An off-road vehicle and a taxi collided badly at the intersection. The off-road vehicle was fine, but the people in the taxi looked to be in serious trouble. David Bennett slowed down and pulled over, silently watching through the rearview mirror, contemplating the unpredictability of life. As a half-hearted lay Buddhist, he silently recited “Namo Kṣitigarbha Bodhisattva of Great Vows” more than a dozen times, praying for the people in both cars, and also calming his own mind.

When he got home, perhaps because of witnessing the accident, David Bennett didn’t feel sleepy at all. He helped Shawn Harris cover up with a towel blanket, tiptoed to close the bedroom door, quickly washed up, then leaned on the sofa, turned on the TV, pressed mute, and quietly watched the images on the screen change in silence.

“Buzz”—the ringing in his ears started again.

David Bennett suddenly felt he was in a strange state. All his bodily sensations seemed to recede like a tide back into his body. The TV images gradually slowed down; every mouth movement and gesture of the people on screen looked like it was in slow motion, ten times slower than normal. The picture gradually turned black and white, and then everything in front of him seemed to lower in resolution, becoming blurry. He felt as if he floated a little, then floated again, and then actually started to float.

Chapter 0002: 48 Days Until the College Entrance Exam

It felt like he had just had the best sleep in a long time.

His body was warm—this was the feeling of sunlight shining on him.

“Sunlight? What time is it now?”

David Bennett’s mind suddenly became clear, but strangely, his body didn’t seem to obey his commands. His brain sent instructions over and over, and after many attempts, his hands and legs finally felt connected to his brain. The sensation was odd, but very real.

“Huh? What kind of sleeping position is this?”

Did I fall asleep sitting on the sofa? Did Shawn help me to bed? No, why does it feel like I’m lying on a desk?

Open your eyes! Open your eyes! Why can’t I open my eyes?

There was sound now.

It was noisy, coming closer from afar—the sound of a group of people going up the stairs, doors opening, desks and chairs bumping, a jumble of conversations that couldn’t be made out… After a door opened, everything suddenly went quiet, as if rehearsed.

David Bennett kept trying to control his body, really curious about where he was now.

A middle-aged woman’s voice reached David Bennett’s ears.

“Class, let’s begin! Everyone open the 23rd set of practice questions, Huanggang Simulation (3)…”

The sound of pages flipping filled the room. Someone behind him whispered, “Hey, did you do it? I didn’t. Tell me the answers later.”

“Pa”—someone on his right patted David Bennett on the shoulder. “Don’t sleep, class is starting.”

The middle-aged woman’s voice sounded again, “Start from question one. Ian Harris, you begin, then go down the row.” She paused, then spoke more sternly: “Those still lying down, hurry up and sit up.”

The person on the right nudged David Bennett again, and it was as if he’d suddenly broken free from a pressure point—he sat up abruptly.

In front of him was a classroom, both unfamiliar and familiar. The woman standing at the podium should be Ms. Brooks, yes, Brooks, the geography teacher.

The person who just patted him—Dylan Gordon!

Why am I here? Am I dreaming? David Bennett pinched himself hard—ouch! Pinched again—ouch!

Dylan Gordon looked at David Bennett as if he were an idiot and asked, “What’s wrong with you? Did you spend the night at Big Eyes again?”

Big Eyes? David Bennett remembered that was the name of an internet café he frequented in his senior year of high school.

Is this my old senior year classroom?

David Bennett suddenly noticed, in the upper left corner of the blackboard in front, a few words were written. The smaller characters read: “Days until the college entrance exam,” and the big characters said, “48 days!!!”

One by one, classmates stood up, reading out questions and answers from their test papers—monsoons, ocean currents, the northern hemisphere…

David Bennett sat absentmindedly, staring at the geography book he’d flipped open at random, and stayed that way until the lunch bell rang.

The classroom gradually emptied, until only David Bennett was left. He picked up a small mirror a female classmate had left on the desk. The reflection was indeed himself, only much younger. He rolled up his left sleeve—there was no scar on his wrist from the burn he got learning to cook after getting married.

His physical sensations and train of thought were crystal clear; David Bennett was sure he wasn’t dreaming. If this wasn’t a dream, then there was only one explanation for everything in front of him: his soul had returned to 2001, to his senior year of high school, with 48 days left until the college entrance exam.

This is bad! Only 48 days until the exam. Two months earlier or later would be fine, but now, like this, how can I take the test? With what? What if I do badly?

Better go home for lunch first.

When he got to the bike shed, David Bennett suddenly hesitated. He found his bike key in his pocket, but couldn’t remember what his bike looked like. Luckily, many students had already left. Comparing with his vague memories, he found his bike on the fourth try.

David Bennett’s home was a single-story house with its own yard, over 140 square meters, with a small vegetable garden in front. Because both his parents had been laid off, he remembered that a few months after he started college, his family sold the house and moved into a place just over 40 square meters, using the money from the sale to pay for his college tuition.