Reborn in 2000: I'm the Boss's Driver

The fluorescent lights in the lottery shop hummed like a swarm of cicadas trapped in summer.

Lin Fan gripped the thin piece of paper tightly, his knuckles turning white from the force. Sweat trickled down his forehead, stinging his eyes, but he dared not blink. The winning numbers hanging on the lottery shop wall burned white marks onto his retina.

前区：03、12、19、27、35。

Back area: 06, 11.

He looked down and then at the one in his hand.

Word for word.

The cold air from the air conditioner swept across the back of his neck, raising goosebumps. Other people were still inside redeeming prizes; their complaints, sighs, and the scratching of scratch cards all receded into the distance. The world was so quiet that only his own heartbeat remained—thump, thump, thump, so heavy it felt like it would shatter his chest.

"Boss..." Lin Fan began, his voice so hoarse he barely recognized himself, "Could you... take another look?"

The lottery shop owner was a balding middle-aged man, engrossed in playing Dou Dizhu (a popular Chinese card game) on his phone. He took the lottery ticket, glanced at the screen casually, then at the ticket itself. Then he stopped.

The phone emitted a notification tone that said, "Hurry up, I'm getting impatient."

The boss slowly raised his head, stared at Lin Fan for two seconds, then looked down again to carefully check. This time, he took a full half minute.

"You..." The boss opened his mouth, then lowered his voice, "You have to go to the provincial center to redeem this."

Lin Fan felt his legs go weak. He grabbed the greasy countertop, the plastic surface feeling cool to the touch.

"Really hit?"

"First prize." The shopkeeper's eyes gleamed behind his glasses. "This is the only winning ticket tonight, and the prize money is... over 8.4 million. After taxes, it'll be around 6.7 million."

Six million seven hundred thousand.

Lin Fan's mind went blank. He was forty-five years old and worked as a temporary worker at the water company, earning four thousand two hundred a month. His wife worked in a supermarket, stocking shelves, but had a bad back and often couldn't sleep at night due to the pain. His son was in his final year of high school, and tutoring fees cost five thousand a month. They still had twelve years left on their mortgage, and their car was a used domestic model; they had just had the transmission repaired last month, which cost three thousand.

Six million seven hundred thousand is enough for him to pay off all his loans, enough for his wife to get the best physical therapy, enough for his son to go to any university he wants, enough for his whole family...

"Brother," the shopkeeper's voice pulled him back to reality, "Did you bring your ID? Keep the lottery ticket safe, don't break it or get it dirty. Go to the provincial capital to claim the prize tomorrow, don't delay." The shopkeeper paused, then added, "It'd be best to wear a mask and hat."

Lin Fan nodded mechanically, carefully tucked the lottery ticket into the innermost compartment of his wallet, and zipped it up. After doing this, his hands began to tremble.

Stepping out of the lottery shop, the summer night heat hit me. The street-side food stalls were packed with people; the sounds of clinking beer bottles, sizzling stir-fries, and men playing drinking games filled the air with lively chatter. It all felt unreal, as if I were looking through frosted glass.

He walked to his secondhand car, opened the door, and got in. He didn't start the engine; he just sat there.

His face was reflected in the car window—a typical middle-aged face: deep lines at the corners of his eyes, graying temples, and a habitually downturned mouth, marks left by years of worrying about life. But at this moment, there was a pair of unusually bright eyes on that face, almost frighteningly bright.

He pulled out his phone, his fingertips still trembling. He swiped to "Wife" in his contacts and dialed.

"Hey? Lao Lin, are you off work?" His wife Wang Juan's voice came through the phone, with the beeping of the supermarket cash register and the rustling of plastic bags in the background. "I'll be home later; I'm taking inventory today."

"Juan'er," Lin Fan heard his voice trembling, "I...I won the lottery."

There was a two-second silence on the other end of the phone.

"How much did you win? Five yuan or ten yuan?" Wang Juan smiled, her voice carrying a tired ease. "Perfect, I have money for groceries tomorrow."

"No..." Lin Fan took a deep breath, "First prize. Eight million four hundred thousand."

A very long silence followed. So long that Lin Fan thought the signal had been lost.

"Wang Juan?"

"…Old Lin," his wife's voice suddenly became very soft and cautious, "have you…been drinking?"

"No! I really didn't drink!" Lin Fan said urgently. "The lottery ticket is right here in my hand. I just checked it at the store, and the boss told me to go to the provincial lottery center to claim the prize. After taxes, it's six million seven hundred thousand... six million seven hundred thousand, Juan'er!"

I could hear rapid breathing coming from the other end of the phone.

"Where...where are you now?" Wang Juan's voice began to tremble.

"In the car. I just came out of the lottery shop."

"You just wait there! Don't go anywhere! I... I'll ask for leave and come right away!" Wang Juan's voice was already trembling with tears. "Lin Fan, listen to me, keep the lottery ticket safe! Keep it tightly under your guard! Don't tell anyone! Do you hear me? I'm coming right now!"

After hanging up the phone, Lin Fan leaned back in his seat and let out a long, long breath.

Then he laughed. First a low laugh, then the sound grew louder and louder, until tears streamed down his face. He pounded on the steering wheel, laughing like a madman in the car. As he laughed, tears actually started flowing, hot and unstoppable.

He thought of many things. He thought of the tiny 15-square-meter room he rented when he got married, which was as cold as an icebox in winter; he thought of holding that tiny life when his son was born, vowing to give the child the best life; he thought of when his mother was sick, he emptied his savings but was still short 30,000 yuan, and in the end, his sister secretly slipped it to him; he thought of every class reunion, he would sit in the corner, listening to his successful classmates talk about their lives...

It's all in the past now.

From now on, he will take Juan'er to Yunnan, a place she has always wanted to visit, to see Erhai Lake; he will buy his son the best computer so he won't have to borrow from classmates so often; he will bring his parents to live with him and hire a nanny to take care of them; he will move to a bigger house, the kind with a balcony, because Juan'er has wanted to grow flowers for more than ten years...

He felt a surge of heat coursing through his body, his blood rushing through his veins, making his eardrums buzz. His heart was beating too fast, abnormally fast, like a wild rabbit was pounding wildly in his chest.

excruciating pain.

It was as if an invisible hand had gripped his heart, squeezing and crushing it. All the air was instantly sucked out of his lungs; he opened his mouth wide, but couldn't inhale a single breath of oxygen. His vision began to darken, black mist rising from the edges, and the glow of the neon lights spread into blurry spots.

Do not……

It can't be now...

The lottery ticket... is in my wallet...

Juan'er... is still on her way to find me...

He reached out with difficulty to touch the phone on the passenger seat. The moment his fingertips touched the cold plastic casing, an even more intense wave of pain washed over him. Darkness completely engulfed his vision; the last thing he felt was his body lurching forward, his forehead slamming against the steering wheel.

The piercing blare of a horn shattered the summer night.

---

Lin Fan suddenly opened his eyes.

The first thing you notice is the discomfort of the hard wooden chair, and the rough texture of the paper against the book under your arm. Then come the sounds—the rustling of pages, whispers, and distant music from outside the window. Finally, there are the smells: sweat and perfume.

He froze.

My gaze slowly focused. Before me was a pitted wooden desk, on which the character "早" (early) was crookedly carved with a compass.

He slowly raised his hand.

This is a young hand. The fingers are long and slender, the nails are short, and the skin is firm, without the calluses and cracks that come from years of carrying water pipes. On the wrist is a black digital watch, the dial showing: May 8, 2003, 10:23 AM.

On the platform, driving school instructor Lao Chen was writing theoretical questions on the blackboard with his back to the students, the chalk making a squeaking sound.

"So this is how you should fix this problem..."

Lin Fan turned his head slowly.

My deskmate was a tall, thin boy with glasses, secretly reading a copy of "Science Fiction World" under his textbook. The girl in front of me, with her ponytail tied with a blue rubber band, was diligently taking notes. By the window, a boy in a white T-shirt rested his chin on his hand, gazing out the window; sunlight cast a fuzzy golden glow on his profile.

This is……

This is a classroom at the city's Open University.

This was the spring of his twentieth year.

My heart beat steadily in my chest, one beat after another, healthy and strong. There was no pain, no suffocation, only a buzzing sound, almost like tinnitus, echoing in my mind.

"Lin Fan!"

A piece of chalk hit his desk precisely, bounced once, and rolled to the ground.

Old Chen turned around, pushed up his glasses, and looked at him sternly: "What are you daydreaming about? I've gotten to the crucial point!"

All eyes in the class turned to him.

Lin Fan opened his mouth, but his throat was too dry to make a sound. He subconsciously stood up, the wooden chair legs scraping against the ground with a screeching sound.

"I..." His voice was hoarse, "Teacher, I... am not feeling well."

Old Chen frowned, looked at his pale face, and softened his tone: "Should we go to the hospital to get him checked out?"

"I need to go to the restroom."

"Go. Come back soon."

Lin Fan almost staggered out of the classroom. The corridor was empty, with bright incandescent light bulbs shining through. He leaned against the cold tiled wall and walked step by step toward the restroom at the end of the corridor.

He turned on the tap, and icy cold tap water gushed out. He scooped up the water with both hands and splashed it hard on his face.

once.

twice.

He looked up and saw the boy in the mirror looking at him with wet eyes.

Her short hair was disheveled, her eyes were dark from staying up all night, and a few pimples had appeared on her chin. The collar of her white shirt was slightly askew, revealing a slender collarbone. Her eyes still held the clear, youthful brightness that life hadn't worn away, but now that brightness was filled with panic and disbelief.

This is not a dream.

The feel of the water was so real, the coolness of the tiles was so real, the lingering thirst in my throat was so real. And the heart—that healthy, strong, and steady beating heart.

He slowly raised his right hand and pinched the web between his thumb and forefinger of his left hand hard.

pain.

Sharp, distinct pain.

The boy in the mirror made the same expression.

Lin Fan slowly squatted down, leaning against the cold tiled wall, curled up on the cement floor of the bathroom. Sunlight slanted in from the high skylight, cutting a bright patch of light on the floor, with dust swirling in the beams of light.

He remembered the glaring fluorescent lights in the lottery shop.

I recalled my wife Wang Juan's trembling voice on the phone.

I recall the dull pain from the steering wheel pressing against my forehead.

I recall that long, drawn-out horn blast in the darkness.

and then?

That was the end of it.

he died.

Lin Fan, 45, who had won a 6.7 million yuan lottery prize, suffered a sudden heart attack and died in the driver's seat of his used car.

And now... it's 2003.

2003年5月8日，上午10点31分。

He is twenty years old and is learning the theory at the No. 1 Driving School in Gangcheng City.

There were no lottery tickets in my wallet.

He has no wife.

He has no son.

There is no such house with a twelve-year mortgage remaining.

There was no woman named Wang Juan waiting for him to come home.

Lin Fan buried his face in his knees, his shoulders beginning to tremble. At first, it was just a slight tremor, then it grew more and more violent, finally turning into a silent, almost suffocating sob. Hot tears welled up and soaked the knees of his trousers.

He didn't know why he was crying.

Should we cry over the big prize that came too late? Should we cry over the life that ended so abruptly? Or should we cry over the faces we'll never see again?

Or perhaps, they are weeping over this absurd, incomprehensible, re-emerging, endless...twenty-year-old.

I don't know how much time passed, but my legs went numb and my tears dried up.

He slowly stood up, supporting himself against the wall, and walked to the sink, washing his face again. The cold water cleared his muddled mind somewhat. He looked up at himself in the mirror once more.

The boy in the mirror had red and swollen eyes, but his gaze had changed.

As the panic subsided, something deeper settled in his eyes. It was the mark left by forty-five years of life, the weariness from mortgage and car loan payments, the excruciating pain of seeing hope only to lose it in an instant, death... the look in the eyes of someone who has truly experienced death.

He stared into those eyes for a very long time.

Then, with his wet hands, he pulled a one-yuan coin from his pants pocket. The coin was a 1999 edition, with the national emblem facing up.

He placed the coin on the edge of the sink and gently twirled it.

The coin spun, gleaming silver in the sunlight, then slowed down, finally wobbling a few times before tipping to one side.

2003 years.

He went back to 2003.

Lin Fan took a deep breath and then slowly exhaled. He bent down to pick up the coin, held it in his palm, and felt the coolness of the metal seep through his skin.

He stepped out of the restroom; the sunlight in the corridor was somewhat dazzling. From a distant classroom came the sound of Old Chen lecturing, and he could vaguely hear the word "Platinum."

He slowly walked back to the classroom and called out "Report!" at the door.

Old Chen glanced at him and nodded, gesturing for him to go inside.

As he sat back down, his deskmate nudged him with his elbow and whispered, "Are you alright? You look terrible."

Lin Fan shook his head and didn't say anything.

He opened his textbook, but couldn't concentrate on a single word. His fingers unconsciously traced the edges of the pages, the rough texture repeatedly reminding him: this is real.

It was an ordinary, sweltering summer morning in 2003.

He knew that the world was about to undergo a dramatic transformation. The internet bubble was about to burst and then rise again, housing prices were about to begin their crazy climb, and countless opportunities were quietly surging like underground currents.

For example, this year, at a newly opened Sichuan restaurant, he met a girl with a ponytail and dimples when she smiled. Her name was Wang Juan.

Lin Fan closed his eyes.

My heart beat steadily in my chest. This time, it beat very slowly and steadily, like a lurking beast.

When he opened his eyes again, the last trace of panic in them had vanished. In their place was an almost icy clarity, a tranquility that had been tempered by forty-five years of life and death.

He took a ballpoint pen from his pencil case and slowly wrote seven numbers on the blank space of the textbook's title page.

03、12、19、27、35、06、11。

Then he drew a heavy horizontal line under that line of numbers.

Below the line, he wrote down a date: May 15, 2003.

That was the day in his past life when he passed by a lottery shop and casually bought the number that changed everything. It's also the first day he needs to remember in this life.

Outside the window, the cicadas suddenly began to chirp.

Summer has truly arrived.