Rebirth: Looking Back in a Sudden Realization - Chapter 11

As the office building grew gradually noisier, Shao Chuyan knew it was past 8:30 a.m.—the teachers had returned from the morning meeting. She slung her backpack over her shoulder and calmly walked up to the third floor, scanning the door signs until she quickly found the principal’s office.

She knocked lightly. From inside came a slightly imperfect Chinese pronunciation:

“Please come in.”

Pushing the door open, Chuyan entered with a confident smile, her delicate face radiating energy and poise.

The principal’s office was spacious. Through panoramic floor-to-ceiling windows, she could see the school’s central plaza with a fountain. Between the entrance and the desk was a large visitor sofa set. Behind the desk, a blond, blue-eyed man in his fifties was busy flipping through documents, his furrowed brow showing seriousness. Not noticing her at first, he finally looked up and was surprised to see a young girl smiling at him.

Principal Edward paused his work, squinting slightly as he spoke in Chinese:

“And you are?”

Chuyan studied the scholarly-looking British principal before her and politely responded in flawless London-accented English:

“Hello, Principal Edward. My name is Shao Chuyan, English name Joy. I hope to transfer to Qiushi Academy to attend the first year of high school. Here are my documents.”

She handed over the stack of papers.

Edward raised an eyebrow, amused. He stood up, took the papers without opening them, and gestured for her to sit at his desk. He continued in English:

“Little Joy, how did you get here? Do your parents know?”

Chuyan shook her head. “My mother thinks I’ve already been accepted and am just here to complete the formalities. In reality, I’m only just arriving at your office.”

Edward shook his head. “Lying to your mother isn’t good. I’m sorry, but you cannot enroll in our school.”

Chuyan’s expression did not falter; instead, her smile grew even more sincere.

“Principal Edward, don’t you think it contradicts your ‘pragmatic innovation’ teaching philosophy to dismiss such an outstanding student without asking a single question?”

Edward was momentarily stunned. “Why?”

Shao Chuyan straightened her back. “If you truly value pragmatism, shouldn’t you at least ask why I want to come here?”

Edward chuckled, wrinkles deepening on his face, a glint of interest in his clear blue eyes. “Then tell me—why are you sitting in front of me? And I want the truth, little Joy.”

She explained:

“I suddenly applied for a transfer because I learned that my divorced parents, separated for ten years, actually still love each other. So I gave up immigrating to the U.S. and moved to Jincheng, where my father and younger brother live. I have only seen my brother once in the past ten years; he has been raised by my father and studies at Qiushi Academy. I want to be closer to my family—that is why I hope to attend your school.”

Edward stroked his chin, then asked: “Why should I make an exception for you?”

Chuyan smiled confidently:

“First, my grandfather was Shao Tianwei. He passed away five years ago, and the Shao family in Shangcheng is no longer as prominent. Accepting my transfer will at least not tarnish the school’s reputation. Second, my academic record is excellent. My documents contain numerous awards and work samples. My specialties include ballet, piano, and painting, and I am fluent in English, French, and Chinese. Finally, please look at this.”

She handed him an A4-sized printout.

Edward examined it carefully, his eyes lighting up.

It was a fashion illustration of a women’s evening gown—a design unseen in today’s fashion world. Minimalist yet intricate, boldly featuring a fully open back, drawn with a professional flair far beyond a typical high schooler’s level. He pondered it for a long moment, then looked at Chuyan.

“Miss Joy, you are indeed talented. I can accept your transfer reason. May I ask—since your brother can study here, shouldn’t you be able to as well? Who is your father?”

Chuyan shook her head. “I’m sorry, I cannot say.”

Edward sighed. “In that case, I can only apologize. You are talented, yes, but I still lack a reason to convince my colleagues. Not everyone would be as understanding as I am. Don’t you agree?”

He began to stand, signaling the end of the meeting.

Chuyan had been waiting for this moment. From her pocket, she took out the passbook she had prepared, opened it, and placed it on the desk.

“My mother said this is a token of her sincerity towards education. I hope this donation can help the school.”

Edward glanced at the passbook showing one million yuan, a small smile forming on his lips. He nodded:

“Please thank your mother for me. I assume this is unrelated to your transfer, right?”

Chuyan nodded. “Of course. Just support for education.”

He handed all the documents back, walked to the door, and escorted her out. As she was about to leave, he called out:

“Joy, please go to the second office on the left and ask my secretary Lisa to take your documents.”

Chuyan smiled politely. “My honor, Principal Edward.”

Before closing the door, he asked: “Your contact number is on the papers, right?”

“Of course,” she replied.

Once the door fully closed behind her, Chuyan exhaled deeply—done!

After leaving Qiushi Academy, she didn’t go home directly. With her brother’s birthday only half a month away, she detoured to the Montblanc boutique on Nanyi Road. Montblanc hadn’t yet started high-end customization, saving her some waiting time. She pre-ordered a new sapphire fountain pen from the German headquarters—should arrive in time.

Walking along the French plane tree-lined street, Chuyan pondered her next steps.

All this effort—moving and transferring—was to create more opportunities for family interaction. She didn’t fully understand her father’s thoughts but knew he hadn’t remarried, and had even wanted to reconcile with her mother. She also understood that her mother had always loved her father but couldn’t let go of the past betrayal. Back then, she hadn’t understood at all. She picked up a plane tree fruit from the ground, its green spines pricking her slightly. She silently wished her mother could be happy too.

Her main reason for transferring to Qiushi Academy, however, remained a secret: a photograph of her father with a mysterious woman.

Her hand clenched the plane tree fruit tightly, ignoring the pain.

That photo was her only clue. The fox-like woman wasn’t Xu Fenyin or anyone she knew now. Her father and the woman looked slightly older than in the present, but the background was unmistakable—the school gate of Qiushi Academy! If she could get in, maybe she could uncover something. The thought made her heart ache—she had no clue who her enemy was, where they were, or what they wanted. They operated in darkness while she worked in the light. The uncertainty nearly drove her mad.

After rebirth, she had hidden all her previous fears and hatred and learned to play the role of a cute thirteen-year-old girl. While Shao Yin’er could sense subtle changes, her mother would suspect nothing.

In her previous life, she had no desires, avoided interaction, and focused solely on art. The Shao family’s wealth allowed them a comfortable life, so she had casually opened a gallery for leisure.

This life was different—she bore a heavy responsibility: protect her parents and brother at all costs. She didn’t know why her father went bankrupt and attempted suicide or why her brother had been kidnapped. She would investigate, seek revenge, but ensure the past never repeated.

Clenching her fists, her gaze sharp and determined, she realized being a thirteen-year-old girl bought her time but also imposed limitations. She didn’t even have an ID card; any warning to her father would lack credibility. She would rely on the limited business knowledge she possessed.

Currently, she had only 190,000 yuan in cash. She needed to make quick money. Passing by a lottery shop, she paused.

She remembered seeing a news report shortly after going abroad about a set of interesting lottery numbers: red balls 5, 10, 15, 20, 25, 30 and blue ball 5. That draw had no winner. She didn’t recall which draw exactly but decided to try her luck.

“Ten tickets of double-color ball, please,” she told the elderly shopkeeper.

“Numbers?” he asked habitually, looking down.

She recited the numbers she remembered. He glanced at her, assuming she was a bored girl, and printed the tickets.

Chuyan casually took them and left. She resolved to keep buying until they won. In these twelve years of rebirth, she aimed to quietly accumulate wealth—so that if history repeated, she could protect her family at critical moments.

Returning to the hotel, Shao Yin’er had just come back with the doorman, carrying many packages. Chuyan hurriedly took a few.

“Mom, what did you buy all this for?”

Yin’er took off her heels, opening a box: “Here, Yan-yan, try this new knit top I bought for you.” She pulled out a small pink crew-neck sweater.

Chuyan took it reluctantly. The style, conservative with a high neckline, didn’t match her tastes. Used to mixing fashion elements creatively, this seemed dull and old-fashioned.

Since returning to 1999, she had been mostly happy—but the fashion and electronics were hard to accept. Imagine someone accustomed to 4-inch touchscreen 3G phones suddenly seeing blue-screen, keypad-only phones as “high-end” advertising! TVs were bulky boxes, not wall-mounted widescreens. Mainstream fashion was loose, conservative, and traditional, clashing with the diverse tastes Chuyan had experienced over the next decade.

Playing with the sweater, she realized she could leverage her knowledge of future fashion trends to create mass-market clothing—surely a hit.

Yin’er tried on a pair of red pointed shoes, walking gracefully.

“Do they look good?” she asked.

Chuyan nodded happily. “Yes! Let’s do a market survey first.”

Yin’er gathered all the items in the room, then hesitated.

“Yan-yan, how will we celebrate Yuan’s birthday?”

Chuyan handed her mother a soda and smiled. “It’s his twelfth birthday. Dad will definitely celebrate it properly.”

Yin’er nodded silently, avoiding eye contact.

Chuyan teased lightly, “Mom, you want to celebrate with him, don’t you?”

Sniffling, Yin’er replied calmly, “No, he usually celebrates with the Zhao family. I’ve never celebrated with him before.” There was a faint bitterness in her voice.

Chuyan squinted slightly, thinking—yes, Yuan was just over a month old when their parents divorced. She pretended to relax, turning on a drama on TV and leaning against the sofa with a pillow, lost in thought.