Chapter 1

Zoe Harrison, the resident advisor, looked up from her half-reviewed orientation list. "Jane Beasley? You just checked in, and you're already asking for a single room?"

I placed my acceptance letter, a copy of my ID, my medical report from a top-tier hospital, and the dorm transfer form on her desk.

"Ms. Harrison, I have severe myocardial ischemia. Extreme heat can trigger cardiogenic shock. But my roommate, Katie, won't let us use the AC or the fans."

The office went dead silent.

Beside Zoe, a student assistant wiping sweat from his forehead looked up in disbelief. "It's 100 degrees out today, and she won't let you use the AC?"

Zoe frowned. "Look, roommate issues can be talked out. Single room approvals don't happen overnight."

A soft, tearful voice echoed from the doorway. "Ms. Harrison, it's not an issue. It's a spiritual journey."

Katie Lloyd stood there, clutching our room's AC remote. She wore a faded, coarse linen dress. Her face was drenched in sweat, and her eyes were red as if she'd been terribly wronged.

"Ms. Harrison, she wants to bleed the earth dry."

The student assistant froze, hand still on his brow.

Zoe eyed the remote in Katie's hands. "Why do you have the dorm remote control?"

Katie instantly pressed it to her chest like a sacred relic. "This thing is evil. Every breath of air it blows is cutting the life of our mountains and rivers short. Mother Nature bleeds too."

As she said that, tears rolled down her cheeks. "I know people think I'm weird, but I just want to stop industrial civilization from poisoning our world."

A few freshmen had gathered outside the door.

Someone whispered, "A bit extreme, but she means well."

Others looked at me, their expressions shifting. That familiar, suffocating pressure tightened in my chest.

It was exactly like my last life. The moment Katie cried and dragged out her grand philosophies, everyone would automatically fill in the blanks of her victimhood.

When I said my heart couldn't take it, they called me high-maintenance.

When I said she unplugged the fans, they said natural breezes were healthier anyway.

When I said she turned the dorm into a sauna, they said she just cared too much about the planet.

In the end, as I lay in a hospital bed hooked up to a ventilator, unable to speak, people were still debating whether I lacked social responsibility.

This time, I didn't bother explaining. I kept my eyes on Zoe. "Ms. Harrison, I'm not judging her beliefs. I just don't want to live with her."

Katie's sobbing hitched. She looked up, sweat and tears clinging to her eyelashes. "Jane, do you really care about comfort that much?"

"I have a heart condition," I said.

As if devastated by my selfishness, she took a half-step back in sheer pity. "But children in the mountains don't even have electricity, and they still fight to survive."

I flipped my medical report open, pointing to the doctor's orders to avoid high temperatures and emotional stress. "I'm trying to survive, too."

The room went completely still.

As Zoe scanned the report, her brow furrowed, and her expression turned serious. "A single-room dorm request requires bed availability verification, as well as approval from the college and the housing department."

Katie quickly sniffled and stepped forward. "Ms. Harrison, there's no need to go through all that trouble. I'll use my love to guide Jane. Once she feels the joy of sweating and detoxing, nature will heal her heart."

I looked straight at her. "I don't need nature to heal me. And I don't need your guidance."