Chapter One: Rebirth

Sitting in the driver’s seat of a white Santara 87, Lin Lang still felt as if he hadn’t quite recovered from the shock. The familiar streets and the dim yellow of the streetlights—it was all too much to believe. He had actually been reborn!

It wasn’t until a rapid tapping came at his window that he snapped out of his daze.

“Hey, buddy, what kind of driving is that? I was stopped perfectly at the red light, and you just rammed into me like that?”

Following the voice, Lin Lang looked out and saw a man around thirty, dressed in a black leather jacket, glaring at him with annoyance.

Only then did Lin Lang realize he’d rear-ended someone. And right at a red light, no less! Two Santaras, one black and one white, now sat bumper to bumper across the crosswalk. Passersby gawked in disbelief; a rear-end accident at a red light was a first for everyone.

Lin Lang gave a self-deprecating laugh. After three or four decades of driving, his first rear-end collision would happen like this.

He reached into his pocket and pulled out a wad of hundred-yuan bills, maybe a dozen or so in all. Opening the car door, he stepped out, clasped the young man’s hands, and pressed the money into them. “Brother, I’m in a hurry. The accident’s entirely my fault. Why don’t we just settle it privately?”

The young man in the leather jacket stared, dumbfounded, at the stack of bills—at least fifteen hundred. His own Santara had barely been scratched; five hundred would have been more than enough. Had he run into a rich man or a fool? Either way, he happily agreed to settle.

...

Driving along the freshly paved, coal-black asphalt in QS County, Lin Lang was both exhilarated and emotional—his eyes even shimmered with tears.

Though this Santara was far less comfortable than his beloved Mercedes, Lin Lang was still overjoyed.

Because this was his first car.

And it meant that soon, he would see his precious son—the one he had yearned for day and night.

In his previous life, he had been obsessed with making money, working himself to the bone. He believed that giving his son the best food and clothes, a luxurious home, and the finest schools was the greatest education and the happiest childhood possible.

And then, one day, his son died instantly in a street race, colliding with another car.

Lin Lang experienced the unbearable pain of losing his only child in middle age.

Later, leafing through his son’s childhood diary, he realized just how wrong his approach to parenting had been...

Guiding the white Santara into the family garage at the Warmth Gardens Residence, Lin Lang then walked toward his apartment building’s entrance.

He glanced at his Huawei phone.

December 31, 2011.

By his calculation, his son, Lin Nan, was now twelve—and would turn thirteen tomorrow.

He remembered vividly the diary entry from when Lin Nan turned thirteen.

January 1, 2012. Clear skies.

Today is my thirteenth birthday. The book says thirteen is the age of flowers, but instead, Dad and Mom scolded me harshly again today because I did poorly on the monthly exam. Since coming to the county for middle school, each time the test results come out, my heart turns cold. Walking home is always nerve-wracking. Why is there such an annoying subject as English in the world? I remember that back in seventh and eighth grade, Dad and Mom never mentioned my test scores on my birthday. But now in ninth grade, with the high school entrance exam looming, there’s no more “immunity” on my birthday! I really want to do well on my exams, but I just hate, hate, hate English!

...

Years later, after Lin Lang emerged from the sorrow of losing his son, he resolutely became an educator.

He had seen so many brilliant children with extraordinary talent in mathematics, physics, and chemistry, yet completely at a loss when it came to English.

Only then did Lin Lang understand: language learning requires talent. Foreign languages have destroyed the futures of countless potential stars in the sciences, who might have gone much further on their own paths.

He recalled that when Lin Nan was a child, he could perform three-digit mental arithmetic in seconds. He might not match the world’s top minds, but “genius” was not an exaggeration.

In primary school in their small town, Lin Nan always ranked near the top, especially since his classmates were all equally weak in English. But as Lin Lang’s business prospered and they moved to QS County, Lin Nan transferred to the county’s Experimental Middle School.

That’s when Lin Nan’s academic troubles began.

At first, his math grades remained among the best. Then came physics in eighth grade, chemistry in ninth—both went well, since they were sciences too. But in English, he lagged at the bottom of the class—barely passing, far behind his peers, many of whom had attended years of “New Oriental” English classes in elementary school.

Lin Lang spent a fortune enrolling his son in English tutoring after tutoring, but nothing helped.

He finally grasped a crucial truth: interest is always the best teacher for a child.

Every weekend, Lin Nan’s schedule was packed with English classes. The heavy pressure backfired, making him resent not just English, but even learning itself.

Gradually, Lin Nan came to hate English, even to the point of aversion, unable to muster any interest at all.

In that precious diary, Lin Lang discovered his son’s true feelings. As parents, they had never truly entered his inner world.

In old age, Lin Lang saw in the neat handwriting of those diary entries daggers stabbing at his heart.

...

Stepping into the elevator, watching the numbers—1, 2, 3, 4—light up in sequence, Lin Lang swore to himself:

As a father once more, this time,
He would ensure his son had the happiest, most beautiful childhood,
Travel the most comfortable, most unforgettable road to maturity,
And become the brightest star beneath the night sky!

“Ding!”

The numbers stopped at “8.” Lin Lang steadied his emotions and walked calmly to apartment 803.

Upon opening the door, he saw mother and son sitting silently on the living room sofa.

No need to ask—he knew at once that Lin Nan had done poorly on the monthly exam again, and the two were “cooling off” and reflecting.

His wife, Ye Xinlan, wore an expression of stern disappointment, pouting slightly. Her long, jet-black hair framed a face untouched by age, though she was just past thirty.

Lin Lang remembered vividly how, when she learned of their son’s death, her hair turned white overnight, her aging body growing even frailer.

He recalled a passage from the diary, where his wife once told their son, “Son, your father is good in every way, except he lacks a little romance.”

Looking at his wife’s youthful face once more, Lin Lang silently made a second vow: In this life, I will make you the happiest woman in the world.

Turning to his son, Lin Lang instantly saw where he’d gone wrong in his parenting.

Lin Nan sat curled up on the sofa, head bowed low, not moving—he didn’t even (or didn’t dare to) look up when he heard his father come home.

Clearly, in Lin Nan’s young mind, both parents were stern—so strict that neither could be his shield when he made a mistake.

It is said that mothers are loving and fathers strict, but in this family, both father and mother were strict.

Looking at Lin Nan’s young, anxious face, Lin Lang saw none of the vibrancy or carefree joy a child should have. The pressure of study—more precisely, the pressure from his parents—had buried those qualities deep within.

People talk about youthful recklessness.

As an educator later in life, Lin Lang understood that the one thing every child needs is confidence. In every class, there are top students and those who struggle; some excel at sports, others at singing. But confidence should not belong only to those who are “good” at something, while those who “fall behind” are left gloomy and withdrawn.

During adolescence, when children are most malleable, confidence must be cultivated.

With that in mind, Lin Lang walked over, gently ruffled Lin Nan’s hair, and, holding back his own emotions, said in a cheerful tone, “Son, go take a bath and get to bed early. Tomorrow is your thirteenth birthday. Dad will take you out to have some fun!”

Instantly, Lin Nan’s gloomy face lit up with a radiant smile. The word “fun” grabbed his heart, and all the clouds vanished in an instant.

That’s what children are like—joy and sorrow, all in a moment.

Ye Xinlan said nothing, but looked at her husband with surprise. After more than a decade together, he suddenly seemed both young and mature.

A woman’s intuition is truly extraordinary; still, she could never have imagined that within her husband’s “youthful” body was a “mature” soul.

After everyone had showered, Lin Lang kindly tucked his son into bed, turned off the lights, and went back to his own room.

There, he gently pulled Ye Xinlan into his arms, holding her close as they drifted off to sleep.

Ye Xinlan found it odd. Was her “wooden” husband finally enlightened?

In the past, after a long day at work, Lin Lang would quickly fall asleep alone. After all these years, why was he holding her now?

Still, his embrace felt warm and reassuring.

Soon, Ye Xinlan drifted into a dream in which Lin Nan miraculously ranked first in the school, attended a prestigious university, found a beautiful and virtuous girlfriend, achieved career success, started a family, and she even held a darling grandson and granddaughter in her arms...

In the haze of sleep, she seemed to hear Lin Lang whisper in her ear, “Don’t worry, Xinlan. I’ll teach Nannan well and help him become the best child in the world!”

If only such a future could come true—how wonderful that would be.