Reborn as a high school freshman with an awakened system, a fat boy transforms into a male god.

Lin Bei went into the bedroom and closed the door. He sat down at his desk but didn't turn on the computer immediately. The night outside was quiet; the light in apartment 502 across the hall was already on, its warm yellow glow seeping through the gaps in the curtains.

He stared at the light for a few seconds, then looked away and turned on his computer.

……

The next day was Saturday.

When Lin Bei returned from his run, it was already bright outside. The morning in mid-December was bitterly cold, and his breath condensed into a cloud of white mist in front of him.

He pushed open the door to 502, and Su Wantang was carrying two bowls of porridge out of the kitchen. Steam rose from the porridge, turning into a cloud of white mist in the cold air.

Su Yuan was not there. There was only one set of chopsticks and a bowl opposite the table, with a pair of chopsticks resting on the rim of the bowl, the tips of the chopsticks facing inwards, placed very neatly.

"My dad left early this morning," Su Wantang said, sitting down opposite her. "He said he's going to the store today to check it out and familiarize himself with the environment."

Lin Bei picked up the bowl of porridge and took a sip. Today's porridge was millet and pumpkin porridge; the pumpkin was cooked until it was soft and had dissolved into the porridge, giving it a golden color.

He took a couple of sips, put down the bowl, and looked up at her: "My mom said you should come over and have your measurements taken when you have time."

Su Wantang paused for a moment with her chopsticks: "To measure?"

"Knitting a sweater," Lin Bei said. "She said she needs to measure the shoulder width and arm length, otherwise the sweater won't fit."

Su Wantang lowered her head and gently stirred the contents of her bowl with her chopsticks. She didn't speak, but Lin Bei noticed that the tips of her ears had turned red again.

After finishing breakfast, Lin Bei returned to 501. In the living room, Wang Xiulan was sitting on the sofa with a knitting pattern book open in front of her and a neatly rolled-up measuring tape next to her.

She heard the door open, looked up, and gazed past Lin Bei's shoulder, landing behind him.

Su Wantang was standing at the door, having changed her shoes, with the doorknob still in her hand.

"Auntie, I'm here."

"Come in, come in." Wang Xiulan put down the pattern booklet, patted the sofa next to her, and said, "Sit here, I'll take your measurements."

Su Wantang walked over and sat down. Her movements were very light, as if she wasn't quite sure how she should sit on someone else's sofa.

Wang Xiulan picked up the soft measuring tape, unfolded it, and measured it against her shoulder.

"Relax, don't be so tense," Wang Xiulan said. "If you're tense, the measurements won't be accurate."

Su Wantang's shoulders slowly relaxed. Wang Xiulan wrapped the measuring tape around her shoulder, glanced at the markings, then measured her arm length from a different angle. She paused for a moment when she reached her wrist before putting the tape away.

"Alright." She rolled up the measuring tape and put it back on the coffee table. She picked up the notebook next to her and wrote down a few numbers. "Your frame is a little smaller than your mother's, and your shoulders are a little narrower, but your arm length is about the same."

She put down her pen, looked up at Su Wantang, and said, "You look so much like your mother when she was young. Your mother's face is a bit rounder than yours, and her eyes are bigger too."

Su Wantang's eyelashes trembled.

"She liked to wear light-colored clothes," Wang Xiulan continued, "white dresses in the summer and light blue sweaters in the fall. She knitted that sweater herself; it had a round neck and two white stripes on the cuffs."

Su Wantang lowered her head, her fingers clenching the fabric of her trousers at her knees.

"She walks very fast," Wang Xiulan's voice was a little softer than before. "Every time she comes to my house to deliver food, she knocks loudly on the door. Before I even get to the door, she's already calling out from outside, 'Xiulan, open the door, the soup is here.' Her voice is very loud; the whole floor can hear it."

Su Wantang's eyes reddened.

Wang Xiulan looked at her but didn't say anything more. She reached for the notebook with the measurements on the coffee table, opened it, and then closed it again, as if she were using this action to put away that memory.

"Alright," she said, "I'll knit the sweater properly, you can just wait to wear it."

Su Wantang nodded, blinked hard, and suppressed the moisture in her eyes.

Lin Bei leaned against the doorframe, remaining silent throughout. He noticed a trace of undried moisture still clinging to Su Wantang's eyelashes, which shone briefly in the morning light streaming in from the window before fading away.

After a while, Wang Xiulan went to the kitchen to cook rice and stir-fry vegetables.

Su Wantang walked out of 501, and Lin Bei followed her out.

The door to room 501 closed, and the two stood in the hallway.

"My mom wants to treat you even better," Lin Bei said softly. "Because she feels that she didn't repay your mom for being good to her back then. Now that your mom is gone, she's putting that kindness into you."

She looked up at him.

“Your mother is just like you,” she said, “She does a lot of things, but always says it’s what she should do.”

Lin Bei didn't reply, but scratched the back of his head.

"Are you going to the Shen family's house to play chess later?" she asked.

Lin Bei nodded.

Su Wantang said nothing more, opened the door to 502, went inside, and closed it.

The door closed gently with a click.

……

When Lin Bei arrived at Villa No. 8, the door was already ajar.

The old man sat in the living room, a chessboard set up in front of him, and wisps of white steam rising from the spout of a purple clay teapot.

Hearing footsteps, he looked up, a smile spreading across his face before he could speak: "Kobayashi's here?"

"Good morning, Grandpa Shen." Lin Bei changed his shoes and went in, sitting down opposite the chessboard.

"Have some tea first, to soothe your throat," the old man said, pushing the teacup towards him. Lin Bei picked up the teacup, took a sip, and put it down.

He noticed an extra used cup next to the coffee table, with half a mouthful of cooled tea still at the bottom and a shallow tea stain around the rim.

"Did Uncle Shen just come for a drink?" Lin Bei asked casually.

The old man paused for a moment at the edge of the chessboard, then put down the chess piece and leaned back on the sofa: "He just left not long ago, saying he was going to the company to take care of some things. He was just having tea and he was also talking to me about Li Zeyun's case."

Lin Bei held his teacup without responding, waiting for the old man to continue.

"The police interrogated Li Zeyun again yesterday. He named someone, the financial director of Zhao Heming's company, surnamed Liu, who has been with Zhao Heming for over ten years." The old man tapped his fingers lightly on the sofa armrest twice. "Li Zeyun said that more than half of the money collected by Jinyuan Shared went through that Director Liu's channels into a shell company controlled by Zhao Heming. That Director Liu was taken away yesterday, but during interrogation he insisted that he was the one who operated it and that it had nothing to do with Zhao Heming."

He picked up the teapot and poured himself a cup, then filled Lin Bei's cup to about seven-tenths full: "But your Uncle Shen said that Zhao Heming is most afraid of this kind of thing. Even if Director Liu insists on taking the blame, he won't sit at home and wait for the outcome. Knowing Zhao Heming's personality, he's already looking for someone to suppress this matter for him."

Lin Bei remained silent. He recalled the first time he met Li Zeyun at the Shen family's house. Li Zeyun sat on the sofa, his smile impeccable, his speech composed; no one could tell that he was hiding so much. Now, this man was sitting in a detention center, slowly spilling everything he knew.

The old man put down his teacup and looked at the chessboard. "Your Uncle Shen said that Zhao Heming has become too powerful and deeply rooted in the industry over the past few years. When the wind blows hard, it's not the tree that breaks first, but the unseen roots. This incident won't hurt Zhao Heming himself, but it has already made him start cleaning up the shady things in his company."