Chapter 0012: Youth Is Like a Poem

Just as Zhao Fusheng thought he had successfully convinced Zheng Yao, the teacher suddenly slapped him on the shoulder.

"Slap!"

A crisp sound.

"You little rascal, trying to fool me, huh? What do you know about starting a business?" Zheng Yao rolled her eyes at Zhao Fusheng, her gaze shifting, beautiful and moving.

Zhao Fusheng looked helpless. He couldn't exactly tell her that in his previous life, he had seen too many young people who, on a whim, thought they could do great things but ended up battered and bruised.

After thinking it over, he shrugged: "I just think doing business isn't that simple."

"Alright, don't worry about your teacher's affairs." Zheng Yao patted Zhao Fusheng's shoulder: "Go back. I'll handle Professor Qin. Don't cause any more trouble."

With that, she turned and left.

Zhao Fusheng sat there, his gaze deep, but he didn't turn to look at Zheng Yao.

He realized he had oversimplified things.

Perhaps he had ideas ahead of others and knew many things that were about to happen, but the problem was that in many people's eyes, as a sophomore, he wasn't capable of taking on responsibilities.

In other words, even if he talked until he was blue in the face, they might not listen.

The impression that a beardless youth is unreliable was one thing; more importantly, without evidence, why would they believe him?

A person's life is like a practice; it's easy to be led astray by unreliable ideas. Any idea not carefully considered, if put into action, could change a person's fate.

...

...

When Zhao Fusheng returned to the dormitory, Wang Zhen and Wen Yu were not there; they had probably gone to play basketball. Instead, Tan Kaixuan was sitting there biting his pen, pondering something.

"What are you doing?" Zhao Fusheng walked up to Tan Kaixuan and said abruptly.

"You scared me to death!"

Tan Kaixuan was clearly startled. He jumped up and glared at Zhao Fusheng: "Go away, don't bother me with important stuff."

"What important stuff?" Zhao Fusheng asked with a grin.

He had probably guessed it. Tan Kaixuan must be writing a love letter to his secret crush, Zhou Qing. Zhao Fusheng remembered clearly that in his previous life, at this time, the guy wrote a nondescript love letter to Zhou Qing, and she threw it away.

It was said that Zhou Qing later went abroad and married a foreigner, but divorced a few years later due to domestic violence.

"Well, I want to write a letter to Hu Xia." Tan Kaixuan said shyly, looking embarrassed.

But at that moment, Zhao Fusheng was stunned.

"Who? Hu Xia?"

"What's wrong? Do you like her too?"

Tan Kaixuan was startled and asked in surprise.

Zhao Fusheng felt as if something was burning in his chest. His vision went dark, like an endless night enveloping him. He turned and took out his address book. The moment he opened the notebook, his heart began to ache.

Zhou Qing, Zheng Yuanfeng, Ji Zhijie, Yuan Lu...

Those names from memory had disappeared.

Replaced by Hu Xia, Lin Hai, Yu Xiaoxiao...

After a long while, Tan Kaixuan's cautious voice sounded in Zhao Fusheng's ear: "Hey, are you feeling unwell?"

Zhao Fusheng came back to his senses and saw Tan Kaixuan looking at him with concern.

He smiled: "I'm fine, just a little discomfort in my heart."

"You scared me. I thought you were upset because I'm going to confess to Hu Xia." Tan Kaixuan patted his chest.

Zhao Fusheng shook his head: "No, I'm not familiar with her."

He really wasn't familiar, because Zhao Fusheng had never heard of that name and had no memory of that person. He finally realized that the place he was in was different from the original world.

Certain parts of life were torn away by the power of time, eventually separating from one's own life—a kind of helpless pain and torment.

Fortunately, in the life that remained, the important people were still there.

At that moment, Zhao Fusheng felt a tightness in his chest.

"Fusheng, do you think Hu Xia will accept me?" At that moment, Tan Kaixuan's voice sounded in Zhao Fusheng's ear, pulling his thoughts back to reality.

"Probably..." Zhao Fusheng hesitated and said listlessly. He really didn't know, because he didn't understand who this Hu Xia was.

"The problem is, I don't know what poem to write for her." Tan Kaixuan looked bitter.

"Write a poem?"

Looking at Tan Kaixuan's bitter expression, Zhao Fusheng was bewildered, then realized it was still 1999. In college, the ways to pursue a girl were either love letters or playing guitar under their dormitory window.

But if he remembered correctly, Tan Kaixuan was no good at either love poems or love songs.

Lying down, Zhao Fusheng thought he should focus on figuring out how to make money. It was better not to get involved in matters of love.

"Hey, hey, hey, you have no sense of loyalty." Tan Kaixuan wasn't about to let Zhao Fusheng off. He rushed over and turned Zhao Fusheng around, facing him: "My lifelong happiness is in your hands."

Zhao Fusheng rolled his eyes, wanting to tell him that he was dreaming; his true love was not Hu Xia at all.

But the most frustrating thing was that no one knew this truth except himself, and Zhao Fusheng couldn't guarantee that in this world, which differed from his memory, Hu Xia wouldn't make the same decision as Zhou Qing to reject Tan Kaixuan.

With that thought, Zhao Fusheng pushed Tan Kaixuan away and held up a finger: "Jixian Ju."

The meaning was simple: he would help write the love letter, and Tan Kaixuan would have to treat him to a meal at Jixian Ju, the best barbecue place near the school.

Tan Kaixuan hesitated for a long time, then gritted his teeth for the sake of his happiness and nodded: "Okay, but if she rejects me, it doesn't count."

In other words, if Hu Xia rejected him, the meal was off.

Zhao Fusheng thought it over; it was fair enough, so he nodded in agreement.

He found a piece of paper, spread it out, picked up a pen, and began to ponder.

After a moment, he started writing a few lines on the paper.

"That night, I listened to chanting for a whole night, not for enlightenment, but to find a trace of you.

That month, I turned all the prayer wheels, not for salvation, but to touch your fingerprints.

That year, I prostrated myself and embraced the dust, not to worship the Buddha, but to feel your warmth.

That lifetime, I traversed all the great mountains, not for the next life, but to meet you on the road.

That instant, I ascended to immortality, not for eternal life, but to bless you with peace and joy."

This world was still the world of his memory. Although many things were different, what the Creator had given him was not only a chance to start over but also the presence of those who had left, perhaps so that he could start anew for them as well.