Chapter 1: Wronged?

“Get out here!”
In the classroom, the homeroom teacher grabbed Zhang Qin and dragged him outside.
Zhang Qin had been lying on his desk, fast asleep, when he was suddenly pulled out.
But this Zhang Qin was not the same as before—he was the Zhang Qin of ten years later, reborn into his younger self.
The introverted Zhang Qin surveyed his surroundings. Wasn’t this the very scene from when he was wronged?
He would never forget this moment: the day he was falsely accused by his homeroom teacher.
What exactly had happened? Zhang Qin was in the high school sports class. As an athlete, he had to train every single day. Morning training began at 5:30 a.m., and by 8:30 on a September morning, the weather was already stifling. Training ended at 7:30, with half an hour set aside for breakfast.
So when class started after training, the classroom was dim, the air conditioning humming, curtains drawn, and soon everyone was fast asleep. Many teachers didn’t even bother to teach the first period, knowing no one could concentrate—those awake were groggy, the rest were dozing.
Zhang Qin was in Senior Three, Class Twelve, a physics track class—the later-numbered classes in the year were all science-oriented.
The trouble began because, every afternoon, the entire athletic team trained together, leaving their bags on the stage by the field. Yesterday afternoon, a student from Class Six, a liberal arts class, lost a hundred yuan.
This morning, that student came to the classroom and confronted Zhang Qin. Soon, Mr. Chen, the homeroom teacher, heard rumors of theft and stormed over from the office, dragging Zhang Qin to the hallway.
“Was it you who took it?”
At first, Zhang Qin didn’t understand why he was being accused, but later in his previous life, he figured it out. The student who sat behind Zhang Qin often lost things, and since the two didn’t get along—his deskmate would scribble on his clothes with pens, and when Zhang Qin complained, the boy would brush it off or threaten a fight.
With that background, whenever something went missing, the student behind would accuse Zhang Qin. Once, he even told the teacher Zhang Qin was a thief. The homeroom teacher, who despised thieves, heard about it. With no evidence, he hadn’t pursued it—but now, with another incident, he immediately assumed Zhang Qin was involved, not bothering to check the facts.
People’s ingrained prejudices are not easily changed; it takes subtle, persistent influence.

At that moment, the bell rang for the end of first period. The hallway was packed as Zhang Qin found himself pinned at the office door by the teacher.
“Was it you who took it?”
“It wasn’t me!”
Now aware of his situation, Zhang Qin regained his composure.
“If you don’t believe me, you can check the surveillance footage. There are cameras everywhere in the school.”
“Then why is everyone saying it was you?”
“It just wasn’t. I’m innocent, and the truth will clear me. Check the cameras.”
“Where were you yesterday when Teacher Huang was having his birthday?”
“I was right there.”
“Who can vouch for you?”
“I don’t know.”
The bell rang for the next lesson.
“Fine. Here’s the deal: if I find out it was you, you don’t come back to this school. If it wasn’t you, I’ll apologize to you.”
He held out his hand, and Zhang Qin reached out to shake.
That was how men made agreements, but Zhang Qin would not accept blame for something he hadn’t done.
“Deal!”

They shook hands then and there.
“Go get some paper and a pen. Write down everything you want to say to me and leave it in my office,” said the teacher, who then headed back to class.
Zhang Qin, having been through this in his previous life, knew exactly what to do. He fetched paper and pen, sat at the teacher’s desk, and began to record, word for word, everything that had happened yesterday.
He tried to recall any evidence that could prove his innocence. In his previous life, he had never resolved this incident; it had become a knot in his heart. Now, given a second chance, he was determined to untangle it.
From the adjacent classroom, he could hear the teacher lecturing. Time passed swiftly as Zhang Qin wrote out every detail of the previous day. Earlier, he hadn’t grasped the full sequence of events, but now, with time to think, he began to piece together how to prove his innocence.
Yesterday, after finishing the triple jump, he had gone to throw the shot put. The homeroom teacher had watched him during the triple jump—he could testify to that. The key was the period after the triple jump, when Zhang Qin and a partner went from the field to the shot put area behind the school, then back to the field to cool down.
He could narrow his focus. He’d had a partner when he went to the shot put, and later, the other students were preparing a surprise for the coach’s birthday. During that time, the homeroom teacher also came to watch the shot put. As long as he could prove he hadn’t wandered off during the birthday celebration, he’d be cleared.
But how to prove he was there? In his previous life, he’d told the teacher there was someone with him, but the classmate, afraid of being implicated, refused to testify.
You can’t always rely on others—they can let you down.
Wait!
Since it was Teacher Huang’s birthday yesterday, there must have been a video taken. None of the other students were allowed to have phones, only the class monitor had one. He remembered seeing a video the monitor had recorded of the birthday surprise, and he was in it. The monitor had shared the video in the group chat, which included the whole athletic team, the homeroom teacher, and the coach.
He could remind the teacher to watch the video—it would prove his innocence completely.
Perfect!
With evidence to confirm his alibi, all he had to do was wait for the teacher to return so he could explain everything and clear his name. In that moment, Zhang Qin felt the weight of two lifetimes lifting from his shoulders. Some knots, no matter how long they’ve been tied, must eventually be undone.