Proactively Attracted chapter 1

Back to the Past? 

On the third day after Qin Mudong’s death, Lu Xingjia still felt like he was dreaming.  

At just twenty-eight years old, Qin Mudong, a renowned astrophysicist, had been awarded the National Science and Technology Award in Physics. A candid photo taken at the award ceremony had gone viral, making him known to countless people online.  

In the photo, his deep-set eyes, high nose bridge, and dark, piercing gaze exuded an aloof intensity—deeper and more unfathomable than the black holes he studied. His striking proportions and long legs sent netizens into a frenzy of admiration.  

Since childhood, Lu Xingjia had idolized his older neighbor, Qin Mudong. Though naturally timid and never daring to congratulate him in person, he enthusiastically bragged about Qin Mudong’s achievements to everyone around him.

But just three days ago, this brilliant physicist was found dead at home—from suicide.  

The news of his death caused an uproar online, and soon, the reason behind it came to light.  

He suffered from severe emotional disorders and deep depression.  

Among his belongings, the police discovered a journal. The final entry read:  

“The world is nothing but eternal darkness. Only truth is light.”

With that, he ended his life in search of that eternal, unreachable light.  

Geniuses are often profound thinkers yet emotionally sensitive. When they dedicate their lives to a single pursuit, with nothing in reality to anchor them, it’s easy for them to lose themselves—chasing after an unseen, untouchable truth.  

The media mourned the loss of a great talent, lamenting how the nation had lost a future pillar of science. Netizens grieved as well, devastated by the passing of their admired “source of joy.”  

But for Lu Xingjia, the pain ran deeper—regret and sorrow gnawed at him.  

Qin Mudong hadn’t always been this way. It wasn’t until high school—only after high school—that he became completely withdrawn, turning into an emotionless machine.  

As a child, Qin Mudong had been cool but full of life. He would take little Lu Xingjia to catch sparrows and watch ants, silently holding an umbrella over him when he cried, comforting him gently.  

Then came middle school. After his parents’ divorce, Qin Mudong was sent to a boarding school. When Lu Xingjia saw him again, something had changed.  

Lu Xingjia had always been an average student, but by sheer luck, he scored well on his entrance exams and got into the same high school as Qin Mudong.  

Seeing his childhood idol again, Lu Xingjia excitedly ran up to talk to him—only to be met with an entirely different person.  

Cold. Distant. Completely unreachable.  

Lu Xingjia faltered. Afraid of being disliked, he never dared to approach Qin Mudong again, only watching from afar in silent admiration.  

As time passed, Qin Mudong grew even more withdrawn. By the time college entrance exams approached, he had stopped interacting with his peers altogether. After winning the Physics Olympiad gold medal, he took a leave of absence and never returned to school. The distance between them widened, and eventually, they lost contact entirely.  

Lu Xingjia had never considered what kind of pain Qin Mudong might have been going through back then—what had caused him to shut himself off from the world.  

If only he had been braver back then… would things have turned out differently?  

Tears fell unconsciously, sliding down his cheeks and into his mouth, bitter and salty. Lu Xingjia raised an arm, roughly wiping them away.  

He couldn’t cry.  

Today was Qin Mudong’s funeral. He didn’t want to show his sorrow in front of him.  

Lu Xingjia took a deep breath, dried his eyes, and called his boss to ask for leave.

With his average grades and timid personality, he had followed the same mundane path as countless others—graduating college, finding a job at a small company, working the same routine of clocking in and out, eating, sleeping. No house, no car, no partner. Boring and mediocre.

His boss wasn’t bad, aside from being as stingy as any typical employer.  

Hearing Lu Xingjia’s request, the man let out a deliberate cough. “Taking leave is fine, but…”

“I know, it’s fine.” Lu Xingjia interrupted lightly.  

It was nothing more than salary, performance bonuses, and year-end rewards. Compared to Qin Moudong’s death, Lu Xingjia didn’t care about any of it.  

Perhaps sensing his low mood, the boss said nothing more and approved the leave without hesitation.  

Lu Xingjia hung up the phone, changed into a black suit, and hurried out the door.  

…..

Xingjiang City was always rainy. By the time Lu Xingjia arrived at the funeral home, his pant legs were soaked with rain and mud.  

There were a lot of people inside—Qin Moudong’s former colleagues, distant relatives, fans who had come on their own, reporters… The atmosphere was noisy and chaotic.  

Qin Moudong’s father presided over the funeral.  

Dressed in a black suit, he was gentlemanly, composed, polite, and calm. Every step of the ceremony was carried out flawlessly, yet something about it made Lu Xingjia feel uneasy.  

But he had no energy to dwell on it. He walked up to Qin Moudong’s portrait, slowly placing a white wreath in front of it. His gaze traced over the black-and-white photo again and again, unwilling to look away even for a second.  

Outside, the wind rustled the leaves violently. The sky had darkened to near black, and heavy raindrops pounded against the glass, so fierce it seemed as if they might shatter it.  

Lu Xingjia would never forget that day. It had rained just as heavily. He had been crouching by the flower bed downstairs, crying alone, when Qin Moudong had come to find him, holding a black umbrella and offering him a White Rabbit milk candy.  

Lu Xingjia had grown up in a single-parent household. When he was very young, his father, a police officer, had died in an accident while on duty.  

Every time, his mother, He Xi, would gently stroke his head and tell him, “Your father was a hero, a great hero.” But the kids in the yard never wanted to play with him.  

Children didn’t understand things like that. They didn’t care whether his father was a hero or not. They only knew that Lu Xingjia was different from them—he didn’t have a dad.  

That day, He Xi had left early for work. She had to bear the weight of the entire family alone, so little Lu Xingjia was left at home by himself.  

He was lonely. No one wanted to play with him. Downstairs, the other kids were jumping in puddles in their raincoats. He wanted to join them, so he grabbed his umbrella and hurried down.  

But before he could get close, they splattered him with mud.  

“Don’t come near me!”  

“Stay away from us!”  

“You’re a stray! You’re not like us!”  

…  

They repeated words they had heard somewhere, probably without even understanding them. But to Lu Xingjia, those cold words were like knives, stabbing straight into his heart.  

He lifted his chin stubbornly and shouted back, “I’m not a stray! I’m not!!! I have a dad! My dad is a hero!”  

No one listened. The kids scattered like they were avoiding the plague, leaving him alone in the rain, crying his heart out.  

When he was too tired to cry anymore, he sat by the flower bed in a daze. His whole body was drenched, so he simply threw his umbrella aside and curled up in a ball, giving up.  

The rain grew heavier, the sky turning black. Thick storm clouds loomed overhead, and the large raindrops hitting his skin stung.  

Then, a black umbrella appeared over his head, shielding him from the relentless downpour.  

Little Lu Xingjia looked up and saw a tall boy standing beside him, holding the umbrella.  

The boy had broad shoulders and a slim waist, his features cold and indifferent. His dark pupils revealed no emotion, and his long, straight legs made him look like a god descending from the heavens.  

Lu Xingjia stared in a daze, tilting his head up to look at him.  

The boy spoke lightly. “Aren’t you cold, standing in the rain?”  

Lu Xingjia bit his lip and shook his head without saying a word.  

“Go home,” the boy said again. “You’ll get sick.”  

Lu Xingjia curled in on himself even more, his long lashes lowering as fresh tears fell again. “No one cares. No one likes me. No one…”

“There will be someone who does,” the boy crouched down, looking into Lu Xingjia’s eyes with quiet seriousness. “There definitely will be.”  

The small and frail Lu Xingjia blinked, his lashes still damp with tears. “Really?”  

“Yeah.” The boy was clearly not skilled at comforting others. He fumbled around in his pocket for a while before finally pulling out a slightly melted White Rabbit candy. “Here, eat this. Once you do, no more crying.”  

Outside the umbrella, the storm raged on. Rain poured in torrents.  

The boy, his expression calm and distant, stretched out his palm. A single milk candy rested in the center, quietly waiting.  

Lu Xingjia sniffled and, like a kitten reaching out its paw, took the candy, unwrapped it, and popped it into his mouth.  

A gentle sweetness spread across his tongue, as if a light had suddenly pierced through the gloom in his heart.  

From that day on, no matter how fierce the wind and rain, he was never afraid again.  

But the boy who had once brought him light had abandoned the world he once loved—and taken his own life.  

Lu Xingjia couldn’t hold back any longer. Tears streamed down his face.  

By the time he left the funeral home, night had already fallen. The rain continued to drizzle, pattering softly against the pavement.  

Dragging his exhausted body, Lu Xingjia boarded the bus.  

At this late hour, there were hardly any passengers. He found an empty seat and sank into it.  

His tears had dried up, leaving only a bone-deep fatigue. His eyelids felt unbearably heavy.  

As the bus swayed gently along its route, he slowly closed his eyes.

Just before falling asleep, a final thought flashed through Lu Xingjia’s mind.  

If he could do it all over again, he would never let go of Qin Mudong’s hand, no matter how distant or indifferent he became.  

…  

“Jia Jia! Jia Jia! Lu Xingjia!!! Wake up! The class monitor is coming!!!”  

At some point, the surrounding noise had faded into silence. Someone was shaking Lu Xingjia vigorously, their voice growing louder and louder. Annoyed, he opened his eyes.  

Familiar yet unfamiliar desks, books, and chairs filled his vision. Standing in front of him was a young woman in a work dress, frowning as she looked at him.  

Lu Xingjia’s eyes widened in shock.  

This seemed to be… his high school homeroom teacher, Lu Minsi.  

Was he hallucinating because he wanted so badly to return to the past?  

Lu Minsi tapped his head with a rolled-up textbook, her voice cold. “Lu Xingjia, sleeping during evening self-study? A 3,000-word reflection. Hand it in tomorrow morning.”  

The pain on his head was real. Lu Xingjia’s heart pounded wildly.  

Had he really returned to high school?  

Lu Minsi strode back to the podium in her high heels and handed a stack of papers to the student in the front row. “Pass these back. These are the subject selection forms.”  

It was summer. The ceiling fan whirred tirelessly, rustling the stacks of papers. The date on the calendar beside the blackboard clearly read ‘July 1, 2010’. The forms fluttered as they were passed backward.  

Amid the commotion, Lu Xingjia’s deskmate patted his shoulder, scratching his head apologetically. “Sorry, man. I was playing on my phone and didn’t notice the teacher coming.”  

“It’s fine,” Lu Xingjia shook his head, staring at the somewhat familiar face before him, struggling to recall his name. “You’re… Qiu Ruifeng?”  

Qiu Ruifeng’s eyes widened, his thick eyebrows shooting up. “Who else would I be? Did the teacher smack you so hard you lost your memory?”  

At the podium, Lu Minsi continued speaking. “Subject selection is an important turning point in high school. Make sure to discuss it with your parents carefully before deciding between humanities and science. Of course, some students may choose to focus on competitions. The school fully supports that. Just be sure to make a choice based on your own true interests…”  

The familiar subject selection form reached Lu Xingjia’s hands. It was printed on the school’s signature green “spinach paper.” Though it was just a single sheet, it felt as heavy as a thousand pounds—solid and real.  

Lu Xingjia took a deep breath, then exhaled with relief. “This is great, Qiu Ruifeng. This is really great.”  

He had truly returned to his first year of high school.

The school had not yet divided the subjects, and Qin Mudong had not completely closed himself off yet. He still had a chance to get closer to him.

He planned to transfer to the competition class where Qin Mudong was, and he would never let go of his hand again, even if Qin Mudong remained indifferent.

Even if this was a beautiful dream, he still wanted to fulfill his wish within it.

Qiu Ruifeng’s expression twisted slightly, and he muttered softly, “It’s over, Lu Xingjia really got knocked out. He was punished to write a 3000-word reflection and still looks like an idiot, smiling like that.”

Author’s note:

This is a genre I’ve never written before, so I’m not sure how it will turn out, but I’ll definitely give it my best shot! (Clenching fist!)