Restarting your life starts with filling out your college application.

Chen Zhiyuan was completely unaware of all of this.

He stayed home and wrote for several days, accumulating a thick stack of manuscript paper that, when counted, exceeded 30,000 words.

The amount seems about right; it's time to throw it out and test the water temperature.

He carefully sorted and checked the manuscript paper, then put it into a thick kraft paper envelope.

I went outside and went to the nearby post office.

He was focused as he filled out the registered mail form at the counter—the recipient address was the editorial department of the Jiangnan Daily, and he had already found out the email address for submissions.

As Chen Zhiyuan dropped the heavy envelope into the dark green mailbox and heard the soft "thump," he felt a sense of relief, as if he had accomplished something important that had been brewing for a long time.

He had considered the possibility of rejection, but he was more confident.

Given the sensation this work caused in later generations, there was no reason for any newspaper editor to refuse it, unless they were blind.

It was past 10 a.m. when I came out of the post office.

The summer sun became scorching, and waves of heat lingered in the air.

But Chen Zhiyuan was in a good mood. With his hands in his pockets and humming an off-key tune, he walked home slowly along the lush shade of the trees lining the street.

As he approached the entrance of the residential area, he paused slightly, his gaze briefly meeting that of a figure not far away.

It's Zhao Sisi.

But it only paused for a moment, less than a fraction of a second.

His expression remained unchanged, his gaze sweeping over the scene calmly, as if he were looking at an insignificant neighbor.

Without stopping, he walked straight into the residential area.

Zhao Sisi also saw him.

In the instant their eyes met, a small, inexplicable joy swept through her heart, like a pebble thrown into a calm lake, creating delicate ripples.

She herself hadn't thought about it in detail, but why her first reaction to seeing him again after so many days was "surprise".

only……

Before this fleeting joy could spread, it was instantly frozen and shattered by the cold reality that followed.

He saw her, but he actually... just walked right past her?

There was no pause, no greeting, not even a glance.

Zhao Sisi stood there, her eyes suddenly reddening. A huge wave of grievance surged into her heart, quickly overwhelming the little joy she had just felt.

Instantly, Zhao Sisi's eyes reddened, tears quickly welling up and trembling at the edges, as if they were about to burst forth. A mixture of shame, indignation, grievance, and disbelief gripped her heart like an invisible hand.

She almost lost control, screaming at the receding figure:

"Chen Zhiyuan!"

Her voice was clearly choked with sobs and contained a sharpness that she herself was unaware of.

Chen Zhiyuan, with his hands in his pockets, stopped and turned around.

The afternoon sun slanted down on him, and his newly cut, short hair cast a faint shadow on his forehead.

His expression was indifferent, his eyes calm and unwavering, even carrying a sense of detachment as if it were none of his business.

He glanced at Zhao Sisi, whose eyes were brimming with tears, a few steps away, and asked only two words:

"What's up?"

It wasn't "What's wrong?" or "Why are you crying?", but simply, coldly, and with a clear sense of distance, "Something's wrong."

These two words were like icicles, instantly piercing through Zhao Sisi's last shred of defense.

She could no longer bear this complete indifference, and the tears she had been holding back finally burst forth.

"Wow--"

She suddenly burst into tears, like a child who had suffered a great injustice.

She immediately covered her face with her hands, as if she didn't want anyone, especially the person in front of her, to see her current disheveled state.

She stopped speaking and couldn't utter a word. She simply turned around, sobbing uncontrollably, and stumbled towards her home, her thin shoulders heaving helplessly as she ran.

Chen Zhiyuan stood there, quietly watching the sobbing figure run away until she disappeared around the corner of the apartment building.

His face was expressionless, and his heart was as calm as a deep pool, without the slightest ripple, let alone any psychological burden.

In her previous life, Zhao Sisi's "tea art" was so refined that she managed to turn him, a "simp," into a "pervert." He devoted countless efforts and time, only to end up with nothing.

This is nothing! All I did was stop revolving around her and be a little colder towards her. Is that all she can't handle?

He shook his head slightly, a faint, almost self-deprecating smile curving his lips, before completely forgetting about the little incident.

Unaffected by the situation, he remained as relaxed as ever, hands in his pockets, humming his off-key tune again, and strolled home with light steps.

Well, the first draft of 30,000 words has been sent out. I estimate that we'll hear from the Jiangnan Daily in a few days.

How should we discuss the payment? Should it be calculated per thousand words, or settled after serialization? These "practical" questions began to take shape in my mind.

He returned to his quiet room and sat down at his desk again.

Cicadas chirped outside the window, while the only sound inside was the rhythmic whirring of the fan.

He spread out a new sheet of graph paper, picked up the fountain pen he was already familiar with, took a deep breath, and quickly immersed himself in the world of pen tip and paper, his expression focused and serious.

Let's talk about Zhao Sisi.

She seemed to have suffered a tremendous injustice, sobbing as she rushed into her house, not even bothering to change her shoes. She went straight into her room, slammed the door shut, collapsed onto the bed, buried her face in the pillow, and burst into tears.

Zhao Guoqiang and Wang Xiujuan, who were watching TV and chatting in the living room, were startled by the commotion and looked at each other, completely bewildered.

After a few seconds of stunned silence, Wang Xiujuan quickly got up, walked to her daughter's bedroom door, and gently knocked. Her voice was full of worry and heartache: "Sisi, Sisi, what's wrong? Open the door and tell Mom."

Only suppressed sobs could be heard from inside, growing louder and louder.

This greatly alarmed Wang Xiujuan, and her voice rose several decibels, filled with urgency: "Sisi! What happened? Don't scare your mother, open the door quickly!"

After a long while, Zhao Sisi's broken, nasal sobs came from inside the door: "Waaah... Chen... Chen Zhiyuan... he bullied me!"

What!

Wang Xiujuan was startled.

Zhao Guoqiang, standing nearby, jumped up from the sofa, his face instantly showing tension and anger, as if his carefully nurtured cabbage had been eaten by a pig. He subconsciously clenched his fists.

"That brat Chen Zhiyuan, what did he do to you! Tell Dad right now, I'm going to settle the score with him!"

.......

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