Chapter Six: Setting the Plan

After lunch, since both she and Lin Hui had to attend school in the afternoon, Lin’s mother hurried them upstairs for their midday nap. Now, Lin Xia sat on the wooden chair at her desk. Against the wall were her textbooks and extracurricular readings, while before her was a stack of pristine scratch paper. At the very top, in bold letters, she had written “Plan.”

Supporting her face with her left hand, pen in her right, she jotted down a few items, tapped her chin with the pen cap, pondered, and then scribbled a few more points. Repeating this cycle, she managed to outline her plan.

First, their family was poor—improve their financial situation. This was most important and had to be the first item.

Second, her grades were bad. She’d failed the high school entrance exam, and her parents had spent money to secure her a place at No. 1 High. This time, she must get in on her own merit. Also crucial—second point.

Third, reform her little brother, so he wouldn’t keep picking fights with her as he grew older, stripping her of any authority.

Fourth, monitor her brother’s studies. In her previous life, he’d neglected his studies, repeated several grades. By the time he graduated college, he was already old. Then he married, and he and his wife quarreled constantly, making their home unbearable. This time, she would keep an eye on his academics, strive to ensure he never had to repeat a grade, and let his education progress smoothly.

At this point, she felt something brushing against her feet. She looked down to find Ah Mao, asleep at her feet.

Lin Xia thought for a moment and added another item:

Fifth, look after Ah Mao, don’t let it get killed by a car.

In her previous life, when Ah Mao was just learning to walk, it went out to play and was accidentally struck by a motorcycle near the roadside. She and Lin Hui were heartbroken, eventually burying it in the backyard.

This time, she was determined to protect it.

Lin Xia glanced at the clock on her desk—it was nearly one o’clock. She ought to rest, or she’d be drowsy in the afternoon. Satisfied with her list, she smiled contentedly, scratched Ah Mao at her feet, moved it to its own bed, washed her hands, then lay on the bed, breathing in the familiar scent of her bedding, and fell asleep with peace of mind.

Afternoon brought classes as usual, though the subjects changed to mathematics and biology. Looking at the simple equations in her first-year math book, and the basic diagrams in biology, Lin Xia let out a quiet sigh and sprawled across her desk. Everything was so easy—she could barely keep herself awake.

Muttering to herself, she lay there only five minutes before drifting into sleep…

“Lin Xia, the teacher’s calling you, Lin Xia…” Her deskmate, Yang Yanjun, nudged her softly.

Lin Xia hated being awakened from sleep, frowned as she opened her eyes, and asked irritably, “What is it?”

Yang Yanjun didn’t answer, just gestured with her mouth toward the podium.

Lin Xia looked over—the math teacher was staring at her intently. Feeling guilty, Lin Xia stood up. If she wasn’t mistaken, the light in the teacher’s eyes was… fury.

For a moment, she thought she was in a university lecture, forgetting that middle and high school teachers were much more attentive.

“Excellent. School has only just begun, and already someone dares to sleep openly in my class. It seems Lin Xia knows math so well she needn’t listen to the lesson.” Teacher Yang, with years of experience, had never encountered such disrespect from a student, and his temper was not the best. He was ablaze with anger. “Come up here and solve this problem, then explain it to the class.”

Lin Xia hung her head and walked to the podium. She glanced at the problem and the notes beside it. The teacher was covering linear equations. The problem posed was exceedingly simple for her—she solved it quickly and, after explaining the method to the class, stood next to the podium with her head bowed.

Teacher Yang’s mood improved considerably, since she’d solved the problem. Despite not paying attention in class, she showed some cleverness. Children of this age who are a bit clever often do things out of the ordinary to display their uniqueness.

He softened his tone, “Though you solved the problem, you cannot sleep in class. It violates classroom discipline. Don’t let it happen again.”

Lin Xia had no idea this lesson had caused Teacher Yang to categorize her as one of the “clever kids.” She considered herself far from clever, but with her years in society, she recognized that although his words were critical, his tone held no real reproach.

She understood immediately, and replied with genuine remorse, “Sorry, Teacher. I won’t do it again. I was reviewing the text at lunchtime and lost track of time, so I didn’t nap.”

Teacher Yang was even more pleased to hear this—clever and diligent. He simply advised her that midday rest was important, not to neglect it, then sent her back to her seat.

Back at her desk, a note was passed to her from behind—written by Ren Jie: “You’re getting slick, even claiming to be reviewing.”

Lin Xia glanced at the teacher, busy writing, and quickly scribbled back, “I really was reviewing at noon.”

As she looked at Teacher Yang’s back, she felt a wave of disappointment.

Others who are reborn always become prodigies, or have some stroke of fortune—meeting mysterious masters, learning martial arts or cultivation, or becoming tycoons in business or politics.

But here she was—still having to study, still being scolded by teachers. The disparity was just too much.

Reality, though, meant that no matter how much she grumbled, she still had to behave, attend class, or else she’d face her mother’s infamous stir-fried pork with bamboo paddle.

At last, school ended. The four “black flowers” gathered together and set off for home.

Li Jing asked, “Lin Xia, did you really review at noon?”

“Yes. My mom told me to study hard, not to embarrass her. The guy across from me already got into Wuhan University. His family threw a party over the summer, the lion dance lasted forever, the whole street knew. My mom threatened that if I scored too poorly, she’d stuff me back in her womb for a remake.”

Her friends, just starting middle school and unaware of the true stakes of high school or college entrance exams, burst out laughing, “Your mom really says the funniest things.”

Lin Xia felt a bit exasperated. Her mother would never actually say such words; she’d merely rephrased her intent.

But she sighed inwardly: Youth is so wonderful—no worries at all. Life is simply homework, reciting, exams. Unlike herself, burdened by work pressure, mortgage, the need to marry as she grows older, all weighing on her shoulders.

The four walked in a row, nearly taking up half the street, chatting exuberantly about everything—celebrities, family troubles, and more.

Warm sunlight bathed their faces—not beautiful, but youthful and fresh—casting a radiant glow.

Lin Xia listened to their banter: “I’ll strangle you,” “Don’t, Lin Xia, help!” “No way, serves you right for being mean,” and her heart softened.

When you enter this world with a calm spirit, you discover a whole new world.

With hope in your heart.