The sky was a blinding blue, and the scorching sun poured down onto the sports field like molten gold, merciless and relentless. The plastic track steamed with twisted heatwaves, and the air was so thick it felt as if you could wring water out of it.
Shi Hanfeng felt like his school uniform shirt had just been fished out of a river—soaked and heavy, clinging tightly to his back. Every tiny movement tugged at the sodden fabric, bringing another wave of sticky discomfort.
Beads of sweat crowded eagerly onto his forehead, merging into little streams that traced down his temples, slid across his cheeks, and finally gathered into a heavy droplet at the tip of his chin. With a “plop,” it splattered onto the scorching track at his feet and was greedily swallowed up in an instant.
“Punch! Pull back your elbow! Rotate your hips! Hold your stance steady!”
P.E. teacher Lao Zhou’s voice boomed with as much power as the shine of his bald head.
With his hands clasped behind his back, he paced in front of the ranks, his gaze sharp as an owl pulling an all-nighter, sweeping over every student struggling in the blazing heat.
“Spirit! Where’s your fighting spirit? You’re already wilting from a little sun? Think of the future you’re carrying on your shoulders!”
The future?
Shi Hanfeng rolled his eyes inwardly, feeling like both his legs were filled with boiling lead—heavy, sore, and trembling uncontrollably at the knees.
“All right, that’s the end of training. Anyone who wants extra practice, come see me!”
At Lao Zhou’s words, everyone dashed away faster than rabbits, terrified of being caught by this devilish teacher. Their earlier exhaustion had vanished without a trace.
“I swear, Lao Zhou must have ‘dedication’ carved into his DNA.” Shi Hanfeng couldn’t help but grumble, feeling sweat racing down his back, breaking through the T-shirt blockade and winding along his spine in an unbearably itchy stream.
He had just finished a round of Sanda, and every muscle in his body was protesting with aching weakness.
“In this kind of weather that could roast a person into jerky, we’re still doing outdoor training? If only Lao Zhou could give a little of his work ethic to the weather forecasters!”
He tugged at his soaked sleeve, the athletic jacket sticking to his skin as if it had just been dredged from water.
“Give it a rest!”
A familiar voice teased him from nearby, tinged with a little schadenfreude.
“Not dedicated? If you’re not dedicated, you end up in the Juzi for tea, bro! Did you forget about Wang laoshi from the class next door, the so-called ‘Romantic Sage’? Just because he wanted to hit on the new trainee teacher, he let students have free activity for several classes.”
“What happened? Three Student Physical and Mental Health Supervisors in black suits took him out for tea! Tsk tsk, I heard his self-reflection essay was thirty thousand words, full of tears and remorse. Only then did he barely keep his job.”
The speaker was Shi Hanfeng’s best friend, Xu Chaoyun.
This guy was just as sweaty, but still full of energy, grinning wide enough to show off a mouthful of white teeth. Shi Hanfeng’s lips twitched—whoever says P.E. teachers have the easiest job, he’s ready to fight them.
“Here, have something cold, cool yourself down.” Xu Chaoyun’s voice interrupted Shi Hanfeng’s internal complaints.
Like a magician, he pulled a still-frosty bottle of mineral water from his roomy athletic pants pocket. Droplets of condensation ran swiftly down its sides, practically radiating icy temptation.
“Here, for you!”
Xu Chaoyun gave a quick flick of his wrist and tossed the bottle over with pinpoint accuracy.
Shi Hanfeng caught it easily. The chill shocked his hand, making him shiver.
“Whoa, ice-cold! Where’d you get this?”
It was like an oasis in a desert, ice cream beside a lava pit!
“Heh, you have to ask? It’s me, after all!” Xu Chaoyun waggled his eyebrows smugly. “From Lao Zhou’s little fridge. Swiped two bottles. Hurry, drink up before it gets warm.”
Shi Hanfeng wasted no time—he twisted off the cap and took a long swig.
The icy liquid barreled from his throat straight to his stomach like a mini glacier, and everywhere it passed, his overheated blood seemed to cool with a sizzling “sshh” sound.
It was like diving headfirst into the Antarctic sea in the height of summer—bone-chilling, soul-refreshing!
He felt as though even his spirit was jolted awake by that icy blast.
“Whew—alive again!”
Shi Hanfeng let out a long sigh, feeling all his near-dead cells revive at once. “Thanks, Yunzi! Tomorrow, Dad’s treating you to Crazy Thursday, 50V for you!”
“Really? Yifu!”
Xu Chaoyun’s eyes lit up instantly like searchlights. He clasped his hands in prayer, his expression devout enough to be a statue in a temple.
“Would I lie to you?”
Shi Hanfeng rolled his eyes, tossing the empty bottle into the distant trash can with perfect aim. “When has Dad ever shortchanged his son?”
Xu Chaoyun grinned foolishly, already lost in dreams of “Crazy Thursday.”
Of course, he didn’t sense that faint, subtle sense of dislocation in Shi Hanfeng’s complaints.
To them, it was common sense for a P.E. teacher to get taken away for not being dedicated, but to Shi Hanfeng, it always felt absurd in an unspeakable way.
It was as ridiculous as being hauled off for playing LOL too badly at an internet cafe—free activity in P.E. and playing games badly are personal matters at worst, how did they become collective issues?
Officer, is being bad at games a crime now?
That’s right—Shi Hanfeng was a transmigrator.
He looked down at his sun-reddened wrist. His fingers, well-exercised, were long and healthy.
Eighteen years. This body had grown from a wrinkled baby to a teenager over 1.8 meters tall, yet sometimes he still felt as if these hands didn’t belong to him.
Like now, the lingering coolness in his palm always brought back memories of that explosive night.
Back then, he was wearing headphones, four “Poison Milk Powder” game windows open at once, all his characters crowding at the door of Selia Inn to claim welfare. Paishifu Memory Cleaner was running in the background, the “open door” jingle playing, and Star Rail was auto-farming relics—he was a happy mouse on the Mystery Dam.
Just as he finally looted that legendary, priceless Haiyang zhi lei from Miaoge, his computer rebelled and took him down with it.
When he opened his eyes again, he was a baby in this world.
A baby who started with the “Orphan” identity right from the beginning.
Looking back, maybe that five-year-old computer had finally had enough.
“Come on, Computer Bro, was that really necessary? I only opened a few extra windows and grabbed a gem…” Shi Hanfeng stared at the blinding sun above the sports field, silently complaining in his heart.
The aunties at the orphanage always said his eyes didn’t look like a child’s, more like an old man burdened with secrets.
But what secrets?
He was just repeatedly baffled as his worldview got battered.
Even after nearly eighteen years in this world, Shi Hanfeng still couldn’t quite accept its bizarre logic.
Relying on the little bit of social experience from his past life, he’d keenly sensed since childhood that something was “off” here.
The tech tree was extremely skewed. Materials science had soared ahead, but core technology was still stuck in a rut.
Phones?
Sure, but the screen and performance were only on par with the cheap knock-offs of his past life. The cases, though, were absurdly light and strong, supposedly made from some kind of experimental Biological Synthetic Material.
Energy?
Fossil Fuel was still the main source, but Solar Panel efficiency was shockingly high—too bad the cost was even scarier, so they weren’t widely used.
It was as if materials science and basic engineering were on totally different tracks—one was riding a rocket, the other was still pedaling a tricycle.
Even more outrageous was this world’s protection and ideological education for minors—it was downright “insane.”
Ethics and Morality Class stood shoulder to shoulder with math, science, and literature. Can you believe it?
Even more extreme, he’d personally witnessed, near the orphanage, a young couple arguing at the foot of their building—voices raised a little too loud, which frightened their three-year-old daughter into bawling.
Less than five minutes later, three unmarked black SUVs descended from the sky like divine soldiers. Doors flew open, and eight burly men in fitted black uniforms and sunglasses leapt out!
They worked fast and in perfect sync: two soothed the frightened child, while the others “invited” the dumbfounded couple into the car.
Later, he heard the couple underwent a whole week of “Family Harmony and Minor Psychological Health Protection” mandatory training, and only after signing a stack of pledges were they allowed to return.
Thanks to this over-the-top Protection Law for Minors, Shi Hanfeng, the “orphan” with a disastrous start, had days in the welfare institute that, though materially poor, were never lacking in safety or education.
***
“Hey! What are you spacing out for?”
Xu Chaoyun jabbed him with an elbow, snapping him out of his thoughts. This guy had just chugged a mouthful of water and was squinting, scanning the field like a radar.
“Hot as it is, the weather does have its perks,” Xu Chaoyun smacked his lips, adopting the tone of a seasoned connoisseur, “Check it out—sweat-soaked gym clothes, youth sparkling under the sun! What a view!”
Shi Hanfeng followed his gaze. It was true—the heat couldn’t suppress the hormones of youth.
As P.E. drew to a close and free activity began, a few girls in cool sports shorts and T-shirts gathered under the shade at the track’s edge, chatting and laughing together.
Sunlight filtered through the dense leaves, dappling their youthful skin, outlining silhouettes bursting with vitality.
“Yeah, you’re right.” Shi Hanfeng nodded, for once agreeing with him.
Setting aside all the doubts and sense of dislocation buried in his heart, this vibrant scene did lift his mood.
Sunshine, sweat, noise, and the uninhibited energy of boys and girls—this was the purest beauty of youth.
“By the way,” Xu Chaoyun suddenly turned serious, “Fengzi, how many years have we known each other?”
Shi Hanfeng was taken aback.
What’s with this sudden nostalgia?
He instinctively counted on his fingers, rummaging through faded memories: “Kindergarten… lower class… middle class… upper class… six years of elementary… three years of middle school… three years of high school… uh…”
He sucked in a breath of hot air.
“Fourteen? Fifteen? I’ve lost track. We’ve been hanging out since we wore split-crotch pants. Why the sudden question? The sun getting to you?”
He eyed Xu Chaoyun suspiciously.
“Suddenly got a conscience and want to celebrate our friendiversary?”
“Screw you!”
Xu Chaoyun laughed, downed the last mouthful of icy water, crushed the bottle, and tossed it into the trash can.
He smacked his lips and gazed toward the giant, slowly rotating signal antenna atop the distant school building. “No reason, just a random thought. Yesterday, Old Six just celebrated his eighteenth birthday, right? He was the last in our class. Now, we’re all adults—legally, anyway.”
He paused, his voice a little lower: “I was thinking—since kindergarten, we’ve always been in the same class, never even split up for re-grouping. But after we get to university, what are the chances we’ll end up in the same class again? Or the same dorm?”
Shi Hanfeng plopped down on the sunbaked edge of a nearby flowerbed, feeling the heat rising beneath him. “Who can say? Universities are scattered all over, and our majors are different. Fate is a weird thing.”
He shrugged, eyes drifting back to the energetic figures on the field, admiring this beautiful scene made of sweat, sunshine, and youth.
“Yeah, you’re right.” Xu Chaoyun sat down too, copying him as he gazed into the distance. “But if we really get split up, it’ll feel weird… Hey, hey, hey! Look over there! That new transfer in Class Three…”
Shi Hanfeng tuned out his buddy’s never-ending “new student beauty analysis,” and his thoughts drifted again.
Eighteen years old—in this world where minors were so well protected, what did adulthood even mean?
The bell for the last period rang like music from heaven, rescuing the tired students from their afternoon stupor.
Just as everyone cheered and prepared to dash for their bags, homeroom teacher Lao Wang pushed open the door and knocked on the lectern.
“Quiet! Important announcement!”
The classroom fell silent at once, dozens of eyes turning to the front.
“Tomorrow,” Lao Wang coughed and cleared his throat, “our class will be going to the Qimingxing Comprehensive Health Examination Center in the city center for a full health check.
This is a major school-wide event that affects your advancement files!
Everyone must gather at the school gate by 7:30 a.m. sharp. We’ll go together by bus!
Do not be late!
You bear the consequences if you are! Understood?”
“Huh? A checkup?”
“Tomorrow? So sudden!”
“Didn’t we just have one last semester?”
A quiet wave of murmurs rose from below.
Lao Wang pushed up his glasses, the lenses catching the cold light of the fluorescent lamps. “Quiet! I repeat, no lateness, no skipping. Attendance is mandatory. Understand?”
“We—un—der—stand—” the students droned back, feebly drawing out the syllables.
A checkup?
Don’t we do that every year?
The location was different, but it didn’t seem like a big deal.
As Lao Wang waved his hand, the students burst from the classroom like birds from a cage.
Shi Hanfeng and Xu Chaoyun followed the crowd out of the school gate, running into some familiar faces from other classes along the way.
“Hey, your class is doing the checkup tomorrow too?”
A friend from a neighboring class asked casually.
“Too?”
Shi Hanfeng paused, catching the key word. “When did your class go?”
“This afternoon! Just finished and I’m exhausted.” The other stretched. “That Qimingxing Center’s equipment is pretty new, though.”
“Class Three went last week, I think?”
Another chimed in. “I heard from their class.”
One class at a time?
Not like previous years, when it was by grade or all at once?
“Why bother with all this?”
Xu Chaoyun wondered. “Wouldn’t it be easier to just take everyone at once? Save time and effort.”
“Who knows? School’s decision,” their classmate shrugged. “Let’s go, let’s go—time to team up online!”
Xu Chaoyun quickly moved on, excitedly debating dinner plans, but Shi Hanfeng’s pace slowed.
He frowned, his gaze suddenly sharp.
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