The cycle begins to repeat itself today.

I didn't remember the class monitor's name either. Although she held a position in the class and had excellent grades, people like that rarely interacted with me. She didn't try to approach me, and I never intended to either. My familiarity with her was limited to a vague sense of familiarity when I saw her on the street. I wasn't interested in her, and generally, she wouldn't do anything directly related to those of us without class positions. I also rarely had the opportunity to interact with her. But this was a bit unusual. I remember at noon, I was going to the cafeteria for breakfast, and Yezi was sitting in her seat reading. It was she who came to collect the English homework. Logically, this shouldn't be her job. Collecting student homework is the responsibility of the group leaders, usually the top students sitting in the first row of the classroom, and the class monitor was one of them. She probably also served as the group leader for her group, but it shouldn't be her collecting my group's homework. Although it wasn't a big deal, it was definitely not normal. And after I finished breakfast and returned to the classroom, I saw the class monitor standing in her seat looking towards the back of the classroom as soon as I entered. Although I didn't know what she was looking at, Yezi and I were both within her field of vision.

I wondered if I was being too neurotic, and if it was just a coincidence, but my experience made it impossible to easily dismiss this suspicion. I remembered having lunch with Yezi in the cafeteria at noon, and seeing her hurrying out of the classroom when we returned. Although I didn't pay much attention at the time, now that I think about it, her actions reminded me of Yezi before things turned out this way. My vigilance and doubts were growing. I continued thinking, but found that there was no more information about the class monitor after that. I could only temporarily jot her down and focus on the details of what happened that day, completing the process.

I was resting my chin on my hand, head down, deep in thought, when the white hem of my skirt caught my eye and brought me back to reality. I looked up and saw Ye Zi standing in front of me with a glass of water. I took the water; the coolness spread from the glass to my hand. I thanked her, took a sip, and the heat and fatigue brought on by the sweltering weather eased considerably. Ye Zi sat down beside me, and I continued thinking, glass in hand.

After lunch, Yezi and I returned to the classroom. Nothing noteworthy happened in the afternoon, or perhaps I simply didn't witness it, but my memory is blank. I briefly reviewed the afternoon's events, and evening arrived. Nothing noteworthy occurred then either, except that Yezi was still upset about eating too slowly at lunch and deliberately sped up at dinner, but she was still not entirely satisfied. I realized again that she was someone who cared about others, or rather, about my feelings. I wouldn't say anything embarrassing, nor would I feel comfortable saying it. I reached out and gently ruffled her hair. I remembered my mother doing this when I was little, if I did something good. Of course, that hadn't happened in a long time. I wasn't sure if Yezi would like it, but I did it anyway. She obediently didn't react, so she didn't seem to mind.

"Let's go out for dinner tomorrow," I invited her. My hand waved as she nodded, but I withdrew it after seeing her smile. I continued to ponder the issues I needed to consider.

Nothing unusual happened during evening self-study. I thought there would be a test, but it turned out to be a review of a test paper that hadn't been covered before. Due to time constraints, there wasn't time for a pop quiz, so the test papers were handed out as practice exercises to take home and do. That evening was relatively relaxed. After school, I walked home with Yezi. Since a long stretch of the road was along the same route, I didn't mind walking with her. She walked quite fast, and we walked together until we crossed the pedestrian bridge before parting ways. Yezi's house was to the right, while mine was to the left. Yezi seemed a little reluctant to leave, so I comforted her a bit before we finally parted. I think she went home.

If we consider it from that perspective, Ye Zi could indeed have killed me, but I've decided to trust her this time, and I won't waver in my trust in her at a time like this. Besides, the murderous intent and hatred that the person who killed me displayed, even just from their words, is something I don't think Ye Zi could possess. When Ye Zi killed me, she only used one stab, but when I died the second time, my body was pierced with more than a dozen holes, and I still remember those hysterical words. Although I couldn't tell if it was a man or a woman at the time, how could the repeated "die" be so easily erased?

After I was killed, I returned to this familiar night once again. It was 10:17 PM; I was transported back twenty-four hours to what happened that night, the beginning and end of this cycle. There's a lot of information to gather, but first, I need to clarify some of the more obvious issues. For that, I might need to relive this day.

I looked at Yezi again; she was still looking down, shy yet happy.

"Yezi, can you come to school a little earlier tomorrow? Just half an hour earlier than usual, and then you don't have to do anything, just wait for me to get to the classroom."

I want to make this day happen again.

Chapter Sixty-Three: The Regular Steps

It was 11:20. I raised my water glass and drank the rest in one gulp. I placed the glass on the coffee table, stood up, and left. It was time to go. Yezi, who was sitting next to me, also stood up and looked at me.

"Are you already heading back?"

I nodded and reached out to pat her head, trying to reassure her a little.

"It's getting late, and it's time for me to go back. I hope to see you at school tomorrow. But be careful leaving so early in the morning, okay?"

She nodded, and I walked towards her door. Although there had been some mishaps since then, the impact shouldn't be too significant, and Yezi shouldn't be in any sudden life-threatening danger. Next, it was time to confront the murderer. I put on my shoes, and before opening Yezi's door, with my back to her, I took the short sword from my bag, tucked it into my waistband, and covered it with my clothes. To be honest, it was a bit uncomfortable, but for my own safety, it was something I had to endure. As for why I was turning my back to Yezi, it was simply because I didn't want her to see this. I felt shy too, just not as intensely.

I pushed open the door and went out. Ye Zi said goodbye, and I nodded back, then gently closed the door. The sound of the door closing triggered the motion-activated lights in the hallway. I took a deep breath and exhaled softly, calming myself and forcing myself to maintain my composure. My mental state wasn't great at the time, but I couldn't fake even that. I wasn't confident in my acting skills. Rather than risk being discovered, it was better to stay as I was. Slowing down a bit shouldn't have been too bad. It was nighttime; could he possibly see my expression clearly in the darkness? Besides, he was behind me, not in front of me.

Without hesitation, I walked downstairs at my usual pace. From now on, I couldn't walk too fast or too slow, I couldn't show my tension and doubt, and I couldn't constantly look back in fear. Everything had to be as close as possible to the situation I had witnessed back then. I continued walking towards the road above Ye Zi's house and soon arrived at the hospital. The environment here was no different from what I had seen before—the same darkness, the same deep stillness, and the surroundings were quiet. I didn't hear any strange sounds. Perhaps that person hadn't come up the slope; I became even more certain that he came from the hospital. I stepped forward, keeping my eyes fixed straight ahead, only using the corner of my eye to observe my surroundings. The corner of my eye could only provide me with vague information, and in the dark of night, I couldn't see anything, but I continued this meaningless action out of tension. I walked past the hospital until I reached the main road. This section finally had streetlights, and I relaxed slightly, only to become very tense again.

I deliberately kept my walking speed relatively steady, intentionally controlling the force of each step to keep the sound at a level I could quickly distinguish. But after only a couple of steps, I sensed an additional sound in my footsteps that wasn't mine. It wasn't very close, but it was precisely in the middle of the sound range of my footsteps, exceptionally clear. Although the sound was faint, I could still feel it in the quiet environment. My heart tightened. I didn't turn around, but instead used my ears to pinpoint the direction of the sound—to my left rear, where the hospital was located. I felt my guess was correct, and my hand unconsciously touched the hilt of the short sword tucked at my waist. I considered moving to the middle of the road, where it was more open, giving me ample time to react even if something rushed towards me, at least preventing me from being killed defenselessly. But this wasn't a normal thing to do; I couldn't bring myself to do it.

As long as I maintain the same timing and pace as last time and keep moving forward, there shouldn't be any problems. There shouldn't be any issues, although I can't guarantee my actions will be exactly the same as last time, but the differences shouldn't be significant. I came to a streetlamp and remembered turning around there. Following my memory, I turned back, deliberately maintaining a speed similar to my usual turn. Sure enough, I didn't find anything unusual in the darkness. The sound disappeared as well. Just like last time, I was certain he was watching me. I pretended not to have noticed anything, even though I genuinely didn't see anything. I couldn't let him know that I knew someone was hiding in the darkness right now, aiming a sharp blade at my heart.

I continued walking forward, and after only a few steps, the footsteps, following a fixed rhythm, rang out again. I thought he was probably just amusing himself. While a dark street with few people walking around would certainly be a good place to ambush and kill someone, his footsteps would be absolutely useless for assassination, let alone such a rhythmic sound that only occurred when he was moving. He was probably just toying with me. The average person's field of vision is only 120°, and a trained person can probably reach 180°, but I'm just an untrained normal person, naturally falling within the normal range. In this environment, I couldn't see very far at all; there was nothing within my field of vision. But I knew someone was following me from a place I couldn't see. My heart started pounding. I was even a little worried that the person following me would hear my heartbeat in the quiet of the night.

Fortunately, the other party should still be within the range of normal human beings. Of course, I mean that the individual's abilities are still within the range of normal human beings. The sound of my footsteps followed me closely and kept far behind me.

Chapter Sixty-Four: The Suspicious Drunkard

I walked cautiously, finally reaching the entrance to my neighborhood. I didn't stop, continuing forward. I hadn't done so before because I didn't want to bring trouble home, but if I was lucky, I might see his true face. Walking on, I saw the bus stop I'd seen here before. Just as I suspected, there wasn't a drunkard who was already passed out; that person must have come later. I passed the bus stop and continued walking. I kept an eye on the still rhythmic sound behind me. Last time, the sound stopped just as I saw the police station, meaning he'd given up following me before then. If I turned around before that, I'd have a chance to see his true face and run to the police station for help. That was my plan, and my body was prepared for it.

I heard the voice getting closer. I estimated the distance; I was almost in sight of the police station. Forcing myself to keep moving forward despite the cold sweat beading on my skin, I counted down: "Four, three, two, one, turn around!" I jerked my body around, drawing the short sword from my waistband, assuming a prone position ready to roll backward at any moment. I scanned the darkness for my target, but… I saw nothing out of the ordinary. Everything—the scenery, the houses, even the things deliberately placed along the roadside or in front of the convenience store—was unchanged. Something that should have been so close—the killer—was nowhere to be seen. In the darkness, I couldn't even see anything that resembled a person. I remained vigilant, my eyes wide open, searching, but I saw nothing suspicious. Although there were streetlights along this stretch of road, their beams were short, only allowing me to see the area directly beneath them. I was deprived of my means of illumination, and simultaneously terrified by the deadly danger that could lurk in the darkness at any moment.

The phone should be able to be used for lighting, so I took out my phone with my other hand and turned on the screen, but the dim light wasn't even enough to see my own fingers. Damn it, I'm definitely going to ask my sister how to use my phone when I get back, at least how to turn on the flashlight function. I put the phone away; it was pitch black all around, and completely silent. Continuing in the direction I was going would only take me to the police station; the sound disappeared behind me, so he wouldn't appear in the other direction. I remembered the drunkard under the bus stop sign, so I started walking back the way I came. I didn't put the short sword away. If that person still wanted to kill me, he would continue to observe me, which would make him realize I had a short sword and that I was on guard against him, greatly reducing the chances of him attacking me. If he didn't continue observing me and chose to leave, then according to the original plan, there should be someone lying under the bus stop sign by now.

I rushed back and, as expected, saw the drunkard lying under the bus stop sign. I looked around; I wasn't sure if he was still there, but I couldn't waste any more time. I walked towards the drunkard, but stopped abruptly after two steps, gripping my short sword tightly. I suddenly realized this drunkard was very suspicious. I had been focused on the hospital and overlooked the drunkard himself. There are many drunkards in this world, but someone this drunk is quite rare. Most people don't drink to the point of incoherence, let alone collapse outdoors on a night like this. If he were just a simple drunkard, it was too much of a coincidence. Why didn't I see him when I came over, but he appeared here when I turned back? This stretch of road would take me about twenty seconds at my pace, and even less if I walked faster. How coincidental did it have to be for him to appear here in those twenty seconds, and just happen to collapse under the bus stop sign? And was he really drunk? I saw him lying under the bus stop sign and also saw a beer bottle in his hand. I was a little out of it at the time, so I just assumed he was a drunkard who had collapsed there.

Now consider this: beer generally has a low alcohol content. Although it's an alcoholic beverage, its alcohol content isn't enough to make someone drunk so easily unless they drink a lot, and to reach the point of unconsciousness, the amount of beer needed would be enormous. There are no hotels nearby. Starting from the entrance of this residential area and walking towards the police station, apart from a few breakfast shops, there are no restaurants or hotels in this area. That's because the only junior high school in this town, just like the high school I'm currently attending, is the only one in the town. Our town only has a few schools, there are no other options. Generally speaking, there are no tobacco shops or internet cafes near these two schools; it seems to be a rule. So, if you want to drink near these places, you have to go home. And someone this drunk who wants to come to the bus stop usually wouldn't be here. Besides, it's already past 11, around 11:30 PM, where would there be any buses? This drunkard here isn't just being paranoid; he's genuinely very suspicious.

I cautiously approached him, maintaining a posture that allowed me to run at any moment. Before I even got about a meter away, I could already smell the pervasive stench of alcohol. I winced in disgust; the smell was overwhelming, almost tainting the air with alcohol. Unlike the aroma of wine, it was a nauseating odor. I pinched my nose with one hand and moved a little closer. I heard faint breathing; he shouldn't be dead yet. I dared not approach any further. If I did, the chances of him successfully attacking me would be too high; I couldn't risk it. I wanted to check what he had on him, but I didn't have the courage. I thought of a solution—call the police.

Chapter Sixty-Five: The Reasons for Fabrication

I picked up my phone and called the police. The call was answered quickly; the police station was nearby. After accurately reporting the location, I hung up and waited for the police to arrive. I didn't sheath my dagger, worried he might suddenly stand up and try to escape or resist. But even when I faintly heard footsteps rapidly approaching, he didn't move. I stepped back slightly and put the dagger in my bag. The police station was so close; they didn't even need to drive to get here. I saw three men in police uniforms approaching. I stood still and answered their questions. After confirming I was the one who called the police, they began examining the man lying under the bus stop sign. After confirming his vital signs, they determined he was simply intoxicated. Their next step was to find his phone or ID so they could contact his family—this was standard procedure, and the very reason I called the police.

If they searched him, there was a high chance they'd find the murder weapon he was hiding—the sharp object that pierced my heart. I collapsed to the ground when I was backstabbed, so it was impossible to tell what kind of weapon had pierced me. But it didn't matter. A sharp object capable of piercing a normal teenage male's body was, from any angle, definitely a controlled weapon. If they could find it on him, I was at least 70% certain he was the guy who would kill me tomorrow night at this time. But I watched as the police simply searched his pockets and found his phone and ID, without finding anything that would interest them. The officer who had been searching handed the ID and phone to another officer next to him, asking him to find contacts related to him in the phone's address book, while he began trying to wake the drunkard.

Was it because he hid it so well? I didn't have a suitable reason to search his body in front of the police. Although I regretted it a little, I didn't have the courage to risk my life to find evidence. My only purpose in acting was to survive, so how could I do something so suicidal? But I couldn't find a reason to get someone who wasn't an accomplice to help me search his belongings... I've got it.

“Officer, it seems like there are a lot of thieves in this area lately. Could this person be a thief? He's drunk and lying here so late. Maybe he has other stolen items on him. My classmate's house has already been burgled once, but apparently nothing valuable was stolen, so they didn't report it to the police.”

I searched for a suitable reason to frame him, trying to portray the drunkard as a thief who operated at night, and also fabricating a theft that didn't exist but might. Teenagers can't control their tongues, and I encountered this kind of person on my way home, so it wasn't unreasonable for me to have similar concerns. There aren't that many major cases or murders in this world. For ordinary people, disputes, apologies, and fights are already cases that require police mediation. But the police, who have handled many such cases, wouldn't pay too much attention to such thoughts; they have extensive experience in judging cases. They would definitely choose to reassure themselves, telling me he was just a drunkard, and if I maintained my unease and asked them to check, given my status as a high school senior, they might find it troublesome, but they would probably still reluctantly conduct a search. In this town, besides officials, the most valued people are students.

Sure enough, after listening to what I said, they comforted me and the policeman squatting next to the drunk man briefly and gently searched his body for places where he could hide things.

“Look, he only has that bottle, his phone, and his wallet on him. The wallet is his, so he's probably not a thief. Don't worry, it's almost midnight, he probably has class tomorrow morning, right? Go home quickly, just hand him over to us without worry.” The policeman stood up, patted my shoulder, and smiled kindly. “My daughter is a high school sophomore this year. Next year at this time, she'll be coming home this late. You all need to keep up the good work.”

"Thank you, thank you." I felt a little uncomfortable with his friendly attitude; I've always been bad at communicating with others. After responding to him, I said goodbye. I didn't need to go to the police station with them; it wasn't a case, and I didn't need to give a statement. But I didn't leave immediately. I walked a short distance towards home and hid myself in a corner near the corner. Luckily, I could still hear their conversation. I didn't suspect the police; I was still worried about the drunk man. Not finding the murder weapon on him didn't mean he wasn't the killer. In this darkness, he could easily have thrown the weapon into some dark corner, and I wouldn't have found it. When I woke up the next day and went to school, I didn't see him at the bus stop, which meant he had moved it, either actively or passively, and he probably took the murder weapon with him. I had to wait until the police left with him before searching the nearby corner again.

A few minutes later, I heard the police say they were going to take the drunk man back to the station. After waiting a little longer, I tiptoed out from around the corner, ready to slip back in at any moment to avoid being discovered by the police and causing trouble. Fortunately, they did indeed take the drunk man away. I took this opportunity to quickly search the darker corners of the area. I turned on my phone screen to use as a light source, but the screen alone didn't provide much illumination, and my search yielded no results. I couldn't help but doubt my own judgment.

Could it be that he really isn't the murderer? But why did he have to appear at this particular time? Was it just a coincidence? Could there be such a coincidence? If it really was a coincidence, where did the person who was following me go? I could clearly hear his approaching voice before I turned around, but after I turned around, I couldn't see him at all. Why? I became increasingly agitated.

Chapter Sixty-Six: Words of Apology

Having gained nothing, I could only return home. This time, my sudden realization of the drunkard's suspicious behavior had delayed my arrival home considerably; I arrived around 11:40 PM earlier, and now it was almost 11:50. I hurried home, unsure if this unexpected turn of events was within acceptable limits, or if the impact was the same, but I didn't feel too much regret. Whether I could definitively determine if the drunkard was suspicious or not was a huge gain for me. If he was the murderer, everything would end immediately; if not, I could remove him from my list of suspects, at least confirming he didn't play a particularly important role in the incident. However, my current situation was the worst possible scenario—neither could I definitively conclude he was my killer, nor could I completely rule him out. Essentially, everything I did was pointless, and I wasted my time getting home.

I opened my door, feeling a little down. The house was exactly the same as last time I'd seen it. The lights were on, but it was quiet. I could only see my younger sister turning her head slightly to look at me. My parents should be asleep by now; my sister was probably alone in the living room. I forced a normal expression and greeted her.

"Aren't you asleep yet? Where are Mom and Dad?"

"Mom and Dad have already gone to bed, and I'm the only one waiting for you to come back."

After she finished speaking, she shrank back, sat up straight, and continued playing her game. She seemed a little cold today. It took me a while to remember that my tone of voice towards her "yesterday" had been a bit off, and since time had been reset, I hadn't yet given her an explanation that would allow her to forgive me, so this was somewhat understandable. I closed the door, took off my shoes, and went inside. I went back to my room, put down my backpack, and then went to the living room. This time, I had to properly resolve this little problem between us. She was the only person I was somewhat willing to talk to, even if she was only doing so because of family ties, and even with Ye Zi in this less-than-ideal situation, I still cherished my friendship with my sister. But I'm really not good with words. I stood in the living room looking at her, unsure what to say.

Perhaps my gaze was too obvious, or perhaps it was the tacit understanding that came from living together for so many years, because she looked up at me again.

"What's wrong? You look like you have something to say but can't bring yourself to say it."

I was somewhat surprised by how accurately she grasped my state of mind, but this was a good opportunity for me to apologize to her, and I wasn't going to let it slip away.

"It's nothing, I just wanted to apologize. I was wrong last night, my tone wasn't very good, and I made you angry. Um, how should I put it... I'm very sorry."

Although my words were somewhat hesitant, I managed to get through to the point of apologizing. After hearing what I said, my sister sighed and put her phone down.

"I'm not particularly angry. Everyone has bad days. Someone like you who doesn't have many friends at school probably wouldn't say those complaints to other people's faces. I'm the only one who listens to your complaints, so you should remember to thank me."

I nodded. Although she didn't comfort me while speaking, and even scolded me, revealing my true situation without hesitation, and speaking in a somewhat condescending tone, I knew that was just her personality. She was still a kind girl, something I had deeply felt over the past ten years. I didn't mind; for me, as long as she accepted my apology, that was more important than anything else.

"Okay, now that you've apologized, tell me. What happened yesterday? You seemed so upset. And why are you so late today? If you're lying, I'll never forgive you."

She patted the empty seat next to her on the sofa, gesturing for me to sit down. I hesitated for a moment, thinking that I wouldn't be able to wait until after midnight anyway, and I had nothing else to do for the next ten minutes or so. Besides, her request seemed more like a form of punishment, and I wasn't sure if she would be angry if I didn't accept. After all, trying to understand a girl's mind is far too difficult for someone like me who struggles even to grasp the thoughts of men my own age. But I also didn't want to easily shatter the relationship we had just repaired. I needed to carefully consider what I had said last time and what I could say this time; I needed a little time.

"Can I take a shower first? I just got back and I'm covered in sweat."

"Go on, go on, I'll continue watching my TV series, it's getting really interesting."

My sister waved, and after receiving permission, I returned to my bedroom, grabbed my clothes, and headed to the bathroom. I recalled our conversation at this time last time. I told her I was back so late because I'd met someone, but she cleverly guessed it was a girl and showed great interest. However, when she asked what Ye Zi looked like, I couldn't describe her, and I hadn't taken a picture of her. So, the day ended simply like that. I didn't think there was anything wrong with that. But then I thought of the drunkard at the entrance of the complex, and that unknown murderer. I wasn't sure if they were the same person, nor was I sure if I would be attacked again tomorrow, but I was worried about my sister. Although she got home much earlier than me, I wasn't sure if she was safe if such a murderer was lurking around the area. If he attacked other people, I could say it was none of my business, and at most I could only provide information or something minor. But if it threatened my family, I had a responsibility to nip that danger in the bud. Although I'm not a very competent brother and there's nothing admirable about me, I am still my sister's brother. If my sister is in danger, who else should stand up for her if I don't?

Warm water flowed down from above, covering my entire body, and a slightly warm sensation was everywhere. I opened my eyes, and the white tiles in front of me reflected a slightly cold color.

Chapter Sixty-Seven Forgotten Things

After showering, I went to the living room and sat down next to my sister. She put down her phone when she saw me and looked at me with interest. I told her exactly what I had told her before, though there might have been some slight variations in wording. I tried my best to keep the content and information as true as possible. Regarding my outing that evening, I told her I had only gone to meet someone, and as I expected, she guessed it was a girl. I "reluctantly" revealed some information about Yezi, just as I had told her before, and said nothing more. I wanted to keep things as normal as possible, but I also had some doubts about the effectiveness of this approach. My actions before entering the community had already drastically changed my behavior, and I didn't know how much this change would affect me, or even how things would unfold. But since it had already happened, there was no going back.

Besides that, there's something else I need to tell her. It's about the fact that there might be a murderer lurking around our neighborhood. I've already thought of a reason to make it up; although it has some flaws, as long as it makes my sister a little more alert, I won't be too concerned. Her safety is always the most important thing. Unlike me, she doesn't have a second chance.

"Oh, by the way, I have something to tell you. When I came back just now, I saw some suspicious people loitering around here, and the police were questioning them. Something might have happened. It's best if you don't stay out too long when you go home recently, it's not safe."

"Things won't get that serious in a small place like ours, don't worry. Besides, I always go straight home after school, so it's fine. But you're right, it's always good to be careful. I'll tell my parents later, and you should also take care of your own safety."

I nodded, but didn't answer her verbally. The fact that I'd actually been killed once was something I felt I could never bring myself to say. If I did, it would probably be taken as a joke and laughed off; after all, the inability to bring the dead back to life is one of the most basic common sense facts, and my being here meant I wasn't dead. Unless I was a zombie, but that's on par with resurrection—it's unbelievable. These things are impossible to explain, and I wasn't going to waste time explaining them, or spending a lot of time making my sister believe me and worry. Why not just resolve this completely? That would be much more efficient for me.

I glanced at the clock on the living room wall; it was well past midnight. I'd gotten home quite late this time, spent some time showering, and chatted with my sister for a while. Now it was almost 12:20 AM. It was time to sleep. Although only a little over two hours had passed since I was killed, I still felt exhausted, and I didn't know what to do if I didn't sleep.

"It's about time to go to sleep," I reminded my sister. It wasn't late, but I knew she probably wouldn't listen to me. Saying this was less of a reminder and more of fulfilling my duty.

"I know. By the way, do you always remind me because you want me to sleep with you?" She winked and grinned mischievously. I didn't find it a funny joke; her words were a bit too much.

"Don't make such inappropriate jokes." Because of Yezi, my sister's words reminded me of things that made me feel like I deserved to die even if I died right now, and my mood became chaotic again. Perhaps she realized she had said the wrong thing, stuck out her tongue, and stood up from the sofa.

"Then I'll go back to my room too." She walked past me and went back to her room. I watched her close her bedroom door, then turned and went to the water dispenser, poured myself a glass of water, and took a sip. I wanted to think about tomorrow's plans more. Although I had already sent Yezi to school early from her house, I felt like I'd forgotten something, but I couldn't quite put my finger on it. It was just a feeling that made me a little uneasy. I replayed the events before my death in my mind and finally decided to focus my observations on the class monitor. Just like my previous judgment that Yezi was related to my situation, because of the class monitor's "abnormal" behavior, I listed her as a key subject of observation this time. The fact that observing her anomalies had helped me resolve Yezi's situation gave me some confidence in this intuition, which wasn't exactly a gut feeling. I unilaterally decided that continuing to investigate the class monitor might yield unexpected results. Now, thinking about it, it was probably just because I hadn't yet found anyone more abnormal than her.

However, because of the drunkard incident, I've placed even greater suspicion on him. What could the class monitor possibly have to do with this? I don't have the imagination to figure it out, and perhaps investigating her would be futile. But who knows? I don't have any more compelling targets to investigate right now. I haven't obtained any important information from the drunkard, and I can't even be sure if he's connected to my current situation. Making premature judgments and labeling anything suspicious isn't a good way to unravel a mystery.

I put the water glass back on the coffee table, went back to my bedroom, and lay down on the bed. I thought I would fall asleep quickly, but I was surprised to find that I couldn't sleep. I looked around the pitch-black room with some irritation; the only light coming in was the faint starlight from outside the window. A chill ran down my spine; I realized I had forgotten something. Just over ten minutes ago, I was outside asking my sister how to turn on the flashlight on her phone. How could I have forgotten?

So that's what I forgot about earlier. It's really... I can't describe how I feel right now. I think I've probably been through a lot, so I'm a little slow to process it. My sister shouldn't be asleep yet; if I go ask her now, it should still be in time. I sat up in bed, ready to go check on my sister.

Chapter Sixty-Eight: Functions of Mobile Phones

I came out of my room and, feeling my way in the dark, followed my memory to my sister's room. When I reached her bedroom door, less than a minute had passed; she definitely wasn't asleep yet. I gently knocked on her door, and soon heard her say, "Come in." I turned the doorknob and opened the door. Bright light shone into the room, and she stood by the window, enjoying the evening breeze. It was still quite warm; although there was a fan in her room, it didn't seem very well-ventilated. My room, on the other hand, didn't need a fan, but it was freezing cold on winter nights.

"If you had come half a minute later, you would have seen me without my pajamas. Oh, I forgot you don't like talking about this. Weren't you going to sleep? Why are you talking to me again?" She's rather carefree and doesn't seem to care much about these things. That's just her personality, and I don't have a way to directly change her habit, so it's better not to say too much here and get straight to the point.

"I wanted to ask you how to turn on the flashlight on a mobile phone. I wanted to ask that earlier, but I forgot. You should know much more about mobile phones than I do."

"That's it? I do know it, and it's quite simple. But you really don't seem to have much enthusiasm or curiosity for this kind of thing. Normally, once you get your hands on a phone, shouldn't you figure it out completely within an hour or two? You've already had this phone for three years..."

I couldn't refute what she said, so after handing her the phone, I didn't reply. I'm too lazy to explore things I'm not interested in. To me, a phone is more like a high-tech version of a watch, or an alarm clock. I rarely even use the calling function because nobody calls me. But I'm used to it, so I don't really care.

"Look, just press here first, then here... never mind, you'll probably forget if I say it like this. I've put this function on your home screen for you. If you want to turn on the flashlight, just turn on the flashlight icon, then press this button, and the flashlight will turn on." She turned on the flashlight function and demonstrated it to me: "If you don't need it anymore, just turn it off. It's that simple. It's time you tried to keep up with the times."

"I'll try." I took back my phone and pressed the flashlight button. Sure enough, the flashlight turned on, much brighter than the light from the phone screen. It's really great that technology is this convenient. Maybe I should try to keep up with the times, just like my sister said.

Having achieved my goal, I wasn't going to delay any longer. Not only me, but my sister also needed to sleep, and it wouldn't be good to keep her from sleeping any longer, even though she usually goes to bed later than this. But it was time for me to sleep. Although I had been resurrected, my conscious activity time had indeed exceeded the normal activity time by more than two hours, and sleepiness was creeping up on me. Even if I forced myself not to sleep, it wouldn't do me any good. I was going to go back to sleep.

"Then I'll go back to sleep now, goodnight."

"Goodnight." She waved to me. I took my phone, turned, and left her bedroom, closing the door behind me. I headed to my own bedroom. It was late at night; apart from a few barks, I couldn't hear anything else. I needed to be in good spirits so I could do better tomorrow. I went back to my room, put my phone on my bedside table, lay down, closed my eyes, and fell asleep almost immediately.

When I woke up one day, my phone, which was on my bedside table, rang. Lately, I've rarely woken up in a dazed state. I immediately picked up my phone to check; the date was September 13th. I hadn't expected this outcome. Although I still don't understand the principle behind this time reset or the exact cause of this phenomenon, one thing has become clearer—if I die, there's a high probability I'll return to the 24 hours before my death. This reset isn't affected by normal time resets; in fact, my re-emergence from September 12th was triggered by being stabbed to death by a leaf. Currently, there seem to be two ways this situation of returning to the past occurs: one is to wait for it to happen at an unknown time, under unknown circumstances or for unknown reasons. However, I'm not sure if returning to the past using this method would be exactly 24 hours prior, because I currently have no control over my sleep and wake-up times, and therefore cannot conduct any experiments on this phenomenon. Secondly, I was killed and returned to 24 hours earlier. This method has been verified. Although I really don't know how many times this method will work, or whether these two times were inevitable or coincidental, I did return to 24 hours before I was killed in a conscious state. There are examples to support this. Although I don't have the courage to actively test whether this guess is correct, I think this idea should be correct. At least the situation I see so far has brought about this result.

I woke up at the same time as usual. After quickly washing up and changing my clothes, I grabbed my schoolbag and headed to school. Walking the same route again, seeing the familiar scenes, I didn't suspect anything. I saw a breakfast shop on the street and was about to walk over when I suddenly remembered that I hadn't eaten breakfast that morning. To keep things as they were, I went anyway; it was just a little late breakfast, nothing serious.

However, compared to last time, this time I started to consciously observe my surroundings. Because of the drunkard from last night, I harbored deep suspicion towards him, so I remembered his face. I thought that if he truly harbored hatred towards me to some extent and wanted to kill me, he would probably come here to observe me, looking for an opportunity to deliver a fatal blow. But I couldn't find anyone whose face looked similar to his. Perhaps I'm really not good at observing. I was a little discouraged, but I still didn't give up. I believed that if I persisted under these circumstances, I would eventually be rewarded.