Chapter 1

On my wedding day, I'd barely picked up the bride when the wedding car ran out of gas.

Terrified of missing the lucky hour, I grabbed a gas can, ran to the nearest station, and bought five hundred dollars' worth of fuel in one go.

But even with a full tank, the car made it barely a mile before it died again.

I thought the car was broken and called a mechanic right away.

He crawled underneath, checked for a long time, and told me there was nothing wrong with the car. It was just out of gas.

My fiancée, Autumn Yates, was crying so hard she couldn't stop.

"Caspar James, if you regret marrying me, just say it. Using an empty tank as an excuse, who exactly are you trying to insult?"

I hurried to explain and plead, humbling myself, and right in front of relatives from both families I refilled the tank six separate times.

But every time the gauge climbed to full, the car would go a few miles at most before the tank hit empty again.

A perfectly good wedding was ruined outright. The hotel canceled the banquet, and Autumn was so furious she called off the engagement.

Her younger brother posted the videos of me refueling over and over online, and everyone piled on, calling me a scheming man, a cheap dog.

I tried desperately to explain, desperately to prove myself, but the abuse only got worse.

Someone even threw red paint on my parents' front door, and the rage of it gave my father a heart attack.

Relatives and friends changed their stories one after another, saying they'd only seen me carrying a gas can and had no idea whether there was really gas inside.

Under wave after wave of cursing and blame, I fell into severe depression and threw myself off the roof of our wedding apartment.

When I opened my eyes again, I was back on my wedding day.

……

I jolted awake with a start. My mother was standing beside my bed.

"Get up already. Today is your big day, the day you get married."

She was just like last time, in a red qipao, her face glowing.

My nose stung, and I nearly wept.

Last time, all because of that cursed wedding car that would never hold any gas.

I was dogpiled online, my parents were mocked, and someone splashed paint on their door.

No matter how I explained, no matter what evidence I showed, not a single person believed me.

The rage gave my parents heart attacks. They were rushed to the hospital and couldn't be saved.

And I, in my despair, jumped from the building and died.

Remembering the tragedy of last time, I quickly grabbed my phone and called my fiancée.

"Autumn, let's postpone the wedding…"

Before I could finish, the other end exploded.

"Caspar James, you want to call it off?!"

"No, no, no, I don't want to call it off."

I was sweating from head to toe, not knowing how to explain.

Autumn was a good girl. Three years together, and she'd never once lost her temper, never once asked for an expensive gift.

I didn't want to give her up.

But if I told her straight out that I'd been reborn, I was afraid she'd think I was insane.

Caught in the bind, I suddenly caught sight of my mother's medical records on the desk.

My eyes lit up, and I rushed to explain into the phone.

"My appendix is acting up. It hurts really bad. I might need surgery. Let's push the wedding back two weeks."

Autumn's tone softened at once.

"How did your appendix just flare up out of nowhere? Get to the hospital and get checked right away. I'll handle explaining it to my parents."

Her words nearly moved me to tears.

I hung up, then made up some excuse to get my own parents to agree to delay the wedding.

Then I drove out alone in that same wedding car from the last life, to the gate of Autumn's apartment complex.

Last time, to make sure the wedding went smoothly, I had clearly filled the tank ahead of time.

But the moment I pulled out of her complex, the car started chiming its low-fuel warning.

This time, I wanted to see exactly what was going on.

The minutes ticked by, and it was almost the exact time when things had gone wrong last life.

I turned the key and started the car.

Just like before, the car had gone fifty meters when the low-fuel light came on again.

I didn't go buy gas myself the way I had last time. Instead, I opened the voice recorder on my phone and called roadside assistance.

"Hi, my car's out of gas. I need your help."

Before long, an assistance worker named Rhys Lambert showed up carrying a gas can.

Their work cameras were rolling, filming the whole thing from the first moment they saw me.

The tank filled up fast. I stopped Rhys as he was about to leave.

"My brakes felt a little off just now. Could you take a look for me?"

Not understanding what I was after, Rhys climbed into the car, turned the key, started it.

He rolled forward a meter, two meters… I stared at the fuel gauge without blinking.

Ten meters passed. The fuel level didn't change.

Twenty meters passed. Still no change.

Could it be that this time, because I hadn't gotten married, the fuel level stayed put?

The problem was in the wedding, not in the car?

Just as I was turning it over and getting nowhere, the car lurched hard.

Rhys turned his head. "Caspar, the brakes are fine."

"Huh?" I came back to myself and forced a smile at him. "Thank you…"

In that instant, the fuel needle spun from full straight down to zero.

Rhys went pale on the spot.

He checked frantically, front and back.

From the car to the road, there wasn't a single trace of gas anywhere.

As if the whole scene of us fueling up had been a hallucination.

"That's impossible."

He mumbled it and opened his work camera, then suddenly smacked his forehead.

"Look at my head. You called roadside assistance because your car broke down. Why did I remember it as running out of gas?"