2: Chapter 2 One More Time

Qiao Yichen's last memory lingered in the top-floor suite of the Grand Hyatt Hotel.

The carpet was so soft it barely registered underfoot, making him feel as if he were sinking into a carefully fabricated sense of security.

Outside the floor-to-ceiling windows, the city's nightscape was built up layer by layer with lights and money—dazzling yet indifferent.

The air still held the scent of perfume, alcohol, and lingering ambiguity mixed together.

Lin Wei was lying beneath him.

The flush on her face from the previous second rapidly faded to pallor in an extremely short time, and genuine, undisguised terror appeared in her eyes.

Qiao Yichen opened his mouth then, but no sound came out.

The next second—

Deep within his chest, it felt as if an invisible giant hand had fiercely squeezed him.

It wasn't pain.

It was an explosion.

It was as if something inside him had directly snapped—his heartbeat stopped, his blood lost its direction.

His consciousness was violently dragged backward, torn apart, and hollowed out by an immense force.

He didn't even have time to think about what had happened.

Darkness had already completely swallowed him.

Luxury, lust, death.

This was the final chapter of his thirty-five-year life.

— — — — — — — — — — — — — —

Pain.

So intense it was almost unforgettable.

It felt like someone was holding a steel nail and slowly, precisely hammering it in, starting from his temple.

Qiao Yichen abruptly opened his eyes.

The blinding white light in the office made him squint instinctively, and a sharp, continuous ringing filled his eardrums, causing him discomfort.

His mind was a mess; he felt as if he had just been dragged out of deep water.

His chest was heaving violently. He instinctively raised his hand to press against his heart, but found his arm felt unnaturally heavy, impossible to lift no matter how hard he tried.

As he gradually adjusted, his vision began to focus.

Then, his sense of smell returned: a sour, stale odor mixed with sweat, overnight instant noodles, and cheap coffee flooded his nostrils, causing him to frown almost instinctively.

Qiao Yichen then froze dumbly in place.

This wasn't a hospital.

It was definitely not 'Heaven'.

He was sitting in a chair. First, he slowly straightened his body, then he looked down at what was beneath him.

What met his eyes was a narrow workstation desk. The edges were worn shiny in places.

His own wrist was pressed against the cold plastic desktop, and his fingers still retained the stiffness from typing on a keyboard—no wonder he couldn't lift his arm just now—it was numb.

Click, click, click—

A dense, mechanical sound of keyboard tapping came from all around, relentlessly drumming against his fragile nerves like raindrops.

Qiao Yichen suddenly looked up.

What he saw were two neat rows of rather oppressive gray cubicles.

Pale LED tube lights flickered slightly overhead, illuminating the young yet exhausted faces at each station.

There was no conversation or laughter here now; the atmosphere was extremely heavy.

Almost everyone had their heads bowed over their computer screens.

Seeing this, a sudden thought struck him: this scene was too familiar.

So familiar that his heart abruptly clenched.

His gaze returned to his own spot. He lowered his head and immediately saw the monitor in front of him.

The screen was packed with dense PPT pages.

It listed: User Profile Deconstruction, Dissemination Path Design, Media Mix Plan, Placement Budget Calculation Sheet... The page was flipped back and forth, modified, and the line for Core Strategy had already been deleted and rewritten countless times.

The cursor stopped at the end, blinking silently.

The time in the upper right corner seemed a little glaring.

Friday, March 14, 2025. 3:21 AM.

It was already past three in the morning.

In the lower right corner of the computer screen, the WeChat icon was flashing frantically.

There was one unread message, from a contact name that felt incredibly familiar yet was jarringly conspicuous at this moment.

— —

"Xue'er"

"If you can't finish the proposal, don't come back. I think we need some time to cool off."

Qiao Yichen stared fixedly at those words, his throat tightening slightly.

Images flashed involuntarily in his mind: when she said 'come back,' she meant back to her small apartment, decorated warmly but always missing him.

That place held his pillow, his towel, and the promise he once made to often eat dinner with her—tears involuntarily streamed down his face.

The next moment, a strange yet complete set of memories surged into his brain like a bursting dam, without any chance for buffering.

— —

Qiao Yichen, 25 years old.

Average education, average resume, no background.

Currently employed at Company Name as a marketing planner, mainly responsible for proposal writing, pitch logic, and execution.

Pre-tax monthly salary of ten to twenty thousand—sounds respectable.

But rent was three thousand.

The fixed monthly 'Dating Fund' was also three thousand.

He still owed eighteen thousand on his credit card.

His own bank account balance was only 327.41 yuan.

He had visited the hospital last week. The physical examination report was still lying in his desk drawer. It showed arrhythmia, severe overwork, and recommended immediately stopping high-intensity work for necessary rest.

And at this moment, the entire planning team of over a dozen people had been working overtime for four consecutive days on an integrated marketing proposal for a major client.

And the project leader was his direct supervisor, known for her strictness and professionalism—

Creative Director, Liu Yanran.

Qiao Yichen, or rather, this current twenty-five-year-old Qiao Yichen, half an hour ago, the original owner of this body had collapsed silently at his workstation due to continuous overtime and extreme mental tension, suffering sudden cardiac arrest.

Then, his thirty-five-year-old soul, who had also died once, from a parallel world, occupied the body.

"I... I didn't die?"

He spoke subconsciously, his voice hoarse and dry, barely recognizable even to himself.

Was this rebirth?

From the peak of his previous life, he had plummeted straight back to the bottom of reality.

In his past life, he at least possessed some power, wealth, and a status admired by most people.

But now, all he possessed was: a body on the verge of collapse, and suffocating work.

At that moment, a feeling of absurdity and anger flooded his heart like ice water.

He had fought desperately in his previous life, even sacrificing his life in the end, just to climb halfway up the mountain.

Upon opening his eyes, he was told everything from before was zeroed out, and his starting point now was in the sewer.

Just as he was about to be crushed by this emotion—

Buzz.

It felt like a tuning string deep within his brain was gently plucked.

Then, in the next second, several lines of cold, glowing blue text appeared without warning in the center of his vision.

[Intelligence Module Activated.]

[Intelligence Packet (3/3) Distribution Complete.]

[Next Refresh Time: 29 Days 23 Hours 58 Minutes Later.]

— —

[Intelligence One]

134 meters in front of the East Gate of Hangzhou Peace International Convention and Exhibition Center.

In the crevice beneath the third paving stone west of the pedestal of the stone sculpture 'The Pioneer,' hidden contraband: one 100-gram Au99.9 gold bar, unmarked, with a complex origin.

Current Market Valuation: Approximately 88,000 - 91,000 RMB.

[Intelligence Two]

Your direct supervisor, Creative Director Liu Yanran, is on the verge of emotional collapse due to the double betrayal by her boyfriend and best friend.

She is expected to go alone to 'HM Bar' to drink tomorrow (Saturday) between 22:45 and 23:15.

Warning: A manager from a competing company (who previously failed to court her) has tracked her movements, posing a risk of malicious contact.

Critical Time Node: Around 23:30, near the restroom area.

[Intelligence Three]

Your flatmate, the platform micro-influencer 'Min Min' (Li Min), has discovered several expensive pieces of underwear missing without reason.

Due to your recent abnormal routine and having mistakenly accepted one of her packages, she has unilaterally listed you as the primary suspect.

She is currently secretly gathering 'evidence' and plans to report the matter to the police tomorrow morning.

— —

The text floated silently in his vision.

He didn't move immediately, but carefully read through the intelligence content.

Then he sat quietly in his chair and adjusted his posture.

The cold light reflected from the computer monitor onto his face. Those proposal pages that had almost broken his original self moments ago now seemed distant.

Qiao Yichen first took a deep breath, paused his fingertips over the keyboard for a few seconds, and then typed a few lines.

The Planning Department group chat remained silent.

At this hour of the morning, aside from sporadic 'Received' and 'Modifying,' no one had the energy to chat.

He sent the message.

[Qiao Yichen]: Feeling a bit unwell, going downstairs for some fresh air. Will be back in about ten minutes.

As soon as the message was sent, after a few seconds, Director Liu Yanran's avatar lit up once.

There were no extra words.

Only a simple emoji for a response.

An 'OK'.

Qiao Yichen looked at the emoji and suddenly felt a sense of irony.

In his past life, it was the same: during countless late nights, he would use a phrase like 'I need to handle something,' and then stake his body and life on his work.

He closed the work group chat and saved the current version of the proposal one more time.

He added one more digit after the filename.

V10.1.

This was the first 'work trace' he left for this world.

Even if he didn't return on time after ten minutes, at least people wouldn't question his disappearance while he wasn't working.

After finishing this, he grabbed his jacket and backpack from the back of the chair and stood up.

His legs were still a bit weak, but he could manage to control them now.

He walked cautiously to the back door of the Planning Department, trying not to disturb anyone. After pushing open the glass door, the cold air from the hallway rushed out to meet him.

The icy chill made him instantly much more sober.

After stepping out, the Planning Department, still operating non-stop, was behind him.

And ahead of him was something he absolutely had to verify.

If it was true—

Then his world, starting from this moment, would be completely different.