Chen Yan was thrown into wakefulness, his body jerkily rising into a panic of gasps. The crown of his head thudded against the cold metal framework of a bunk bed. His skull screamed in protest with one immediate, sharp pain.
"Ah, fuck! What the—"
"Yo, Chen Yan, what's with all the noise? Bad dream?" came a familiar voice from above.
Chen Yan froze mid-groan, his heart hammering. Slowly, he lifted his eyes to the bed above him. That voice-it was unmistakable. With cautious movements, Chen Yan looked around.
Stale air punched him in the face first: instant noodles, damp socks, and sweat-mostly that-rammed him with the force of a sledgehammer. Then there was chaotic clutter: peeling wall posters of some random rock bands, a desk messed up with soda cans, textbooks, and what looked like dirty laundry.
His throat tightened.
He knew this place.
No way. This can't be real.
He scrambled to his feet, legs all tangled in the scratchy blanket, and then he stumbled across the tiny dorm room, grabbed the mirror hanging on the door, and looked into it.
Staring back was not the worn and haggard man he was accustomed to seeing every morning rising in his first life, but instead, impossible-the reflection coming back from the mirror was years younger: smooth skin, bright, sparkling eyes, and not a line or wrinkle anywhere.
"Fuck me," Chen Yan breathed. "I'm. twenty again."
---
"Fucking serious, bro, you just look like you've seen a ghost," Wang Qi said, looking up over the top bunk with an arched brow. His bed-head was practically a nest, and a shirtless torso only contributed to the bird imagery.
Chen Yan barely heard him. He turned to his phone charging on the desk, his hands shaking. The screen sprang to life.
The date stared at him like a slap in the face.
10 years ago.
"This can't be."
A memory of the truck burst forth-the sound of screeching tires, the blinding lights, the sickening crunch of impact.
And then that voice.
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"Fuck. That voice. It wasn't a dream," Chen Yan muttered, his pulse quickening, his chest tightening.
Wang Qi climbed down, slapping a hand on Chen Yan's shoulder. "Yo, you're acting weird. Did you flunk a test or something? Chill, man. College isn't that serious."
Chen Yan blinked at him, trying to process. Wang Qi—his old roommate. His lazy, obnoxious, but ultimately harmless friend. Someone Chen Yan hadn't thought about in years.
"...Yeah. Just stressed, that's all," Chen Yan muttered, shaking off his hand.
Wang Qi shrugged. "Well, whatever. I’m grabbing breakfast. Don’t skip class, man. Prof Zhao hates slackers."
As Wang Qi left, Chen Yan slumped into the desk chair, his mind racing.
---
A chill crept over the room. Without warning, a glowing blue screen materialized in front of him, and that same voice echoed in his head:
"Welcome back, Chen Yan. Miss me?"
Chen Yan's stomach fell. "You again?! What the fuck is this?!"
The text scrolled across the screen smoothly:
[Welcome to the Urban Warrior System.]
[Your Starting Mission: Rewrite your fate. Task 1: Earn 500 yuan within 24 hours.]
The voice went on, always so smug. "Pretty straightforward, right? You've got a fresh start. Don't waste it."
Chen Yan's fists were clenched. "What the hell do you want from me?"
"Me? I'm here to help you fix your sorry excuse for a life. Be grateful, champ. Not everyone gets a do-over."
"Fix my life? By making me sell shit for pocket change? How is 500 yuan gonna help?"
The System chuckled darkly. "Baby steps, my friend. You think you're ready to take on the world overnight? Please. You're lucky I didn't start you off with something harder, like pole dancing for tips."
Chen Yan's eye twitched. "You're a real asshole, you know that?"
"'Thanks for noticing. Now, get moving. Clock's ticking."
The blue screen flickered, the timer ticking down ominously: [23:57:45 remaining.]
---
Chen Yan leaned back, rubbing his temples. His heart was still racing, but finally, his brain caught up. He was given a second chance, quite literally a miracle. In his first life, he was too proud and stubborn when hustle became tough. This time, it wouldn't happen. "Alright, System. You want me to earn money? Fine."
The first thing that came to his mind was selling junk. Campuses were full of students seeking bargains, and Chen Yan knew he had plenty of things that he never used. He rummaged through the dorm, pulling together a box of random items:
> - Old phone cases
>
> - Keychains
>
> - Secondhand textbooks
He lugged the box toward the university plaza, a popular marketplace where students exchanged everything from snacks to electronic gadgets.
---
As Chen Yan was rigging up a bench as a makeshift stall, the System piped up again.
"Bold move, but your sales pitch sucks. Need a boost?"
Chen Yan muttered softly under his breath, "I don't need your help, asshole."
"Oh, really? Because you’ve been sitting here for ten minutes, and the only person who stopped was a dog."
Chen Yan glared at the glowing screen. "Fine. What’s your big idea?"
"Charisma boost. Five minutes. Use it wisely."
A strange sensation washed over Chen Yan—a surge of confidence, like he could charm the socks off a nun. His voice felt smoother, his posture more commanding.
"Hey, you! Yeah, you," Chen Yan hailed as a student passed by. He held up the cell phone case as if he were holding a rare relic of some sort. "Check it out. Vintage design and extremely hard to find nowadays. Only 50 yuan!"
The student seemed doubtful but walked closer. "Really? It's vintage?"
Chen Yan nodded, lying through his teeth. "Really, really. Limited edition. Absolutely for someone with your style."
In minutes, students flocked to his stand. Chen Yan worked the crowd like a pro: with fast wit and the occasional white lie, he sold almost everything in his box.
---
When Chen Yan finally returned to his dorm, he was exhausted but triumphant. He counted his earnings: 610 yuan.
The System chimed in, smug as ever. "Not bad, rookie. Mission accomplished."
The blue screen appeared once more:
[Task 1 Complete: Reward Unlocked – Beginner Combat Skill: Iron Fist]
Chen Yan frowned. "Iron Fist? What the hell is that supposed to mean?"
"Oh, you’ll see. Let’s just say it’ll come in handy the next time someone tries to mug you."
Chen Yan’s stomach tightened. "Wait. Is someone going to try to mug me?"
The System didn't say it directly. Instead, it giggled, the voice dark and mocking. "Let's just say that life is about to get a whole lot more interesting for you."
---
Later in the night, Chen Yan lay in bed, staring at the ceiling. His body was sore, while his mind buzzed. He thought of his first life: how he had wasted his potential, trusted the wrong people, and let pride get in the way of survival.
This time, he promised himself, things would go differently.
No more being a pushover. No more second-guessing oneself.
Yet just as he was finally plunged into the dream world, a question plagued his mind.
What is this System, really? And why should it be inclined to help me?