Chapter 3

Countless times I cried for help, and not a single person believed me.

Including my husband, Gu Yisheng.

He is a university physics professor. During my second rebirth, in panic and helplessness, I called him and told him about my bizarre experience.

He laughed and asked, “Are you trying to write a story about parallel worlds this time?”

To earn more money, my side job is writing novels on a platform. Occasionally, I would share my ideas with him, and when I was in a good mood, I would joke around by role-playing the characters.

He is gentle, patient, and a very good listener.

With a sob in my voice, I said, “Yisheng, I swear I’m not lying to you. I’ve already died twice, and I’m afraid I’ll have to die again!”

He laughed out loud, “Not bad, your acting is pretty convincing this time.”

“I have thesis defenses all day today, my phone will be off. When I get home tonight, you can act it out for me again.”

Every time, I only managed to talk to him for two minutes before he hurriedly hung up. If I called again, his phone would be off.

Later, I was trapped in the fear and struggle of death, never finding a way to make him believe me.

On my thirty-first rebirth, I realized I couldn’t change the cycle, so I proactively chose a relatively less painful way to die-at noon, twelve o’clock, I opened the company window and jumped straight down.

It’s not that I didn’t want to live a little longer, but if I delayed, the manner of death would become uncontrollable.

That feeling of being on edge, not knowing when death would arrive, was even more tormenting!

So, from nine to twelve each day, I had a three-hour window of brief survival.

I created an Excel spreadsheet to record the time and manner of each death.

Most of the time, I ignored everyone, quietly sitting and thinking.

On my fiftieth rebirth, a question suddenly occurred to me: Why was Yisheng’s first reaction to think of parallel worlds?