Reborn back to 1996, the chubby little Emma Bennett, age four, knocked on the door across the hall.

Behind that door lived a catastrophic devil from twenty years in the future.

The devil, Charles Page, is now five years old, paralyzed from the waist down, introverted and self-abasing.

Later, when they are seventeen.

Emma Bennett becomes the school beauty of the high school division.

Charles Page, with a cold face, grips his wheelchair tightly and warns her, “Don’t say you like me again, or else…”

Emma Bennett wraps her arms around his neck and smiles sweetly at him.

Charles Page can’t help but hold her waist, his repressed emotions crumbling.

After being the love of his life for two lifetimes, Emma Bennett wants to know what the devil’s body temperature is like.

Chapter 1: Back to Age Four

In the summer of 1996, a strong wind knocked down the young bamboo, and a group of four- and five-year-old children widened their eyes to watch the small hailstones falling from the sky.

“It’s popsicle ice! You can eat it!”

The children cheered and rushed to catch the hail with their little hands.

Little Mr. Clark was busy changing the pants of a boy in the corner. The little boy’s eyes were lifeless as he stared at the yellow urine on his pants and under the wheelchair, not making a sound.

Seeing the kids outside the classroom picking up hailstones to taste, Little Mr. Clark, afraid something bad would happen, didn’t even bother that the black-haired boy’s pants were half off and hurried to bring the children back inside.

Only four little boys were left in the classroom, along with a little girl in the front row sleeping with a fever.

Among the boys, there was a chubby one named Henry Brooks, who, just like his name, looked robust and healthy, with two rosy patches on his chubby cheeks, bigger than the other kids.

Henry Brooks rolled his eyes, originally watching the unfamiliar hail outside, but being close, he caught a whiff of urine. He sniffed and turned around; Charles Page on the wheelchair was trying to pull up his pants.

Unfortunately, his legs below the knees were empty, so he couldn’t even use them for leverage.

After a long while, he could only barely pull up the urine-soaked pants to cover his private parts.

Henry Brooks looked at the urine on the floor and, in a sharp, incredulous child’s voice, said, “Look! Charles Page peed his pants! It’s all over the floor.”

The other boys in the classroom all turned around, covering their mouths.

“He’s so dirty!”

“I saw it just now, Mr. Clark was changing his pants!”

“He’s still wearing those pants, look where he peed, ew!”

A flush of shame spread across Charles Page’s pale, thin face. He bit his lip and suddenly pulled down a picture book to cover the wet, stiff spot. He trembled, his eyes looking toward the teacher outside the kindergarten.

Little Mr. Clark came in carrying the last child and scolded the kids, “That’s called hail, you can’t eat it! The teacher will call your parents to pick you up later!”

Afraid the kids wouldn’t listen, she put on a stern face and said, “If you eat hail, you’ll never grow tall again!”

At these words, several children immediately turned pale, their eyes filling with tears, and burst out crying.

“Teacher, will I never grow tall again…”

Little Mr. Clark said, “Of course not. Just eat more rice when you go home tonight and you’ll be fine.”

The innocent children broke into smiles through their tears.

But sometimes innocence is the cruelest. The chubby boy pointed at Charles Page with his radish-like finger: “Mr. Clark, Charles Page peed his pants!”

At these words, Little Mr. Clark remembered that the boy in the corner’s pants were only half on. But the chubby boy shouted so loudly that everyone in the class heard.

Charles Page trembled, big tears rolling down his face. He didn’t mean to, he didn’t mean to…

For a moment, the children’s naive voices filled the air.

“I stopped wetting my pants when I was three!”

“Mom says kids who pee their pants are dirty.”

“Charles Page has no legs, and he still pees his pants. We won’t play with him anymore!”

“If you play with him, you’ll pee your pants too!”

…

The noisy chatter finally woke the little girl with a fever in the front row.

Her cheeks were flushed, her long lashes trembled, and she opened her misty eyes.

A wild wind blew, tossing her two pigtails. Emma Bennett blinked dully, her breath hot. This frail body had no strength. She clearly remembered dying, so how…

She lowered her eyes, sat up from the little round table, and looked at her soft, dimpled, fair little hands.

Behind her, countless people were shouting Charles Page’s name. Emma Bennett caught her breath, turning back in disbelief.

The faded scenes in her memory suddenly became vivid, and Little Mr. Clark was only twenty-six this year, carrying the gentleness and vitality of a young female teacher.

And the children, united in hostility, looked at the small figure in the corner with disgust.

Through the crowd, Emma Bennett could only see the big wheels of the wheelchair, and the stiff little body of the child sitting in it.