Volume One Farewell to the Tide of the Past

Chapter One You Have All the Trump Cards

The dorm room number should be 2#407. Evan Ford hadn’t gone out to check yet, but he was pretty sure he remembered correctly.

After spending half a night and the whole morning, he was now actually quite certain that he was back—more precisely, that he had been reborn.

It was just that the whole thing was so unbelievable that his thoughts were inevitably still a bit chaotic and dazed, like facing a scratch-off lottery ticket and not daring to reveal it all at once.

This was an eight-person dorm, with bunk beds and several old desks pushed together in the middle.

Of the seven roommates, five were present. Four of them were playing “Hei Jian” (a card game), the slap of the cards echoing through the room, while the last one stood by with a white enamel mug, watching and occasionally offering some advice.

“Evan Ford, are you awake? Time to get up for lunch.”

Roommate Brian Clark, his face covered in sticky notes, turned his head, blew at them so they fluttered, and called out.

On the upper bunk to the right of the door, Evan Ford was still wrapped in his quilt, lying on his side facing the wall.

The wall, plastered with a Zhang Min poster, had peeling lime and was mottled, covered in all sorts of messy writing—some left by previous students, and some written by Evan Ford himself over the past two years.

He had just searched carefully twice, but still couldn’t find those four characters—永失我爱 (“Forever Lost My Love”). That’s the title of a novel published by Wang Shuo in 1989, which would be made into a movie by Feng Xiaogang a few years later.

On the night of January 19, 1992, eighteen-year-old Evan Ford would write those four characters on the wall, tears streaming down his face in a fit of youthful melodrama.

Back then, in his youthful naivety, he once thought that the first love that ended that day was the love of his life.

Later, he realized just how ignorant and laughable that idea was. Unfortunately, it was already too late. That event led him to make a decision, and that decision changed the course of his entire life...

That’s how life is. The origins of many major events often seem insignificant at the time. And as for “character determines destiny,” it’s really about the stage of character development—many of us make decisions that are far too important before our characters have matured.

Since the words haven’t been written yet, that classmate named Grace Young should still be my girlfriend of two years...

Should I play a trick? Like planting something now, and by the time it’s discovered, it’ll have nothing to do with me.

Thinking about mischief, Evan Ford’s mind suddenly became lively. He sat up, ready to ask his roommates about the exact date and time.

Looking up, he realized there was a thick tear-off calendar hanging right behind the dorm door.

[January 17, 1992, Friday]

Only two days left?! Evan Ford thought, looks like I need to hurry.

A roommate walked over, tore off two pages with a “shrrip,” crumpled them up, tossed them in the trash, and muttered, “Forgot to tear off two days. Gave me a scare at first glance—thought I’d skipped half a day of class.”

[January 19, 1992, Sunday]

Evan Ford froze for a moment, muttering, “Damn, it’s today... Just got reborn and I’m getting dumped.”

Yes, he would get dumped today, because that Student Young had already decided to stay at school, while Evan Ford had not.

“Pfft... What’s wrong? You’ve been lying there all morning without a word, and now that look on your face. You’re not sick, are you?”

Brian Clark still had a handful of cards, his sticky-note-covered face appearing beside the bed, head tilted back, blowing at the notes as he spoke.

Evan Ford reached out and pulled all the sticky notes off his face... faintly familiar, a young face with the aura of the nineties.

Suddenly, everything felt real.

“I’m fine, it’s the weekend. I’m getting up now.”

Evan Ford smiled, started getting dressed—first a white shirt, then a black sweater with two braided patterns, and pants that, as he recalled, were his very first pair of jeans, bought after saving for months, the kind that were a bit faded.

“Good, as long as you’re okay,” Brian Clark turned and said, “You all saw it, right? The sticky notes weren’t my fault. Whatever, let’s take them all off. After this round, we should eat... Watch out for threes, there are a bunch of bombs in this hand, just saying.”

Evan Ford climbed down from the bed, put on his white Warrior sneakers, poured the last bit of water from the chipped metal thermos, and drank it.

No more hot water, so he didn’t bother bringing his washbasin. He slung his towel over his shoulder, grabbed his toothbrush cup, and headed straight to the washroom.

It was already mealtime, so he was the only one in the washroom.

“Pfft.”

He splashed his face again and again with the icy tap water cupped in his hands, the chill seeping into his skin, making him alert and clear-headed.

With water droplets still on his face, Evan Ford walked over to a mirror taped to the wall with clear tape, looked up, and glanced at himself.

The mirror was very old, scratched in many places, with a diagonal crack down the middle that split his whole face in two.