Chapter 3: After Rebirth

Cries of alarm and screams erupted simultaneously within the cabin. Clearly, no one had anticipated such a sudden jolt. Fortunately, after that abrupt shake, the plane quickly regained its stability. He Jie scrambled up from the floor, reaching to touch the spot on his head where he’d struck it. His fingertips came away wet and warm—there was no doubt he was bleeding.

Moments later, a flight attendant hurried past the lavatory door, panic evident in her movements, and entered the intercom room to call the captain. He Jie’s position was separated from the intercom room by only a wall, so he managed to catch snatches of the tense, fragmented conversation.

“…monster… blood…”

“…left engine damaged… still able to fly…”

“…calm the passengers…”

Soon, the serene voice of the flight attendant echoed through the plane: “Ladies and gentlemen, please remain calm. The turbulence just now was due to an unexpected air current, but we have safely passed through it. Please rest assured! You are now on China International Airline flight CA576 from Jincheng to Australia. The total flight time is approximately ten hours and twenty-five minutes, with nine hours and twelve minutes remaining. If you feel unwell due to the recent turbulence, please call for assistance immediately…”

After finishing the announcement, the flight attendant exited the intercom room, hurrying toward the front of the plane. As she passed the lavatory, she noticed He Jie slumped on the floor, blood still streaming from his head. Shocked, she rushed into the restroom to support him. “Sir, are you hurt?”

He Jie, however, did not respond in the slightest. He simply stared blankly at her.

He Jie had no mind to care about the minor wound on his head; inside, his thoughts were a raging storm. The plane had been hit, the flight attendant's announcement, his head bloodied—all of it had been foretold by that young man. Could he truly see the future? And if so, did it mean the apocalypse he spoke of was about to descend on Earth…?

After speaking with He Jie, Kong Zhe left the restroom and returned straight to his seat. He wasn’t worried that He Jie would try to shoot him—he already had the magazine from He Jie’s pistol tucked safely inside his own sock. As for whether He Jie would believe what he’d said, Kong Zhe had no doubt; he knew the man well. He Jie was suspicious by nature, and valued his sister and wife above even his own life. He would believe.

To the other passengers, nothing out of the ordinary had occurred in the lavatory. To them, Kong Zhe had simply gone to the restroom. The timing was perfectly inconspicuous.

Kong Zhe fastened his seatbelt the moment he returned to his seat, preparing for the turbulence that was about to come. As he did so, he happened to notice the person sitting beside him. On his right sat a plain-looking girl with braided hair. Kong Zhe didn’t know her name, but she was familiar. In his previous life, when the plane crashed, this girl had, in her last moments, given him a gentle push—an act of kindness that saved him from the worst of the explosion’s blast. Because of that, he felt a certain fondness toward her. Noticing her seatbelt was unfastened, he didn’t have time to explain; he quickly reached over and buckled it for her.

To the girl, however, Kong Zhe was nothing more than a complete stranger, and the sudden physical contact as he fastened her belt made her tense up. She looked at him nervously, arms crossed over her chest, like a frightened animal—clearly mistaking him for a lecher.

Kong Zhe paid her no mind, simply offering her a gentle smile.

Almost at that very moment, the plane lurched violently, sending every passenger pitching forward. Those who had fastened their seatbelts fared well enough, while those who hadn’t, or had done so carelessly, slammed hard into the seats in front of them. Some who were eating fared even worse—cake smeared across their faces, red wine soaking their clothes.

Kong Zhe and the girl beside him were unharmed, thanks to their seatbelts. The girl was startled, but otherwise fine.

Kong Zhe, having known this jolt was coming, remained perfectly composed. Yet he couldn’t help but feel a pang of regret—if only the captain had not concealed the truth about the turbulence, this could have been a perfect warning for what was to come. But it was hard to blame him; honesty might have sparked panic throughout the cabin.

Kong Zhe’s knowledge of these events didn’t come from prophecy—it was because he had lived them already. He was a man reborn, and everything that was happening now, he had once experienced. Nearly everything he’d told He Jie was true, save for one critical detail: in the original history, not everyone died in the crash. Two people survived—He Jie and Kong Zhe himself.

He Jie had survived thanks to his skills and assassin’s instincts, though in the end, his legs were crushed by a steel beam. As for Kong Zhe—ordinary in every way, back then—he’d survived by sheer, miraculous luck, emerging not only alive, but unscathed.