Reborn to heal and take revenge

It was supposed to be just another school day.

But fate rarely respected schedules.

During the second period, just as Elara was organizing her notes in chemistry class, a sharp, guttural cry sliced through the corridor outside.

The class went still.

Then—

"Someone call a teacher! He's not breathing!"

Students rushed to the doorway. Elara remained seated, but her ears were sharp, focused.

Another voice shouted: "He collapsed! He hit the floor and started convulsing—"

The teacher bolted out.

And Elara's fingers tightened around her pen.

---

By the time she reached the hallway, a circle had formed around a body on the floor.

A boy — tall, second-year, unconscious. His lips were pale, his arms twitching slightly.

She recognized him. His name was Wei Jun.

Captain of the school's basketball team.

Healthy. Strong. Arrogant.

Now crumpled on the cold tiles like a discarded doll.

Two teachers hovered over him in panic. One was pressing down on his chest erratically, while another fumbled with a phone.

"He's seizing," someone murmured. "Call the ambulance!"

But they were doing it wrong.

Too slow. Too frantic.

Elara moved forward without a word.

The teachers noticed her but said nothing.

She crouched beside the boy and placed two fingers along the side of his neck.

Pulse: erratic. Too fast. No oxygen flow.

She tilted his head gently, then opened his collar.

"Don't touch him—!" a student gasped.

"Silence," she said calmly.

Then she reached into her bag.

She had started carrying emergency items weeks ago — small tools, antiseptic, gloves, powdered herbs in paper envelopes. Professor Ren had taught her that preparation was part of survival.

Her fingers moved quickly, but not recklessly.

She tapped the right pressure point beneath Wei Jun's jaw and another near his clavicle.

One of the teachers stared. "What are you—"

"He's choking on his own saliva," she said. "If we don't clear his airway, he'll asphyxiate before the ambulance arrives."

She pressed down hard, rotated her wrist, and Wei Jun jerked violently — coughing, gasping.

Then he vomited.

Right there, on the floor.

The crowd recoiled.

But the color returned to his face.

He started breathing again.

Alive.

---

When the ambulance arrived, Elara was already sitting against the wall, wiping her hands with a cloth.

The paramedics loaded the boy into the vehicle. One of them glanced at her.

"You're the one who stabilized him?"

She nodded.

"You're not a medic."

"Not officially," she said.

He didn't press further.

He simply nodded, as if he understood something most wouldn't.

---

The incident spread through the school like wildfire.

"She saved his life!"

"Did you see how calm she was?"

"Is she studying medicine already?"

"I thought she was just the weird Lin girl…"

By the end of the day, even the teachers treated her differently — not with warmth, but with caution.

Respect, maybe. But a reluctant one.

And Lina Zhou?

She didn't say a word.

But her stare from across the hallway was colder than ever.

---

At home, the story had already reached the Lin family.

Their father slammed the newspaper on the table.

"Elara. Come."

She entered the dining room slowly, calm as ever.

He pointed to the article: "Student Heroine Saves Teammate's Life — Future Doctor in the Making?"

"This," he growled, "this kind of attention brings nothing but trouble. Do you want reporters at our door?"

"I didn't invite them," she replied.

"You acted without consulting a teacher!"

"He was dying. I acted."

Meilin scoffed. "Always so dramatic."

"And you," their mother hissed, "you think being in the spotlight makes you special? Just because you touched a boy and he didn't die?"

Elara looked directly at her.

"I don't need to be special. I just don't want to be like the rest of you."

The silence was instant.

Then her father's hand struck the table — loud, but not daring enough to touch her.

"Get out," he said.

She did.

---

Later that night, Elara stood in her room, washing her hands in the sink, the scent of herbal oil still on her skin.

She looked at her reflection.

For a brief moment, it wasn't just her face she saw.

It was his.

The boy from her dreams.

The one she once promised she'd heal.

"I'll find you," she whispered to no one. "But first… I'll fix everything else."