He was in a hospital ward, a standard, old-fashioned room with four beds. The girl lay on the innermost one, sleeping sweetly.

A pristine white bandage was wrapped around her forehead, beneath which her eyes were softly closed. Her long, curled eyelashes possessed an indescribable elegance and charm.

The girl was beautiful; her cheeks were fair, luminous, and translucent, her skin flawless, so delicate it seemed a mere touch could mar it. The only blight on this perfect picture was the white gauze wrapped around her head, a sight that would surely break anyone’s heart.

Normally, seeing such a stunning young woman would have delighted Zhang Yang, perhaps even prompting him to approach and chat, hoping for a chance to know her better. But at this moment, he was in no mood for such things.

He didn't know why he was here, or why he, like the girl, was bandaged—on his head, stomach, and leg, with two injuries on his arm. Thankfully, nothing seemed to involve bone or tendon.

Simply put: he didn't know who he was right now.

When he first awoke, he happened to see the girl looking into a mirror and caught sight of himself in the reflection. It was absolutely an unfamiliar face—a young man, perhaps eighteen or nineteen, looking callow yet full of vigor. But he had graduated from university over a decade ago.

The person in the mirror was not him at all. The moment he saw the reflection, he simply froze there.

Zhang Yang remembered that he was a professor of Traditional Chinese Medicine at China’s most prestigious medical university, Vice President of the affiliated hospital, and a Chief Physician. Reaching such heights in his early thirties meant he was undeniably a favorite of fortune.

What Zhang Yang was proudest of was using his ancestral needling techniques to save numerous lives and unravel countless difficult and rare diseases, making him the undisputed most renowned TCM physician in the entire hospital.

Their hospital ranked among the top three in the nation and held considerable international renown. The TCM department Zhang Yang led was number one in the country and globally recognized. His status in such an institution was proof enough of his ability.

Yet, he was not in his hospital now. This girl was not his patient. He didn’t even know where this place was, or why this beautiful girl had been guarding him, the first person he saw upon opening his eyes—and who, upon seeing him awake, had sweetly called his name before collapsing onto her bed to sleep.

Even in her sleep, the girl faced him.

“Where is this? How did I end up like this?”

Zhang Yang’s head began to throb again, a searing pain. He tightly cradled his head, gripping his hair with force.

His thoughts were still fragmented. Beyond his identity, he could recall little else. He desperately tried to retrieve those memories, but the more he strained, the more elusive they became. This desperate need for recollection, the inability to grasp it, nearly drove him mad.

Crack!

The mirror fell to the floor. It was a small cosmetic mirror typically kept by young girls, and it shattered instantly upon impact.

“Zhang Yang, what’s wrong?”

The sound of the mirror startled the girl, who had been dozing opposite him. She woke instantly, grasping Zhang Yang’s hand with anxious alarm etched across her face.

Zhang Yang stared, and a flood of memories raced through his mind.

He remembered now. He had recently been invited abroad to treat a famous tycoon for a delicate ailment. After the treatment concluded, the tycoon generously invited him to stay and enjoy the locale for a week. Today was the day he was supposed to return home.

A master physician like him would, of course, travel first-class.

He recalled a flight attendant on the domestic airline who had kept exchanging flirtatious glances with him, piquing his interest. He’d thought about chatting with her further after landing, perhaps discussing the meaning of life over drinks at a five-star hotel.

Unfortunately, before the plane even landed, he had encountered the accident.

Plane crash.

At those two words, Zhang Yang shuddered violently. He finally remembered everything. The plane he was on had gone down, disintegrating upon emergency landing in the sea. In that final moment of breakup, he felt completely enveloped by a wave of intense heat, and everything after that was gone.

A plane disintegrating mid-air, a blast of heat—Zhang Yang, even if he were just an ordinary person, knew survival in such a disaster was impossible.

“Zhang Yang, don’t scare me! Doctor, call the doctor quickly!”

Seeing Zhang Yang staring blankly, a look of extreme terror involuntarily surfacing in his eyes, the girl broke down crying from fright.

Fortunately, she remembered they were in a hospital. She rushed out, her sobbing voice calling for the doctors outside. It was daytime, and many physicians were on duty.

In less than two minutes, a doctor in a white coat entered, followed by a nurse.

Zhang Yang mechanically allowed the doctor to examine him repeatedly, his mind still stuck on that moment of the crash. The shock was so profound that he hadn't recovered yet.

“He’s fine, just overly startled. I suggest a comprehensive follow-up scan of the head later.”

The doctor examined Zhang Yang’s head thoroughly before nodding. Aside from the daze, all vital signs appeared quite good.

“Thank you, Doctor. We’ll arrange the scan this afternoon once the money comes in!”

The girl gratefully saw them off and returned, sitting beside Zhang Yang and watching him with palpable nervousness.

Slowly, after an indeterminate time, Zhang Yang finally snapped back to reality. He picked up a shard of the broken mirror from the floor and took a careful look at himself again.

Transmigration? This idea, completely foreign to him before, suddenly surfaced.

No, not transmigration; it was crossing over. In precise terms, he had time-traveled. These concepts, usually irrelevant to him, now slammed into his consciousness.

Just then, Zhang Yang noticed the electronic watch on the young nurse’s wrist. It clearly displayed the date: May 3rd, 1998. The day his plane crashed was December 2012.

Zhang Yang was indeed a master TCM physician, but he also loved new things. He had spent time reading countless web novels online and had even achieved the status of an "Alliance Lord" in many of them—a designation earned by donating significant funds. Having treated many wealthy individuals, he had never worried about money.

Strictly speaking, Zhang Yang’s former life was extremely comfortable: his bank deposits reached eight figures, he owned several properties, and he possessed no fewer than five luxury cars—the epitome of a prime bachelor.

But he wasn't reading a book now. He discreetly pinched himself; this reality was tangible. It wasn't until the pretty girl called him for the third time that Zhang Yang was forced to accept the truth.

He had crossed over. He had truly time-traveled. His soul had somehow merged with this young man’s body. He didn't even know who this young man was.

“What did you call me just now? Zhang Yang?”

Zhang Yang finally looked directly at the girl, feeling a slight stir of attraction toward her sweetness. However, it was only a fleeting sensation; his current predicament left him no mental space for anything else.

“Yes, Zhang Yang, what’s wrong? Don’t frighten me!”

Tears still shimmered in the girl's eyes. Seeing Zhang Yang finally speak to her brought a sliver of relief, but his question sparked a new worry. Who would ask such a strange question?

“I’m fine. I was just a bit confused, and I can’t remember some things. Tell me, what exactly happened?”

Glancing at the white gauze on his own arm and then at the bandage on the girl’s forehead, Zhang Yang quickly inquired. He was an intelligent man; achieving the status of Vice President overseeing the entire TCM department in such a critical hospital required more than just medical skill. Now that his mind was clearer, he wouldn't ask questions that invited suspicion.

The girl suspected nothing and immediately began recounting their story. By this point, Zhang Yang had accepted this new identity.

Time-traveling was surely better than complete annihilation. At least he was alive. A man who had survived a plane crash understood the preciousness of living far better than anyone. Being alive superseded everything else.

The flight attendant, the tycoon—they were all dust now. Zhang Yang’s current priority was understanding his present circumstances.

Through the girl’s explanation, he quickly learned that the owner of this body was also named Zhang Yang, sharing his name, which brought him a small measure of relief—at least he wouldn't need to change names.

He was now a third-year student at Changjing University Medical School, majoring in clinical medicine. University felt like a distant memory, yet here was a chance to be a student again.

As for why they were here, Zhang Yang quickly pieced it together from the girl’s description.

Apparently, yesterday evening, a few classmates gathered for dinner, then went to a KTV afterward. While walking the girl home, Zhang Yang encountered a few thugs.

What happened next was cliché, in Zhang Yang’s opinion. The young ‘him’—the one with heroic aspirations—hadn't run away but had chosen to fight the thugs, wanting to make a good impression in front of the lady.

Alas, two fists couldn't defeat four hands. During the brawl, Zhang Yang was severely beaten, and the girl was also struck on the head with a beer bottle, hence the bandage. They both ended up sharing this hospital room.

By the way, the girl's name was Mi Xue—a lovely name.

When they were brought to the hospital last night, Zhang Yang was already unconscious. Fortunately, his earlier display of reckless bravery had successfully scared off the thugs; otherwise, Mi Xue might have suffered a worse fate. That was the extent of the original 'him's' contribution yesterday.

The unconscious Zhang Yang didn't wake until this morning, only to find his body inhabited by a different soul. Mi Xue had stayed by his bedside all night, not sleeping until he woke up, and then collapsing into sleep near him.

“You must be exhausted. I seem to have forgotten all those events. Let me think slowly; you should rest now,” Zhang Yang said softly, needing time to process everything.

“Zhang Yang, you’re awake! That’s wonderful!”

As soon as he finished speaking, three boys and two girls walked into the ward. Seeing Zhang Yang, they immediately cried out in delight. The tallest boy hurried straight to Zhang Yang’s bedside.

Zhang Yang noticed that the two girls were each carrying a bouquet of flowers.

Seeing these five people, Zhang Yang’s eyebrows instinctively twitched. He didn’t recognize any of them. Yet, deep down, he felt another sensation—a profound familiarity, a closeness that made him want to embrace them instantly.

This conflict between unfamiliarity and intimacy surged through his mind. Moments later, Zhang Yang’s head began to ache again, this time more severely than before.

Suddenly, it felt as if a heavy sledgehammer had struck his skull, and the next instant, his consciousness completely faded away.

…………………………

New book launch, hoping old and new friends will continue to offer support!