1. The air conditioning is not under my control.

"It's time to buy an electric fan."

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In July, Rong City was nothing short of a giant steamer.

Early in the morning, Li An was once again woken by the heat.

He felt as though he’d let down the entire army of transmigrators from Blue Star.

He’d been on Earth for two whole months, yet he’d received no system.

Nor had he achieved the freedom of air conditioning.

Thinking he’d go buy a fan after work, Li An crawled out of bed, grabbed his phone, and stumbled into his less-than-two-square-meter private bathroom.

The place was cramped, but at least it was even more run-down.

He put on a song he’d been listening to recently and tossed his phone into a black plastic bag hanging on the wall.

“Take Five” actually was a good match for a shower.

In the cracked mirror, the showerhead, suffering from a urinary tract infection, dripped feebly. But with the four-five rhythm echoing through the steamy air, even the water’s fall seemed to gain a peculiar cadence.

Such was life—every penny counted, and sometimes you had to find your own amusements.

Li An loved life; he also loved music. Since he was a child, he’d been enamored with the piano.

Though the dream of becoming a pianist had been dashed by reality as he grew up, he was content to work as a piano teacher.

A pianist and a piano teacher—rounding up, the difference wasn’t so great.

The piano had once been his means of survival. It still was.

In this world, whose politics, economics, culture, and history mirrored Blue Star almost entirely, his only real skill remained piano performance.

In that, he was much like the body’s original owner.

Both had graduated from a proper conservatory with a degree in piano.

But after graduation, their paths had diverged dramatically.

Li An, in less than three years after college, had saved up 150,000 yuan through teaching piano and taking on gigs.

He’d planned to wait until he’d saved 200,000 to study abroad.

The original owner, on the other hand, refused to return home or look for work. He spent his days playing games in his rented room and his nights idly wandering the streets.

No income, and even greater expenses.

Thus, Li An had passively inherited 80,100 yuan of personal debt accumulated by the original owner over the past two years.

Sixty-five thousand had come from juggling credit lines on various apps; the rest was borrowed from classmates and friends.

Starting life anew meant paying off debt—there was no time to lose.

To be honest, Li An had considered asking the original owner’s father for help.

But he couldn’t bring himself to do it.

The original owner’s family background was the same as his own—a modest, single-income family from a tiny county town. Raising an art student in such circumstances was no easy feat; anyone who’d lived through it would understand the parents’ struggle.

In the memory of the original owner, his parents had always believed he’d found a respectable job after college and was living the sort of life in Rong City that neighbors would envy.

In reality, two and a half years after graduation, he had no job and was 80,000 in debt.

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Li An could imagine all too well how the two elders would react if the truth came out.

He simply couldn’t bear it.

So, that was that—he put the idea aside.

Life had to move forward.

And so, with all his worldly possessions amounting to 250 yuan, Li An stepped into his first “instance” at Earth Station—the journey to repay his debts.

Step one: solve the immediate problem of making a living.

Of all the day-labor jobs he could think of, part-time piano player was what he knew best.

After four days of reconnaissance, Li An selected seven Western restaurants of varying styles across Rong City’s downtown.

He approached the managers directly, promoting himself, and landed two interview opportunities.

With years of performance experience and a rich repertoire, after a week’s probation at both places, both were quite satisfied with him.

After some negotiation, he chose the one that paid slightly more.

Every Monday, Wednesday, Friday, and Sunday, from 7:30 to 9:00 p.m.

Two hundred yuan per shift, plus dinner.

Step two: find a stable income.

With his immediate meals secured, Li An threw himself into the noble field of education.

Once more relying on solid professional skills and teaching experience, after two rounds of interviews, he landed a full-time job as a piano teacher at a major music training institution in Rong City.

A three-month probation, to be converted to full employee with social insurance after half a year.

At these private arts institutions, aside from a guaranteed base salary, actual earnings depended on teaching hours.

The more lessons, the more pay.

For now, Li An had only three students, but with the base salary, it was at least a steady income.

So it was that, fifty days after arriving on Earth, Li An’s total earnings amounted to 6,480 yuan.

3,200 from part-time gigs, 2,500 from the base salary during probation, plus 65 per lesson per student, three students, four lessons each.

He budgeted 680 for daily expenses and deposited 500 in the bank.

The remaining 5,300 went to repay two debts.

The first, 2,800, settled the month’s credit app balances.

The second, 2,500, repaid two old classmates—2,300 in principal, with an extra 100 each as interest.

“Much better.”

After a refreshing cold shower, Li An, still damp, headed to the kitchen and ate some steamed buns and pickled vegetables with last night’s leftover porridge.

Life had been frugal these past two months, but seeing the debt shrink, Li An began to feel hope.

He was even daring to think about buying a fan.

After feeding the cat and changing the litter, Li An brushed the fur off his pants and got ready to leave.

The orange tabby, much like the credit app, was his reward for transmigrating.

He’d renamed “Eight Thousand” from “Lucky Draw Win”—the old name didn’t sit right with him.

“I’m off to work. If you pee out of place again, once I get that fan and free up my hands, I’ll have your balls snipped,” he warned.

---

Watching Li An point at him, Eight Thousand stretched out a paw lazily, then leapt from the side of the bed to the windowsill to bask in the sun once more.

Such was life.

The Blue Sky Center for the Promotion of High Art was Li An’s daytime employer.

The center had been entrenched in Rong City for over twenty years, expanding from a single campus to four, now firmly holding the local industry’s top spot.

Li An worked at the Yudong Campus, the second largest, located on the ninth floor of an office building in a bustling old neighborhood.

From his apartment to work, it took just forty minutes by bus.

At 7:55 a.m., he arrived punctually at the building’s entrance.

“Good morning, Sister Mei. You’re looking even better today,” he greeted Wang Meili, the front desk receptionist, who was recovering from a serious illness, as he stepped out of the elevator on the ninth floor.

“My husband made these buns yesterday—want to try one?” Wang Meili smiled, waving the food in her hand.

Since joining the company, Li An had greeted her every day when he got off the elevator. Over time, they’d grown familiar.

Just recently, she’d had surgery, and among all the teachers, Li An was the most attentive.

As a humble receptionist, Wang Meili didn’t think she was anyone to be flattered. Teacher Li was simply kind-hearted and sweet-tongued.

“Thank you, but you enjoy them. I have to get to class,” Li An declined politely and clocked in before heading to the teaching area.

Early July meant final exams were near, and the Yudong Campus had been much quieter the past two weeks.

Most students were on leave at home, preparing for their school finals. The hall was missing much of its usual laughter, as well as many parents.

Also missing was the distinctive scent of elementary students.

Passing by Piano Room Two, Li An again heard Lin Pengfei boasting to a student inside.

“Back when your teacher was studying in Germany, I once practiced piano for sixteen hours straight in a single day! Can you imagine that?”

Li An certainly couldn’t. He hadn’t made it abroad yet, but from what he’d heard of Lin Pengfei’s playing, it probably wasn’t much better than his own.

Stopping at Room Three, Li An pushed the door open.

Inside, Wang Xiaohu was already seated at the piano, waiting.

“Class is starting.”

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P.S.

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