In 1999, Xijiang City.

North of Xiguan Village.

On National Highway 223, a sheer cliff rose on the left, and on the right was a steep slope dropping away at roughly a forty-five-degree angle.

Down below that slope, a Santana lay upside down, its frame visibly twisted, every window blown out. Inside, both front airbags had deployed. The driver had collapsed over the center console, completely unconscious.

In the back seat, a woman was slumped to one side. The warped body of the car had pinned her hard between the seats. Her white blouse was soaked and speckled with blood.

One look was enough to tell anyone this crash had been brutal.

The license plate belonged to the Nanguan District Government of Xijiang City.

Booth Sterling opened his eyes.

His head buzzed like a broken machine. Every bone in his body felt as if it had been crushed under a wheel, the pain so sharp that cold sweat instantly broke out across his forehead.

He forced himself to take a few slow breaths. Even though the pain in his chest and abdomen was bad enough to make him want to curl up on the spot, the wrecked Santana in front of him still made him freeze for a second.

Because this scene felt way too familiar.

“What the hell is going on? Why does this look exactly like that car crash from twenty-three years ago?”

Booth tried hard to focus on what he was seeing. But the fierce pain tearing through his body made one thing crystal clear: as unbelievable as it was, this was real. Dead real.

“Wasn’t I already dead?”

“Don’t tell me... I got a do-over?”

Twenty-three years earlier, twenty-four-year-old Booth Sterling had just graduated from the Chinese Department of Xida University. Through family connections, he had been placed into the government office of Nanguan District. Less than a month after starting work, he had lucked into a golden opportunity and been picked by the newly appointed deputy district mayor as her full-time liaison.

At the time, his life had looked like it was finally taking off.

Who would’ve guessed that one sudden car accident would smash that good fortune to pieces?

One second he was riding high, the next he was flat on the ground, absolutely wrecked.

June 28, 1999.

Booth had accompanied the newly appointed Deputy District Mayor Genevieve Blackwood on an inspection trip to Xiaguan Village. The regular government driver had taken leave that day, so Booth had been the one driving.

Then the brakes failed.

The car slammed into the cliff.

Because of the airbag, Booth’s injuries hadn’t been too severe. But Genevieve Blackwood had not been rescued in time. She died from the crash.

Technically, the rollover wasn’t Booth’s fault.

But when something this serious happened, someone always had to pay the price. Someone had to wear the blame.

And Booth became that unlucky guy.

He was transferred out of the Nanguan District Government office and sent to the Xijiang Daily, where he spent his days as a sidelined proofreader with no future and no real prospects.

“Looks like heaven really hasn’t given up on me,” Booth muttered, his voice hoarse and low. “So the goddess of luck didn’t ditch me after all... She actually gave me another shot.”

Bit by bit, he came back to himself.

Then he turned and looked toward the back.

At that moment, Genevieve Blackwood was still unconscious.

But she was not dead yet.

Later, after everything was over, Booth Sterling had read the investigation report more than once. Genevieve Blackwood hadn’t died on the spot. A broken rib had punched into her lung, fluid kept building up inside, and in the end, she’d suffocated alive.

“Bang!”

“Bang!”

The sound snapped Booth back to himself.

He lifted his leg and kicked the driver’s door open with all the strength he had left. Pain shot through his body so hard his vision went a little dark, but he still gritted his teeth and staggered to the back, grabbing the rear door and yanking on it like crazy.

“Creak—!”

The door was forced open by him, inch by inch.

Booth sucked in a deep breath, his eyes sweeping through the wrecked car at lightning speed. Then he turned around fast, climbed back toward the front, half-laying over the driver’s seat as he shoved one hand under the passenger seat.

“Please… just please let this manual seat adjustment still do something…”

“Ka-chik!”

The passenger seatback actually tilted forward.

“Ah… sss…”

As the backrest leaned, the pressure pinning Genevieve’s body eased. In her dazed state, she let out a faint, instinctive sound.

Her face was ghost-white.

Blood was smeared across her chest. There was a split in her scalp too, and thick, sticky blood had run everywhere, making the whole scene look brutal enough to make anyone’s scalp go numb.

After dragging her out, Booth dropped to the ground with a thud.

Genevieve lay flat on her back, unconscious. Her breathing was weak, barely there, but her vital signs were still stable for now.

“The first-aid kit… in the trunk…”

Government vehicles were usually stocked with emergency medical supplies in case something went sideways.

Right now, that was exactly what Booth needed.

This crash had happened because the brakes failed.

But even so, Booth had carried the guilt for a whole lifetime.

After learning the real cause of Genevieve’s death, he’d gone to a doctor friend whenever he had time and learned emergency treatment bit by bit. Since he knew she had died from a rib piercing the lung, he’d specifically studied the small surgical procedure for handling that kind of injury.

He had practiced it over and over, countless times.

He just never thought there would actually come a day when he’d have to use it for real.

His hand shook as he reached out.

Booth pressed his lips together, held his breath, and started undoing the buttons on Genevieve’s clothes.

Then he removed her bra.

He had to use the knife to slice open the skin about three inches below Genevieve Blackwood’s armpit, then drain the fluid out through the tube.

“Tss…”

Booth Sterling sucked in a sharp breath. In front of him, it wasn’t just blood anymore—there was that blinding patch of pale skin too.

Her skin was soft and smooth, almost absurdly fair, like fresh milk. It was the kind of sight that could mess with a man’s focus in a split second.

Booth shut his eyes and drew a long breath, forcing himself to calm down. He pressed those stray thoughts back into place, then lifted the sterilized knife and got ready.

The blade came down and cut through that tender white skin.

Deputy District Chief Blackwood’s brows instantly pulled tight from the pain, and after a moment, her eyes slowly opened.