Parallel World 2015 AD, autumn in Tokyo, Japan.

Zhang Zifan, who slowly opened his heavy eyes, was extremely groggy in his mind. At this time, he first looked at the ceiling, and then at the surroundings as far as he could see. Suddenly realizing that this was not a familiar home, with a little panic and anxiety in a strange environment, with human instinct, he hurriedly turned over and sat up.

Zhang Zifan, who looked at the large and small furnishings in the room over and over again, unconsciously pressed down with the palm of his left hand, and immediately felt a good soft feeling. Afraid of growth, cranky, and insecure in his heart, he couldn't help but think that under his body was a hideous-looking, bloodthirsty, and terrifying monster.

Zhang Zifan, who could completely hear the sound of his heartbeat and broke out in a lot of cold sweat all over his body, raised his heart to his throat. After hesitating for a while, he slowly looked down and looked again, and found that under his body there was no monster that could eat people, but all tatami mats made of the ground.

Zhang Zifan, who breathed a sigh of relief, stopped in cold sweat, and immediately returned to his original position with a very worried heart, and noticed that the room he was in was particularly messy and messy. Not only that, but it is also a Japanese-style house with a long history of decoration and furnishings. The size of the room is not large, only about 10 square meters.

Zhang Zifan, who felt that the whole person was not good for a while, curled up and held his head with both hands, looking very painful, after all, all this was wrong. How did you get here? He tried to recall, but when he found the right answer, his mood was extremely low. He committed suicide by jumping off a building, nor was he hit by a car, but died suddenly of angina.

Zhang Zifan's mind is full of chaos, and he doesn't know what he should do next? Just when he was entangled and painful, time naturally would not stay for him for an extra second, but would only follow its inherent rules, and little by little it began to pass silently and inadvertently from everyone's side.

I don't know how long it has passed, Zhang Zifan, who thought about it, gave birth to a good attitude of facing it calmly. Even if he is reluctant not to accept the reality of the current situation, he is powerless to make the slightest change. Instead of wasting time on things that you can't do anything about, it's better to focus on what you can do now.

So, Zhang Zifan, who wanted to open and understand, stood up from the tatami mat, rummaged around, and began to search for the mirror he wanted. Now I always have to figure out whether he is still him, a simple and philosophical problem. After a lot of effort, he finally found a small round mirror under a book in the corner.

Zhang Zifan, who was showing joy, held the mirror tightly with both hands, but did not take care of it at the first time. Once again, he hesitated and worried, and in his heart he definitely hoped that the person who appeared in the mirror was still himself. But who can guarantee that what they think will be the same as what actually happens?

Zhang Zifan, who gritted his teeth and had a horizontal heart, had a long pain that was better than a short pain, and the ugly daughter-in-law always wanted to see her in-laws, so she once again had to muster up the courage and pointed the mirror in her hands at her face. Impatient, mixed with timidity and uneasiness, he made an easy thing to complicate in particular.

When he took it up, he saw Zhang Zifan in the mirror who was not his original familiar big cake face, but saw a pair of eyes with deep sunken eye sockets, heavy dark circles, nose and mouth are not big or small, and the shape is good, the face is thin, the face is pale, and there is no luster, completely similar to the appearance of an addict.

Changing from the left hand to the right hand, and from the right hand to the left hand, I pinched it, and touched my own Zhang Zifan, who was very strange and a new face, and the first reaction was that his soul somehow occupied the body of this stranger? Unconsciously took two steps back, he sat on the ground, and the prototype mirror in his hand also slipped down to the tatami next to his body, and for such a change, he really didn't know whether to be happy or sad?

In short, fortunately in the misfortune, although he died, he got an unexpected chance to be reborn. It was still a man's body, he had not undergone degeneration and transformation, there were no bulging lumps of flesh on his chest, and the very important thing between his legs had not disappeared. For this reason, there seems to be nothing dissatisfied. At the same time, the two memories in this body have unconsciously begun to merge towards becoming one.

Zhang Zifan, who approached the short square table, picked up an empty bottle of sleeping pills on the table with his right hand, and realized that the original owner of his body had committed suicide by swallowing a large amount of sleeping pills. Sitting cross-legged, he casually set aside the empty bottle in his hand, thus focusing his eyes on the open laptop.

I never thought that I would completely master the Japanese here, and I saw a suicide note on the computer screen. The full meaning of the above is that the reason why Takeshita Kusaoke, who dreams of becoming a writer, chose to commit suicide is because of his efforts again and again, but he can only fail again and again. The last straw crushed the donkey's back, and he could no longer bear the failure of a star and a half, he had no attachment in life, only pain in life, life was better than death, and he embarked on a road of no return full of characteristics in line with the character of the Japanese.

Fortunately, Zhang Zifan, who had been embarrassed for a while, fell into a dilemma again. If Takeshita doesn't die, he won't be able to be reborn if he doesn't do it himself. And his rebirth suddenly became an out-and-out Japanese. Zhang Zifan was born with a great love for the expressive art of words, and he also has an innate affection for writers.

Regardless of the nationality, color, or race of the other party...... As long as you can write good works, you are amazing and have contributed to the progress of mankind. Although he has never written, he has an almost inhuman talent. His head contained 3,000 Chinese and foreign novels he had read, and he could recite them all word for word.

Zhang Zifan's right hand was placed on the mouse, and he slowly moved it under the palm of his hand, so that he clicked the "X" key at the top right of the computer screen. Immediately, a window pops up whether you want to save or not. Without hesitation, he clicked the "no" button, and from this moment on, he was no longer Zhang Zifan, but the reborn Takeshita grass mustard.