright.” Wen Xue slipped her hands into her pockets, feeling her wallet and relaxing slightly. If she remembered correctly, there should be a few hundred inside—enough for a hot pot meal.
Though they walked side by side, the distance between them could easily fit two more people. As they drew closer to the snack street, the atmosphere grew livelier, the air thick with the aroma of food. Wen Xue belatedly realized she was hungry.
The hot pot restaurant was bustling. He Yan lifted the transparent vinyl strip at the entrance, tilting his head to signal for Wen Xue to enter first.
She bent slightly and stepped inside. The main hall was nearly full, with only a corner table freshly cleared. Steam filled the air, much warmer than outside. This restaurant offered individual pots, and instead of ordering from a server, customers picked their ingredients directly from the refrigerated display.
Before He Yan could move, Wen Xue stood up, making trip after trip to select dishes. Soon, the table was almost covered.
She was attentive—always had been good at considering others’ feelings. Now, with the steam from the boiling pot wafting over her, a faint blush touched her pale, almost sickly complexion, lending her a bit of vitality. She unwrapped the utensils, picked up the kettle to rinse the bowls and chopsticks, her exposed wrist so slender it looked breakable.
“I heard your winter break is coming up?” He Yan took a sip of hot water and asked.
“Mm.”
“Planning to return to Haicheng?”
Haicheng was a second or third-tier city with a less developed local economy. But thirty or forty years ago, it had experienced a period of prosperity, with large-scale factories and enterprises where many locals worked, supporting their families.
Among them were He Yan’s parents and Wen Xue’s parents. However, over a decade ago, a sudden accident shattered many families, leaving them orphaned overnight.
Wen Xue was luckier than the He Yan and He Heng brothers—she had her grandparents to raise her. Even though they passed away one after the other over the following decade, she never had to experience the feeling of depending on others.
He Yan’s most vivid memories were from his childhood and teenage years, shuttling between one relative’s home and another. Back then, he and his brother never dared to ask the adults for money, even when they needed it. Gritting his teeth, He Yan found ways to earn pocket money for his younger brother when he was just ten years old. Burdened with too much hardship and pressure, his academic performance was mediocre, and he didn’t do well on the college entrance exam. Calculating the tuition fees, he found it pointless and plunged directly into society, single-mindedly focused on earning money to support his brother properly.
He Heng was diligent—his studies never gave anyone cause for concern, always ranking at the top. Just as life seemed to be improving, He Heng died.
Wen Xue blanched some greens, chewing slowly and deliberately. After swallowing, she lifted her eyes and replied, “Probably.”
It seemed she hadn’t even bought her train ticket yet.He Yan nodded. “Do you have enough money for school expenses?”
“Yes,” Wen Xue replied. “The school cafeteria meals aren’t expensive.”
Just by looking at her, He Yan could tell what kind of life she had been living these past six months. If He Heng hadn’t passed away, this couple would have been fine—enjoying university life together, finding nine-to-five jobs after graduation, and perhaps starting a small family within a few years.
She was too young—it was normal for her to struggle with accepting such a sudden collapse of her world.
“Xiao Heng probably mentioned me to you before,” He Yan said, noticing she only ate vegetables. Unable to bear watching, he picked up a clean pair of chopsticks, fished some meat from the hot pot, and placed it in her bowl. “I run a small transport company with a partner. One of our clerical staff went on maternity leave and won’t return until after the New Year. The work isn’t heavy or difficult, but now one person is handling two people’s tasks. Since it’s near the year-end, I don’t want to hire someone new. If you’re willing, you can come work with me. I’ll provide food and accommodation, and when the new semester starts, I’ll take you back to school and cover your tuition and living expenses.”
He had been reborn just yesterday and spent the whole day thinking about what he could do for her.
If he hadn’t been reborn, he would have done everything in his power—even spending all his wealth—to rescue her from that person’s clutches if she was willing. But now that he was reborn, what should he do? He could only prevent anyone from bullying her again, allowing her to live an ordinary yet peaceful life like her classmates. Just as he had supported He Heng in the past, he would now support her.
Wen Xue looked at him in surprise.
She tried to understand what he meant, but the more she listened, the more confused she became. The first part was clear—he wanted to offer her a part-time job. But what did he mean by covering her tuition and living expenses? From what she knew, university students earned very low hourly wages from part-time jobs. What he was offering was too much.
“Why?” she asked, realizing he was offering her charity. She quickly added, “I have money for tuition and living expenses. Before she passed, my grandmother left me her savings passbook. It should last until I graduate. After graduation, I can find a job.”
The pre-reborn He Yan had thought the same way.
Back then, he had asked if she had enough money, and she said yes—her grandparents had left her the compensation money from the factory, which had been set aside for her. Though the value had depreciated over more than a decade, with careful budgeting, it could cover her four years of expenses.
“Wen Xue.”
He Yan rarely called her by her full name. He set down his chopsticks, his eyes filled with a complex pity he himself wasn’t aware of. “You used to call me ‘brother’ like Xiao Heng did. Even though he’s gone, you can still think of me as your brother. Do it for his peace of mind. Whether you’re helping me or I’m helping you—it doesn’t matter. There’s no rush. Go back to your dorm and think it over carefully. Once you’ve decided, I’ll pick you up and take you to my place.”
Wen Xue stared at him for a long moment before lowering her head to continue eating, though much more slowly this time. As she pondered, her gaze inadvertently fell upon the scarf and gloves she had placed on the chair beside her—fluffy and warm.
She had long been familiar with the name “He Yan.”
He Heng often talked about his older brother—sometimes complaining about his sternness, other times expressing concern over how hard he worked to earn money. Back then, she had formed a mental image of him: hardworking, enduring hardships, and taciturn. But after actually meeting He Yan, she erased that image like rubbing out a sketch with an eraser.
It was hard to describe him in precise terms.
If He Heng was like a lush, vibrant tree, then He Yan was tempered steel, forged through countless trials.He Yan was a very, very good older brother.
She still remembered the night before He Heng’s cremation. The funeral parlor was cold and silent, bathed in moonlight that spread like a layer of frost. Her eyes ached from the incense smoke as she numbly dragged her feet outside. From a short distance away, she saw him leaning against a pillar, as if his spine had been broken, silently weeping.
Yet in front of others, he would still muster his energy, receiving one mourner after another.
…
Unlike the lively atmosphere at other tables, after they finished speaking, neither of them said another word, focusing on their hotpot meal. Over the past six months, Wen Xue had eaten little and irregularly. After having some vegetables and meat, she was full and began staring blankly into space.
He Yan, now twenty-five, had a naturally large appetite. Having only hastily eaten lunch, he was already ravenous.
Seeing that he had almost finished eating, Wen Xue picked up the menu the server had left on the side, preparing to go to the front desk to settle the bill. Suddenly, a hand with a faint scar on its back pressed firmly down on the menu. She looked up at him, and he said, “I’ll take care of it.”
Ten minutes later, after He Yan paid the bill, he checked the cash in his wallet—only a few notes remained.
He had left in a hurry and didn’t know if there was an ATM nearby. Even if she didn’t want to go with him, he needed to leave his contact information and withdraw some money for her to use during the New Year.
Wen Xue followed him out of the restaurant and hesitantly asked, “Are you really short-handed there?”
She didn’t want tuition or living expenses, but if he was short-handed, she could go and help out.
He Yan turned back at the sound of her voice. “We are indeed short-handed.”
This was true. In half a month, it would be the New Year. In his previous life, he had asked a friend’s sister-in-law to cover a few shifts around this time.
Wen Xue lowered her gaze, still holding the scarf and gloves he had bought for her. In the darkness of the night, she nodded softly. “Alright, I’ll go.”