Back home, Qin Sheng complained loudly that she reeked and needed a shower.
“The shampoo and body wash are over there. You can just use Auntie’s face wash…”
“Got it, got it. Now scram. Or…” Qin Sheng suddenly hooked a finger into the collar of her shirt, tugging it down to reveal a hint of black fabric. Her expression dripped with flirtation.
“Do you want to shower with me?”
That soft, sultry figure…
“If you’re coming in, make it quick while no one’s paying attention. I won’t make a sound. If they ask, I’ll just say you stepped out.”
“Get lost!”
Sure, a big fancy house might’ve had soundproof walls, but in a humble rental like this?
One creak in the bathroom, and anyone sitting in the living room would know exactly what was going on. Was she trying to die?
Wait a sec—why am I even thinking, “It’d be fine if it were a big fancy house”?!
Frustrated, Shen Xiyan turned and left.
Qin Sheng closed the tiny bathroom door behind her and slowly peeled off her clothes.
Her pale skin was smooth and radiant—seventeen years old, blooming with youthful vitality.
Her figure was stunning, though she usually dressed modestly enough that no one would notice. That’s probably why Shen Xiyan always ended up biting her like she was a soft, irresistible dumpling.
She glanced at the towel rack—two towels were still damp and clung to the scent of steam. She wasn’t in a hurry to shower. Instead, she picked up Shen Xiyan’s towel.
It had been so long since she’d smelled something this comforting.
She pressed her cheek to the towel, inhaling gently. Then, hugging it to her chest, her skin flushed red as her heartbeat quickened.
With her eyes closed, it almost felt like she was holding him—skin to skin, heart to heart.
She couldn’t take it anymore.
They say women are made of water, and Qin Sheng’s longing for Shen Xiyan was overflowing, trickling from her fingers with a warm ache.
Meanwhile, Shen Xiyan lay on the couch, tuning out the sound of running water in the bathroom. His focus was laser-sharp.
While Qin Sheng was showering, he managed to watch the entire evening news broadcast.
He’d been reborn—might as well do something meaningful with it.
Sure, Qin Sheng had taken care of Auntie’s medical bills, but that kind of favor came with strings. The sooner he paid her back, the better.
Otherwise, she’d hold it over his head till college graduation, and he knew he didn’t have that much stamina.
The problem?
He didn’t remember the lottery numbers. And even if he did, there was no guarantee they’d still work.
He recalled a joke he once heard:
Mortal: Master, is it possible to win five million in the lottery?
Taoist: Of course.
Mortal: Then why haven’t I won anything after buying tickets for years?
Taoist: Let’s play a game. Rock, paper, scissors—you know how, right?
Mortal: Yeah!
Taoist: One round, two bucks. You win, I give you five million. You lose, just give me two.
Mortal: Sounds like a steal! Let’s go!
Taoist: You go first.
Mortal: …
So, what else could make money?
In other rebirth novels, the protagonist usually steals the spotlight from the future chosen ones, punches billionaires in the face, and builds a company like it’s Lego.
But reality wasn’t so easy. Timing, location, luck—all of it mattered. Who knew how much sweat and strategy others had put in behind the scenes?
None of that helped with his current dilemma.
He could try writing web novels. That didn’t require an age limit, and he had read some of the future’s bestsellers. But just because a great author could make it big didn’t mean he could.
“Ughhh! I’m going to explode!”
Shen Xiyan rolled around on the couch like a grumpy toddler.
Worst-case scenario, he could become a fortune teller. He still remembered the rough timelines of big world events—like when the Queen of England would retire—but how did you monetize that?
So annoying…
He’d been reborn, yet when it came to actually turning that into cash, he was drawing a complete blank. Everything from ten years ago was a blur.
The only path left?
The college entrance exam.
People loved to criticize “exam-oriented education,” but let’s face it—it was the only real ladder for kids without money or connections.
With what he already knew, acing the science track would be a breeze. Liberal arts?
Not worth it—being reborn didn’t give him any edge there. He’d still have to start memorizing from scratch.
“Wait! I might not remember the exact questions, but I do remember the essay topics. One ‘Dream of the Red Chamber’ prompt had everyone in a daze…”
Essay prediction was big business. Parents would pay tens of thousands for accurate tips. But who would believe him?
Another plan, scrapped.
Was he seriously going to have to wait until after college to earn money?
Or ask Auntie for help?
Last time, she didn’t bother with treatment because it was already late-stage. This time, they’d caught it early, so maybe his parents would…
No! Absolutely not.
Auntie had cut ties with her family just to adopt them. Asking her to go crawling back for money would be worse than asking Qin Sheng.
He couldn’t bear to see Auntie bow her head like that.
What about betting on the World Cup?
He remembered the final score: 7–1.
Any gambling addict would’ve struck gold.
But betting wasn’t protected. You had to go through shady platforms. What if they just vanished with your money?
As for “trustworthy” gambling sites…
Please. How “trustworthy” could a gambling site even be?
7:1 odds could rake in millions, sure—but good luck cashing it out.
As he wrapped up the news, Shen Xiyan suddenly understood the phrase, “A scholar is the most useless profession.”
If only he’d been a programmer in his past life—at least then, he could pretend to be a prodigy now.
“Screw it. I’ll just try submitting something to a magazine. Better than nothing,” he muttered, staring at the ceiling, completely stumped on what else a teenager could actually do.
At least in Japan, high schoolers could work at convenience stores.
But here?
What boss would hire a minor?
***
Qin Sheng finally emerged from the bathroom, hair damp and cascading over her shoulders, wrapped in a fluffy new bathrobe.
Shen Xiyan couldn’t understand why she insisted on wearing a bathrobe at home.
She swayed over to the couch, fingers trailing along her pale neck, flashing a flirty smile with pruney fingertips.
“All done?”
“Mhm.”
“Took you long enough.” Shen Xiyan glanced at her. Her cheeks were flushed, and her eyes sparkled with mischief.
“Girls always take this long to shower…” she replied sweetly, settling beside him.
“Xiyan, blow-dry my hair for me~”
“You’re not going to class tomorrow. Just let it air dry. Blow dryers are bad for your hair.”
“Hmph! You just don’t want to help.”
“Exactly. So why even ask?” he said bluntly.
“I wasn’t gonna ask for free,” Qin Sheng pouted.
“I was gonna give you something nice to look at…”
She tugged gently at the edges of her robe and slowly peeled it open.
First came the smooth curve of her neck, then the delicate collarbones, then the tantalizing rise of—
Shen Xiyan’s eyes shifted from a glance to a stare. He couldn’t stop himself.
And then—Qin Sheng yanked the robe wide open with a dramatic flourish.
Shen Xiyan clenched his jaw and slammed his eyes shut.
Qin Sheng burst into laughter.
The robe hit the floor—revealing not bare skin, but a full set of SpongeBob pajamas underneath.
Ironically, Qin Sheng spent thousands on lingerie, but when it came to sleepwear, she grabbed whatever she found at a street stall.
She claimed to like cutesy styles, but Shen Xiyan knew the truth—she didn’t want to seem out of place around Auntie and Wenwen.
Wearing silky, expensive sleepwear in a modest little home like this felt too jarring—too fake.
That’s why the bathrobe felt so out of place too. It belonged in a mansion with a marble tub, not in their cramped rental.
Shen Xiyan glared at her.
“Can you please be serious for once? You bought that robe just to tease me?”
“It’s fun! Why so uptight?” Qin Sheng scooped up the robe and stretched lazily.
“Time for bed~ It’s my first time sleeping in a boy’s room. I’m kind of excited.”
Shen Xiyan: …
Qin Sheng bounced into his bedroom and looked around. It was exactly like she remembered—bare and minimal.
Because of his family’s situation, there was barely anything that truly belonged to him.
Unable to resist, she threw herself onto his bed, rolling around twice before snuggling into the soft blanket and bringing it to her nose for a sniff.
Auntie had just changed the bedding, so all she could smell was laundry detergent—not Shen Xiyan’s unique scent. She looked a little disappointed.
“Auntie’s too diligent, honestly…”
Now alone in the room, her courage began to grow. She climbed off the bed and began snooping around like she was hunting for treasure.
His chair. His notes. His water cup. His slippers. Even his trash bin…
Just then, the door creaked open. Shen Xiyan stepped in, clearly “checking in” because he didn’t trust her one bit—and saw her digging through his trash.
His eyebrow twitched. Hard.
“…What are you doing?”
“…Looking for your son.”
“QIN SHENG!!!”