For a guy who used to avoid the campus cafeteria just to steer clear of crowds, fighting for space on the subway every morning with the most battle-hardened salarymen on Earth felt like the saddest fall from grace.
Yin Ze was expressionless, sandwiched between two sweaty middle-aged men, numbly scrolling through "The Corridor of Schrödinger's Life" on his phone to kill time.
That's when he remembered—his past self had actually been smart enough to Google "how to get rich after time travel."
Betting on sports was a classic way for transmigrators to make their first fortune.
Germany losing 0–2 to Korea in 2018? That second-half live bet had odds over 350 to 1. Or when Barcelona got wrecked 2–8 by Bayern, own goal included. Anyone who bet on that walked away financially free.
And who could forget the legendary 7–1 game in Brazil's home stadium during the 2014 World Cup semifinals?
There was also good old crypto mining.
The Corridor app played these clips as rapid-fire data highlights in front of him, his eyes lighting up at every miracle upset.
Then he remembered—in this world, the national soccer team had *actually* qualified for three World Cups. They even beat France on the road. This place was so distorted it could be classified as an A+ level anomaly.
Yeah… betting on sports here was a lost cause.
He sighed and tossed all that data into the digital trash bin, then switched to the streaming section and started watching *Man vs. Wild*.
Twenty minutes later, salvation arrived. He stepped off the train and walked to the studio.
It had been nearly two weeks since his audition for *Fireflies in the Forest*. Word had finally come—he got the part. Director Komori Yoshihiro had taken a liking to his voice, especially how well it fit the yokai character. After some consideration, they went with him.
This meant the entire project was now in the hands of IM Production. Most of the work was a two-person show between the male and female leads, and Yin Ze figured Kashiwa Ipei had probably pulled some strings behind the scenes.
He rubbed his hands together and snuck into the recording booth, basking in the warm air.
His co-star, a young woman, had already arrived. She sat quietly in the corner of the couch, seemingly lost in thought.
"Hey there, Sakura," Yin Ze greeted her.
"...Oh, um… hi." She glanced at him, muttered something vague, and then went quiet again.
Was she in a bad mood?
He started wondering.
Every time he saw her, she acted differently—sometimes bubbly, sometimes withdrawn, sometimes quiet and graceful. Today seemed to be her introverted, shy mode.
As a socially savvy adult, Yin Ze knew when to read the room.
It was completely normal. Everyone needs time to be alone.
After a long day, husbands often sit quietly in the car before heading upstairs. Middle-aged men, worn down by life, go night fishing by the river, letting the wind wash away their weariness. Even he himself felt like the only real "me time" was that hour before bed—fresh out of the shower, scrolling on his phone, lost in thought.
We're all just ordinary people, busy from dawn to dusk.
Loneliness is painful—but sometimes, it's also the balm that calms the nerves.
High school was no joke. Sakura probably had to balance schoolwork with late-night studio sessions. Add in the need to practice her acting alone and say no to friends who wanted to hang out—it must've been exhausting.
This room was quiet. A perfect place to recharge.
Dear young Sakura, rest assured—someone as understanding as me would *never* disturb your rare moment of peace before work begins.
She sat in the corner. He sat by the door. A wide gap lay between them. That gap… was called emotional intelligence.
Yin Ze was quite pleased with himself. He continued watching Bear Grylls feast on bugs, worms, and elephant dung.
A silent world, untouched by outsiders.
Sakura Ayane was pretending to study her lines.
Truth was, she'd been panicking since before she arrived. When Yin Ze was still working as a part-time waiter, it had been easy to strike up a conversation. After all, *she* was the paying customer. But now they were equals, and that made things awkward.
They'd worked together a few times, even joked a little. But they weren't close. Most of their interactions were surface-level small talk.
Bridging that emotional distance... wasn't her strong suit. If it were, she wouldn't go home alone after school every day.
Still, based on her experience, Yin Ze seemed like the type who would start conversations easily. She figured she'd just wait for him to break the ice.
She waited.
And waited.
Nothing.
She turned her head—only to find him sitting like he was on the other side of the planet.
What's going on?
Do I smell weird? Is there something on my face?
Completely baffled, Sakura inched closer.
Yin Ze stayed frozen, arms crossed, eyes down, staring at the floor. In truth, he was still mentally tagging along with Bear Grylls through the jungle.
But he wasn't totally spaced out. He noticed her gaze and gave a polite, apologetic smile before turning away—clearly trying not to disturb her. Then he dove back into learning about the nutritional value of elephant poop.
Turned away, silent, and smiling out of courtesy.
Sakura had seen this kind of rejection before.
At school, this was the standard way to subtly shut someone down.
Her heart turned cold. Her face stiffened.
*Not again.*
She'd prepared so many lines, so many openings to ease into a chat.
She *wanted* to be friends.
She was sure that if she took the chance now, it would work.
The emptiness hit hard. The studio lights felt dimmer. Darkness echoed in her ears like ocean waves. She sank into the sofa's embrace, unable to climb out.
*What did I do wrong?*
Nervously twisting her fingers, she pressed her lips into a firm line.
She glanced at Yin Ze's back, remembering their brief conversations:
—The sweetness of strawberry cake. The comforting bitterness of hot coffee.
Her heart beat faster.
Suddenly, she clenched her fists, stood up slowly, and walked toward him.
She *really* wanted to change.
She *really* wanted a friend.
Every step she took felt like lifting a mountain.
Even if she got rejected, even if she was too dense to read the room...
She kept her eyes locked forward.
This was her little act of defiance.
This time, no waiting. No clever icebreakers. No subtle social maneuvering.
Just a straightforward, honest expression of intent.
She wasn't good at poetic, heartfelt conversations—but she *did* have courage.
She finally stood beside him, looked down, and spoke.
Yin Ze, sensing something, paused the documentary and looked up in surprise.
Sakura's fingertips had gone white. She steadied herself and spoke clearly, firmly:
"I'm sorry—can I… ask you to be my friend?"
The whole recording studio seemed to fall silent. Even the machines seemed to hold their breath.
Sakura's mind went blank after that. All the courage she'd built up vanished.
Then, after a long pause—
"Sure," Yin Ze nodded, surprised.
"...Eh?" Sakura blinked, her big eyes wide. "Really?"
"Yeah."
"No, wait, I mean *really* friends? Like talking about hobbies, venting about life, maybe walking to and from class together if we went to the same school? Passing notes in class, celebrating birthdays, eating cake together—that kind of friend?" she clarified.
"No problem."
"You're *sure*? You want to be friends with *me*?" she pointed to herself.
"What's there to hesitate about? Honestly, I'm glad you asked," Yin Ze said.
She went silent again. Then, just to be sure—
"So… we're friends now?"
"…If you're okay with it, then yeah. We are." Yin Ze replied gently.
In that instant, pure joy spread across her cheeks like sunrise, making her baby-fat face glow. It was like she'd flipped fate's coin and landed heads.
She clenched her fists and stomped her foot in giddy excitement, hair bouncing.
"Are—are you okay?" Yin Ze asked, startled. "You're not having a breakdown, right?"
Outside the door, the director and her manager exchanged a glance through the glass window—then tiptoed away, smiling quietly.