Chapter Seven: Brother Lei Tells You a Story

When Ma Dongmei left the house that morning, her smile nearly reached her ears. The simple yet deeply meaningful breakfast made her feel as if she were living in a dream. Two years might not seem long, but so much had happened in that time to trouble her; yet now, all those unpleasant things no longer mattered, for she knew her efforts had finally borne fruit.

Three eggs, four yolks—not because she had chanced upon a double-yolked egg, but because Lei, just as he had when they were children, gave her his own yolk. As a child, Ma Dongmei often had breakfast at Wang Lei’s home. Her mother, serving as the head coach of the capital’s women’s volleyball team, would drop her off at the Wang family’s house whenever she traveled for away games.

Ma Dongmei had never liked egg yolks as a child, but later, Wang Lei frightened her by claiming that eating only egg whites would make her grow feathers. For a long time, Ma Dongmei secretly worried that she might sprout a tuft of feathers at any moment. After that, Wang Lei always put his own yolk into her bowl, and, over time, this simple act changed her tastes.

Now, though Wang Lei’s life had nearly collapsed, things were finally beginning to turn. Perhaps it was the extra egg yolk, but Ma Dongmei’s training that morning was exceptionally good.

After sending Meimei out the door, Wang Lei did not idle. He felt it was time to get moving—he couldn’t let his physical limitations keep him sitting still. His muscles hadn’t been used in two years; some had even begun to atrophy. Yet what surprised him was that, despite his poor physical state, his body’s sensitivity was remarkably high. After his morning exercise, this sensation grew only stronger.

Though he did not fully understand the changes his body was undergoing, Wang Lei felt they were beneficial. At the very least, he could now devise the best possible recovery plan.

He tidied the house, dusted off Ma Dongmei’s cherished photo of the two of them, and, without embarrassment, washed the clothes she had changed out of. He no longer minded doing these things; they allowed him, in some measure, to help the woman who had risked so much for him.

After his “househusband” duties, Wang Lei sat down at the computer. His memories of his time on Earth were vivid and precise—he could not waste such an opportunity.

Although Wang Lei was not hurting for money—with millions in the bank and a house still standing in the capital—he felt it necessary to begin anew in another sense, at least to keep people from gossiping about his relationship with Meimei.

Logging into the desktop version of RapidCast, he found, as expected, that his comment section was flooded with negative remarks.

Ma Dongmei was now an emerging star in the country's women’s volleyball scene. Though she had yet to play for the national team, her remarkable talent, solid technique, and, above all, her charming face, had won her many admirers. Many internet users, drawn by her looks, were deeply dissatisfied with the photos of her and Wang Lei posted the day before. He had vanished for two years, while Ma Dongmei had become a dazzling new star. Besides, news of his disability was no secret—by most measures, Wang Lei was now unworthy of Ma Dongmei.

These criticisms did not bother Wang Lei. People’s mouths were their own, and he was no grand master of mass silence. Two years ago, he might have argued back and forth with these people, but now, having already “died” once, he felt it beneath him to waste energy on such squabbles.

“Ma Dongmei’s husband, Xia Luo, is completely unreliable. This is common knowledge among the neighbors—a grown man living off his wife. That’s nothing to be proud of in any era…”

Ignoring the negative comments, and paying little attention to the rest, Wang Lei began to recount “Goodbye Mr. Loser” on RapidCast in his own words.

In his memories from Earth, this comedy film was quite impressive. Its exaggerated plot conveyed a simple truth, and the team at Mahua FunAge showcased their comedic talent through it.

The “ordinary” Wang Lei from Earth had also bought a ticket for this film. Having made a mess of his own life, he sometimes fantasized about what he would do if he had an experience like Xia Luo’s. More or less, it would be the same: what we can’t have always seems best; that is a universal human trait. Yet, often, what we overlook nearby is what suits us best.

The fusion of souls had benefited the present Wang Lei greatly, granting him a crystal-clear memory. His language might not be ornate, but he could still tell a good story.

Wang Lei had no deeper motive for sharing this tale on RapidCast; he simply wanted to tell it.

He also wanted to see if he could handle writing work. The “ordinary” Wang Lei on Earth fancied himself an artsy youth, but his writing skills were mediocre—he was not even a “flop” author online. Practicing with a story like “Goodbye Mr. Loser” seemed just right.

The story was not short. After writing a section, Wang Lei paused to review his “creation” and found it decent enough—at least, he could read it himself.

After posting, he closed RapidCast. This was only the beginning; there was no need to pay it too much mind.

He browsed the web, catching up on current affairs, and approached the day with a relaxed attitude.

With a calm mind, Wang Lei considered his next steps. Restoring his health was the top priority. Beyond that, all he could really do was “borrow” some things from his memories of Earth.

Of course, he did not intend to go all out right away. Even if he wanted to copy, there needed to be a process. He fancied writing a million-word magnum opus straight out of his mind, but actually extracting that many words was no simple matter. After all, he was only human, not a “typing machine.” In his current state, even if he copied without a thought, he could manage only thirty to fifty thousand words a day—enough to leave his hands cramped and aching.

A little writing here, a little “borrowing” there, and telling “stories” online—this seemed the best path for him. Having “died” once, he saw no need to exhaust himself.