No apocalipse, só eu no mundo não renasci

“Dorm leader, you woke me up in the middle of the night just to tell me you’ve been reborn?” Chu Xinghe stared at the man before him as if he were an idiot. Zhou Borin, a burly Northeasterner, was his college roommate and the leader of dorm room 303.

It was three in the morning. Just ten minutes ago, Zhou Borin had roused everyone in the dorm with urgent insistence that he had something of utmost importance to share. Suppressing his irritation at being woken, Chu Xinghe had sat down, expecting to hear what could possibly justify such a commotion. Zhou Borin, with grave sincerity, informed them that the end of the world was imminent, and that he had returned from two years in the future.

“Second, third, fourth, you have to believe me. I’m not lying. The strangeness is about to invade this world, and many people will die.” Zhou Borin clutched at his hair in anguish. He knew that what he was saying was outrageous, and it would be impossible to convince them in such a short time.

“I believe you, dorm leader.”

“I believe you too, dorm leader.”

“I know it’s hard to believe, but—huh?” Zhou Borin’s head snapped up to look at Second, Du Zijue, and Third, Chen Jiahao. This wasn’t at all how he imagined it would go. Shouldn’t they all doubt him, forcing him to perform a series of miraculous predictions until, finally, everyone was shocked and exclaimed, “Could you really have been reborn?” Then they’d unite to prevent the apocalypse—just like the rebirth novels he’d read.

“Wait, you’re just going to believe him? Are you two still half asleep?” No