Chapter 8: The Girl with the High Ponytail

After finishing his shower, Han Ling used a towel to dry his hair, his gaze lingering on the stranger reflected in the bathroom cabinet mirror.

"I feel... not as handsome as before, do I?"

A strange body and a strange face—the situation still felt too surreal for Han Ling to fully accept. He stared at the mirror for a moment, then set the towel aside, instinctively reaching for a hair dryer that wasn't there.

"Too poor. Can't even afford a hair dryer."

Come to think of it, wasn't Xiaomi set to release its phone in two years? As domestic phones entered the era of intelligence, he wondered if it was too late to find Lei Jun for an investment—not that it mattered; he didn't have the money anyway.

Based on his memories, this world didn't differ much from his previous life. It was likely a case of the parallel universe theory. Regardless, it was definitely not the world he had known before. Han Ling cared about this, as he had had too many enemies in his past life; even with a new identity, he couldn't help but act with extreme caution.

Rubbing his messy hair, Han Ling left the bathroom, crossed the living room, and stepped onto the balcony. A breeze brushed past, bringing a slight chill. He lit a cigarette, feeling the nicotine explode in his lungs as he glanced toward the street below. His apartment was on the southernmost side of the complex, offering a clear view of the street.

He hadn't forgotten the feeling of being followed earlier. In his view, given the background and experiences of "Han Ling," it was likely a hallucination, but a small possibility remained. It was best to be careful in his daily life. A new life in a new world—caution was best.

After finishing the cigarette, he returned to the bedroom and turned off the lights. He was exhausted. He had been tired in his past life, and he was tired now, but at least he could finally sleep soundly without the fear of someone holding a gun to his head in the middle of the night.

He slept soundly. When he opened his eyes, it was already past nine in the morning. After washing up and grabbing a quick breakfast at a nearby shop, he rode his bike to an internet café. With time on his hands, his goal was simple: verify his memories and gather information.

The internet café industry in 2009 was in its prime. The market was vast, though growth had begun to slow as it neared its peak. In a few years, the rise of smartphones and mobile internet would gradually lead to its decline.

Pushing open the door, he was hit by a mixture of sweat, food, and secondhand smoke, with a faint, lingering stench from the restrooms. The place was packed, mostly with students and young men and women.

It was only ten in the morning, shortly after the all-night crowd had cleared out, but there were still so many people. It must be the weekend; if he had arrived any later, there wouldn't have been a terminal left.

"Five dollars' worth," Han Ling said to the front desk, handing over a purple banknote.

The attendant, a cute girl, was engrossed in *Fantasy Westward Journey*. Without looking at him, she took the money, swiped a magnetic card on the machine, and tossed a five-dollar slip onto the desk without asking for his ID. The enforcement of real-name registration was still in its early stages and took time, especially in small, independent cafés.

Han Ling took the slip, found a seat nearby, and logged in. The seat to his left was empty, while the guy to his right—a youth with a streak of yellow hair—was playing *CrossFire*. He appeared to be on the terrorist side on the "Dust II" map, occasionally hurling insults at his teammates.

"The bomb is dropped at B-site! What the hell are you doing creeping around at A-site?!"

His teammate in the headset seemed to be firing back, triggering a stream of creative profanity from the yellow-haired guy that lasted for over ten seconds without a single repetition. He was a veteran. In an internet café, such shouting was normal; no one cared, as everyone was busy with their own affairs.

Han Ling lit a cigarette, scanned his desktop, and opened a web browser. Maps and major news events were his primary targets to build a framework of understanding. He had plenty of time to learn about this world.

By 11:30, a sudden stir rippled through the café. Han Ling glanced up to see many men whispering, their eyes fixed on the front desk. Even the women were intrigued. The yellow-haired guy to his right reflexively turned his head, his eyes widening so much he stopped playing, and his character was quickly headshot in-game.

"Holy shit!" the yellow-haired guy exclaimed.

Han Ling, confused, turned to look as well. He realized the guy's exclamation wasn't an insult, but a genuine expression of awe—a tribute to the girl's beauty.

At the front desk, a girl wearing jeans and a loose white T-shirt was paying for her session. From the side, her silhouette was striking. Standing over 1.7 meters tall, with long, straight legs and a shapely figure, she stood out even through the loose clothing.

"Thank you."

The girl turned after receiving her slip, revealing a stunning face with a perfect, soft oval shape. Her high ponytail swung, carrying both a mature air and a playful, youthful charm. Even the cute girl at the front desk couldn't help but stare. A girl of this caliber was rare; she was the kind one only saw on television or online.

Han Ling raised an eyebrow, silently acknowledging her beauty, and returned to his browsing. The other men found it impossible to look away, opting to sneak glances if they couldn't stare openly.

The girl with the ponytail scanned the café before finding a seat. As she bent down, the crescent-shaped necklace at her throat swayed. Han Ling caught a faint scent of perfume, mingled with a natural fragrance. He turned to find the girl sitting in the seat to his left.

A wave of disappointment washed over the other men in the room; Han Ling could practically hear their sighs. A beautiful girl was always the center of attention. Even the yellow-haired guy looked dejected. He had an empty seat to his right, but she had chosen to sit next to Han Ling—perhaps it was just the proximity, or perhaps Han Ling looked like less of a threat.

The girl sat down, but instead of playing games, she opened a browser, just like Han Ling. He had no interest in her motives and kept his eyes fixed on his screen.

He had confirmed that his new memories were accurate. He was, in every sense, a man with a new identity in a world 99% identical to his previous one.

Finally, he could safely begin his new life.

"Excuse me, sorry to bother you," the girl beside him suddenly spoke, pointing to her screen. "My login keeps failing. Could you help me take a look?"

As she spoke, the distracted yellow-haired guy made a mistake and his character died again. He had taken off his headset the moment she sat down, likely trying to keep track of her. Like him, the other men in the café shot envious glares at Han Ling. If she had sat next to them, they would have been the ones talking to her.

If they could help her, they might have even exchanged contact information. The odds of encountering a girl like this in daily life were slim, let alone having an interaction.