A Literary Life Starting from the First Year of High School

The sound of chalk scraping across the blackboard was enough to make your teeth ache.

The ceiling fan overhead creaked under its strain, trying to push the September afternoon heat downwards. The air was thick with the smell of cheap chalk dust and the sweaty odor of boys returning from playing ball.

Lin Shubai sat in the third-to-last row of the classroom, by the window, his face almost completely obscured by the pile of books on his desk. He tilted his head, looking at the middle-aged man on the podium who was lecturing animatedly.

"Students, look at the blackboard!"

The Chinese teacher, Mr. Chen, banged the blackboard eraser hard on the desk, making the water cups of the girls in the front row shake.

"This piece, 'Autumn Elegy,' is a representative work of the renowned contemporary writer Zhao Mingcheng. Pay close attention to the line, 'The autumn wind sweeps through the treetops, carrying away yellow leaves, leaving behind sorrow.' The choice of words and the imagery vividly capture the desolation of autumn!"

Lin Shubai lowered his eyes, looking at the open Chinese textbook. The page was printed with "Autumn Elegy," the words densely packed, accompanied by a detailed analysis.

This is what language arts lessons were like in the world in 2010.

The pages were a bit yellowed, and the edges were rough. He rubbed the paper with his finger; it felt rough.

For three days now, the memories of a 28-year-old veteran online writer and a 16-year-old high school freshman have completely merged.

This world has the same technology tree as the previous one. The Nokia 5230 is still a luxury among students, and the internet cafe on the street corner still has World of Warcraft posters on it.

The entertainment industry was the only exception; there were no Lu Xun or Lao She, no Jin Yong or Gu Long, no Harry Potter, no Lord of the Rings. All those things he'd read to death before were nowhere to be found here.

"Ring...ring...ring"

Lin Shubai seemed oblivious to the ringing of the bell, remaining in the same position as before, lost in thought.

"Lin Shubai!"

Someone patted his arm.

"Lin Shubai, get out of class is over!"

He snapped out of his reverie and saw Su Wan standing nearby. Her eyes were crinkled as she stared at him.

"What are you daydreaming about? I've called you several times."

"It's nothing, let's go, school's over."

Su Wan picked up her schoolbag with her right hand and slung it over her shoulder with a clean and efficient motion.

"Let's go."

The two followed the flow of people out of the classroom. The September sun was still scorching, making the corridor tiles scalding hot.

Lin Shubai squinted at the teaching building in front of him, built in the 1990s. The walls were peeling off in patches, and ivy was growing wildly in the corners.

Su Wan walked ahead, her ponytail swaying gently with her steps, and a small patch of her white school uniform shirt was soaked with sweat.

The school gate was packed with students, and bicycle bells rang all around.

In Shanghai in 2010, the World Expo had just ended, and the city was still immersed in an atmosphere of excitement and anticipation. Shops along the street hung banners that read "World Expo souvenirs on sale," and a few students were gathered in front of a newsstand reading "Story Club."

The bus swayed and rattled as it approached, its front panel displaying a large poster of the Nokia N8 with the slogan "Connecting the World."

Lin Shubai and Su Wan squeezed into the car, which was filled with the smell of sweat mixed with someone's perfume.

The scenery outside the car window gradually changed from high-rise buildings to low-rise houses, and then to large construction sites and newly built residential buildings.

"Look over there," Su Wan pointed out the window, "they're building a subway. I heard it'll be open the year after next, which will make getting to the city center much more convenient."

Lin Shubai nodded. He knew, of course, that the subway line would open in two years, halving the commute time between the suburbs and the city. But for now, he and Su Wan still had to take the bus.

After seven stops, the two got off at an old residential area on the outskirts of the city.

Inside the security booth at the entrance of the residential compound, a radio was playing Teresa Teng's "The Moon Represents My Heart," the sweet female voice flowing through the air.

Several elderly people sat under the shade of a tree playing chess. Next to the Chu River and Han Border, there were enamel cups with the words "Advanced Worker" printed in red on the cups.

He and Su Wan lived in the same neighborhood and grew up together; they were childhood sweethearts.

With her schoolbag casually slung over her shoulder, Su Wan walked to her floor, stepped onto the stairs, and turned back to nod at Lin Shubai, who was still on the stairs.

Su Wan: "Hey, Lin Shubai, I've arrived. You can leave now." As she spoke, she even waved her hand like an empress in a TV drama.

Perhaps influenced by the original owner's memories after they merged, Lin Shubai subconsciously said, "Go back and do your homework early, so you don't have to go around copying other people's homework tomorrow."

"I know, I know, you're even more nagging than my mom!" Su Wan said, making a face at him before slamming the door shut.

Lin Shubai shook his head helplessly.

He lived on the sixth floor, above Su Wan.

The key was inserted into the lock, and the door opened.

"You're back?" His mother, Wang Xiulan's voice came from the kitchen, accompanied by the sizzling sound of oil in the pan and the aroma of scallions.

"Hmm." Lin Shubai changed his shoes, his gaze sweeping across the living room. An old-fashioned fabric sofa, his father's thermos and his mother's lesson preparation notes on the coffee table. A family photo hung on the wall.

"Go wash your hands, dinner will be ready soon." Wang Xiulan poked her head out. The thirty-eight-year-old woman had fine lines on her face, but her smile was gentle. She was wearing a faded apron and holding a spatula in her hand.

Lin Shubai walked into the bathroom. The young man in the mirror was handsome and refined, but his eyes revealed a maturity beyond his years. He turned on the tap, and the cold water washed over his hands, washing away the day's heat.

On the sink sat a bar of Shanghai-brand sulfur soap, next to his father's razor, the blade rusted.

"Old Lin, your son is back, get up and eat!" Wang Xiulan shouted, raising her voice eight octaves.

The creaking of the sofa springs came from the living room, followed by the father, Lin Jianguo's, slightly hoarse reply: "I know, I know."

Lin Shubai dried his hands and came out. His father was rubbing his eyes as he sat up from the sofa.

This is his home now.

My father, Lin Jianguo, is an ordinary employee of a state-owned enterprise in Shanghai. He has a stable job with decent benefits. He works from nine to five every day, occasionally working overtime. His biggest hobby is watching the news and weather forecast after dinner.

The mother, Wang Xiulan, is 38 years old and a primary school Chinese teacher. Perhaps due to the influence of being a teacher for more than ten years, she exudes an air of "authority".

Perhaps because he grew up in an orphanage in his previous life, Lin Shubai cherishes the family ties in this life even more. The feeling of having someone waiting for him and caring for him when he comes home from get off work is something he longed for but never had in his previous life.

"Don't worry, now that I've taken over your body, I'll take good care of your parents," Lin Shubai said silently to himself.

This is both a promise to the original owner and an expectation for oneself.

Wang Xiulan brought out the dishes: a plate of scrambled eggs with tomatoes, a plate of stir-fried shredded pork with pickled vegetables, and a bowl of seaweed and egg drop soup. "Didn't you all get assigned seats again today? Are your tablemates getting along well?"

"My deskmate is still Su Wan, no change." Lin Shubai picked up his chopsticks.

"You're the daughter of the Su family, right? That's great. Having an acquaintance as a classmate means you can look out for each other." Wang Xiulan served Lin Shubai a bowl of rice.

"Mm." Lin Shubai nodded.

Su Wan's father was a colleague of Wang Xiulan and was also a primary school teacher, except that Su Wan's father taught mathematics.

The family of three sat around the dining table, the dim light casting long shadows.

The sound of my neighbor's television drifted in from outside the window; it was the opening theme of the evening news program. In the distance, the lights on the construction site cranes flickered.

This was dinner time for an ordinary working-class family on the outskirts of Shanghai in 2010. There weren't many dishes, but they were quite warming.

After finishing his meal, Lin Shubai was about to return to his room when Lin Jianguo's voice came from the sofa.

"Shubai, I bought you a watch as a gift for getting into high school. I've seen a lot of students wearing these. Why don't you try it on and see if you like it?"

Lin Shubai paused for a moment, then smiled and said, "I understand, thank you, Dad."

Lin Shubai returned to his room.

The room was small, about ten square meters, with a single bed, a desk, and a wardrobe. On the desk was a second-hand desktop computer with a bulky CRT monitor that made a buzzing electrical sound when turned on.

At this moment, a black box on the computer desk caught Lin Shubai's attention. This must be the watch that Lin Jianguo bought for him.

He opened the box, and inside lay a black Casio W-800H.

Just as Lin Shubai's hand touched the watch.

"drop"

A crisp notification sound suddenly rang in his mind. His habit of writing web novels in his past life made him realize instantly: the cheat system had arrived?!

【Trigger Keywords】

[Gift + Watch]

【The Gift of the Magi (O. Henry)】

Just then, the complete text of "The Gift of the Magi" suddenly flooded into Lin Shubai's mind, word by word, crystal clear, as if it were engraved in his memory.

It's not a blurry fragment, but a complete storyline, nuanced character portrayals, and that classic ending line—"Of all those who give gifts, these two are the wisest. Of all those who receive gifts, they are also the wisest." Even the O. Henry-esque plot twist is clearly visible.

Lin Shubai suddenly opened his eyes wide, his heart pounding violently.

His fingers trembled as he felt the words flowing through his mind. This was not a dream; it was real, a literary treasure from his past life.

At this moment, it belongs to him alone.

Outside the window, the September evening breeze finally brought a touch of coolness, causing the curtains to sway gently. In the distance, neon lights lit up one by one, and the sky glowed with an orange-red light.

Lin Shubai took a deep breath, and the corners of his mouth slowly turned up.

He knew that from this moment on, everything would be different.

This parallel world is about to witness an unprecedented literary storm.