“林枫，你这字写得真是惨不忍睹啊，重写！”班主任王老师的唾沫星子几乎喷到了我的脸上。我嘴角抽搐了一下，低头看着自己那龙飞凤舞的“林枫”二字——与其说是写字，不如说是用笔在纸上胡乱涂抹。 Not that I blame her, my penmanship has always been a disaster.

I sighed and picked up the pencil, ready to start the endless cycle of rewriting. This was my third time in a row. The same grades, the same class, the same teacher, and the same teacher's scolding.

But this time, something was different.

I suddenly remembered everything. Not just this life, but the previous ones as well. The times I had failed, the times I had succeeded, the times I had been born and died. It was like I had a library of lives stored in my head, each one a different story.

"You're going to fail this class again if you don't focus, Lin Feng," Wang teacher said, her voice tinged with exasperation.

"I know, I know," I mumbled, but inside, a different voice was speaking. It was the voice of a man who had lived a thousand lives, a man who knew what was coming.