The day before the college entrance examination, the class beauty’s birthday arrived.

Ethan Montgomery, the class beauty’s boyfriend, proposed that the entire class go to a bar to celebrate her birthday and lift their spirits before the big exam.

Shockingly, the top students of our Rocket Class—all known for their strict discipline and academic focus—voted in full support.

In my past life, I was a student committee member. I firmly opposed such a reckless suggestion. I said we should be resting and preparing mentally for the most important test of our lives, not partying and drinking the night before.

Ethan looked at me coldly and said, “You’re just jealous again.”

My classmates followed up with sneers and mocking laughter: “Oh, acting so high and mighty again? You’re just bitter that Ethan dotes on the class beauty and not you.”

I ignored their contempt and implored them sincerely not to go. That night, I even called them one by one, making sure they stayed home and got enough rest.

The next day, under the sweltering heat of early summer, I arrived at the testing center early. I called them again, urging them to leave home on time and wishing them good luck.

They all did well. Their exam results were excellent—some even achieved record-breaking scores.

But just as we were celebrating, devastating news arrived.

The class beauty, Sophie Bennett, had gone to the bar alone that night. She got drunk, was assaulted, and left traumatized.

Unable to bear the shame and emotional collapse, she attempted suicide by slitting her wrists.

Ethan received her final phone call. Upon hearing her last words, he went completely mad.

The very next day, he and several classmates cornered me on the school rooftop. Without hesitation, they pushed me off. I fell and died on the spot.

When the police conducted an investigation, they all gave matching false statements:

“She warned us not to help Sophie.”

“She said anyone who went to the bar would be disqualified from the exam.”

“Out of fear of failure, she jumped herself.”

They twisted everything—the calls I made that night, the surveillance footage showing who left for the testing center. It was all used to frame me.

Then came the online outrage. Netizens, blind with fury, doxxed me, harassed my family, and painted me as a cold, jealous monster.

One night, someone poured gasoline on our home and set it ablaze. My parents died in that fire.

Ethan, who lived next door, stood silently on his balcony, watching the flames with folded arms.

He heard my parents scream for help, but didn’t lift a finger until it was over. Then he called the fire department—as if nothing had happened.

I didn’t know until I was dead that all of it—every part—had been orchestrated by Sophie.

When I opened my eyes again, I was reborn. It was the same timeline, the same people, the same conversations.

Ethan stood proudly with Sophie, announcing, “See you all at the bar tonight!”

This time, I simply grabbed my bag, turned my back, and walked away.

Let them do whatever they want.

Let them dance, drink, and pretend to be happy.

I won’t waste my breath trying to stop them.

Never again will I sacrifice myself for the sake of those who never deserved it.

——

After I died, Sophie opened a livestream. In front of tens of thousands of viewers, she cried pitifully:

“Even though she bullied me and wouldn’t let others help, the dead deserve respect. I forgive her.”

She sniffled dramatically, wiping invisible tears.

“But I’ve developed a psychological shadow from what happened. I can’t take the college entrance exam anymore. I’ve decided to go abroad instead. I’m sorry I couldn’t fulfill my dream of getting into Yale University.”

Sophie had always sold herself as a “genius beauty,” a future Yale scholar.

Now that she said this, netizens were moved.

“You’re so brave and forgiving.”

“You’re still a role model!”

“You’re amazing, Sophie!”

Her followers skyrocketed by millions overnight.

But when the camera turned off, her mask dropped.

She curled up in bed with a strange man, her voice gleeful:

“I’ve always cheated to get high scores. If I’d taken that exam, I would’ve been exposed for sure.”

“Luckily, I thought of this plan—it covered up my pregnancy and gave me a perfect excuse to skip the test.”

“I was going to lure Ethan to the bar and frame him too, but that bitch Emma Carter ruined everything. Still, it worked out. Now, Ethan’s so guilty he says he’ll take responsibility for me and the baby.”

She laughed wildly, a sound sharp enough to scrape the soul.

I wanted to lunge at her, strangle her, make her pay.

But before I could move, I heard a familiar voice, cutting into my thoughts:

“Emma, why are you always so angry?”

“Sophie invited everyone to her birthday, even you. Can’t you be a little more grateful?”

“You act like you’re above everyone else just because you study hard. So what? Sophie gets more attention than you just by being an influencer.”

“You suck up to the class monitor all day, but he won’t even look at you. Now that he’s celebrating Sophie’s birthday, you can’t handle it, can you?”

Their voices, once haunting me to death, were now ringing fresh in my ears.

But this time, I wouldn't fight them.

This time, I'd fight for myself.

I stood frozen, suddenly realizing—the scene in front of me was the night before the college entrance exam.

I pinched myself. It hurt. Tears fell instantly.

I had really been reborn.

The laughter around me faded. The ones who had just mocked me now fell silent.

“Did we go too far? She’s only doing this for our own good…” someone murmured.

Sophie’s eyes turned red as she choked out, “Emma, I didn’t know you hated me so much that you’d curse everyone to fail. We’re in the Rocket Class. How could we mess up just for celebrating my birthday?”

Ethan stepped up, shielding her protectively, his eyes full of disdain.

“Don’t worry,” he sneered, “we’re not like you—so scared of an exam you run to the toilet a dozen times, and then still do badly because of it.”

“It’s just the college entrance exam. Geniuses like us can breeze through it.”

The class burst into laughter.

I clenched my fists. My chest tightened.

During the class placement exam in our second year, the pressure wrecked my stomach. I kept needing the bathroom, constantly interrupting my concentration. I didn’t make the Rocket Class cut-off.

After the test, I hid in the library, silently crying.

Back then, Ethan had found me. He gently wiped away my tears, concern written all over his face.

“I asked Auntie to make you some porridge. I know you’re upset. But if you didn’t do well this time, you’ll do better next time. I’ll help you catch up. We’ll go to the same university.”

I truly believed our quiet romance would lead to something beautiful.

Then Sophie transferred in. Everything changed.

I took a deep breath and relaxed my hands.

Ignoring their laughter, I calmly packed my bag.

“You’re right,” I said quietly. “In that case, I hope you all have fun.”

They were stunned. I didn’t yell or cry like they’d expected.

The laughter froze. The room was quiet.

Some students awkwardly shrugged and changed the subject, discussing drinks.

“Fruit wine’s only three percent. No way that’ll mess up the exam.”

I scoffed silently.

That bar’s “fruit wine” could knock out a grown man with one glass.

Dad’s hospital had seen more than a few teens come in with alcohol poisoning—most from that place.

In my last life, I’d tried to stop them because of that.

In this one, I wouldn’t waste my breath.

I slung my bag over my shoulder, ready to leave.

To my surprise, Ethan didn’t look pleased—he frowned.

As I turned to go, he suddenly grabbed my wrist.

“No. You’re coming with us.”

The room went still. Everyone stared.

“Why would she go?” someone asked in disbelief. “She’ll ruin the mood.”

Sophie chimed in softly, eyes wide and voice full of gentle concern.

“What if Emma comes tonight and bombs the exam tomorrow, then blames me? That would be so unfair…”

Her tone was sweet, but her eyes betrayed her fear.

She was afraid I’d actually go with Ethan.

If I were there, how could she get him drunk and pin her pregnancy on him?

Ethan scoffed.

“Don’t forget who she is. Remember the Dragon Boat Festival? The English teacher forgot to assign homework, and she just had to call and ask for test papers—then messaged everyone one by one and ruined the holiday.”

The room went completely silent.

Several students glanced at me with mixed expressions—disdain, irritation, discomfort.

I smiled bitterly at myself.

That had been a practice test from a top provincial school. Last year, many of its questions appeared in the real exam.

Our teacher had gone out of her way to bring it to us to help improve our scores.

I was afraid no one else would know, so I contacted them one by one.

What I thought was responsibility—they saw as meddling.

What I thought was helping—they viewed as a nuisance.

I realized then how little they understood, how easily they twisted intentions.

This time, I wouldn’t try to be the hero.

Let them drink.

Let them celebrate.

Let them face the consequences they so eagerly invited.

I would choose myself.

This life, I would not waste it on people who never truly saw me.

Ethan raised his eyebrows. “Maybe this time she’ll call your parents again and tattle.”

I finally snapped. “I’m not that idle.”

I forced down the fury rising in my chest. “I swear—I won’t interfere, I won’t call anyone. Okay? I just want to go home, rest, and take the exam properly tomorrow.”

I reached for my bag, but he yanked it from me.

“What are you doing?!” I shouted, panic crashing over me.

In the next second, he pulled out my admission ticket and held it up high.

My face went pale. I lunged at him. “You’re insane! Give it back!”

Ethan dangled the ticket just out of reach, like taunting a kitten. “I don’t trust you. Now that I’ve got this, you won’t try anything stupid. Don’t ruin Sophie’s birthday.”

My eyes burned with tears as my voice cracked. “Ethan, you bastard!”

The hatred in my eyes startled him. His expression faltered, and his voice softened:

“As long as you don’t rat us out, I’ll give it back. Didn’t we promise to go to the same university? Of course I’ll return it to you.”

“Just don’t mess up Sophie’s 18th birthday.”

I stared at him, heart sinking like a stone.

Eighteen years of childhood memories.

But my future meant less to him than Sophie’s birthday party.

I trembled, silently watching him.

He avoided my gaze, then gave a casual smile and turned to the others.

“Crisis averted. Everyone, enjoy the night.”

Sophie immediately wrapped herself around him, her voice sweet and delicate.

“Thank you, Ethan. This is the best birthday gift I’ve ever received.”

His ears turned red, but he didn’t push her away. Instead, he gently played with a strand of her hair.

“As long as you’re happy,” he said.

The class erupted in cheers, the noise nearly shaking the roof.

“Best gift isn’t the party, it’s clearly our class monitor, right?”

“Hey, we’re all officially adults tonight. A kiss wouldn’t hurt!”

Ethan chuckled. “Cut it out.”

But the flicker in his eyes was unmistakable.

I stood in the corner, watching it all unfold, my nails digging so hard into my palms I nearly drew blood.

Laugh all you want.

Let’s see if you’re still laughing tomorrow during the exam.

I didn’t even bother to grab my schoolbag. I turned and walked out.

But they weren’t done with me.

Ethan’s voice rang out coldly: “Lock her in the gym.”

“Let her out after the party.”

I froze, eyes wide. “You’re insane! Let me go!”

Several boys grabbed me, twisted my arms behind my back, and dragged me toward the old gymnasium.

They flung me onto the ground—pain shot through my arm as blood scraped across the concrete.

Ethan hesitated for a second, but then his face hardened with resolve.

He picked up my phone and stomped on it until the screen went black.

“Don’t be petty,” he said flatly. “Just stay put. I’m the class monitor—I’m just helping the class enjoy the night. If it were your birthday, I’d do the same.”

“Just wait here. I’ll come get you later.”

Then he closed the door.

The heavy iron slammed shut. Darkness swallowed me whole.

I lay there, calling for help until my throat went raw.

Time passed—minutes, maybe hours—before footsteps echoed outside.

I scrambled up, desperate. “Help me—!”

The door creaked open.

It was Dad.

He rushed inside, eyes frantic, and pulled me into his arms.

“Sweetheart? What happened? I couldn’t reach you. I called Ethan, and he said you were at a party...”