Chapter 1: Return to 1958

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Beyond the capital’s forty-ninth district lay Changping County. In Xingwang Township, there was the Xiao Family Village. At the western edge of the village, within a fenced garden, stood three thatched mud huts. On the earthen kang bed in one of these huts, Xiao Weiguo slowly opened his eyes.

“Where am I? Damn, every part of me hurts so much, I have no strength at all.”

Xiao Weiguo tried to sit up, but the pain only intensified, causing him to collapse back onto the kang with a thud, the cool mat beneath him giving a crisp snap.

There was nothing he could do; he could only roll his eyes around to take in his surroundings.

The first thing he saw was an old-style flip calendar nailed to the wall.

September 10, 1958. Wednesday.

1958? Xiao Weiguo couldn’t even bother to check the rest of the room. His mind was blank. How, in the blink of an eye, had he gone from 2024 all the way back several decades?

He remembered being in 2024, fending off his mother's marriage-prodding video call in the mortgaged apartment he’d bought at the market’s peak. As always, his mother repeated her routine lines, never failing to mention marriage in every call since he turned twenty-five.

She had no idea what it was like in 2024—for a rural college graduate in his thirties, who spent all his parents’ savings on a house that had already depreciated thirty percent, whose looks and job were average, and who was always anxious about being laid off.

How could someone like him find a girlfriend? Who would want him?

The only stroke of luck was that the off-plan apartment he bought hadn’t been abandoned mid-construction.

With no one to confide in, he would wander the antique market downtown on weekends. He bought a few trinkets, among them a jade pendant he particularly liked.

Then, after receiving an urgent work assignment, he rushed home to work, absentmindedly fiddling with the jade in his left hand as he typed.

Yes, it must have been that jade pendant. Could it have brought him back to 1958? But why?

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Forget it—for now, better to accept the situation and take stock. According to what he knew, this was not a good time to be alive; a single misstep could mean starving to death.

Just then, voices drifted in from outside the wooden door of the mud house.

“Wife, the eldest has been bedridden with a fever for three days. The village doctor said we must get him to the town hospital before it’s too late. What should we do?”

A robust, almost thunderous woman’s voice replied, “If he dies, let him die! I feed him and water him every day, and he makes a fuss after getting a little wet in the fields. I bet he’s faking it to skip work. Lazy, the whole lot of them—an entire family of slackers! Tch. Hurry up and get to work, stop idling around!”

A heavy sigh escaped the man. After that, the footsteps faded into the distance.

“Eldest—they must be talking about me. My symptoms do feel like a fever. Don’t go! I need treatment, I could die like this!” Xiao Weiguo tried to make a sound from the bed, but his body was too weak to produce even a whisper.

He rolled his eyes helplessly, continuing to survey the room. All he could think was how utterly destitute it was.

The room was barely large enough for a bed. In the center stood a table with a broken leg propped up by a chunk of earth, and two bamboo chairs. The floor was packed yellow earth, the walls rough and uneven.

“From what those two just said, the owner of this body wasn’t well-liked at home. Otherwise, how could a healthy young man be left to die of a fever? Only then could I, an outsider, take his place.

I don’t know how old this body is, or what it looks like. Judging by the hands, he can’t be very old,” Xiao Weiguo thought, his mind in a whirl.

But the most pressing thing was to get help—someone to save him, or at least give him a sip of water.

As the sun set, Xiao Weiguo kept trying to move different parts of his body; the numbness faded little by little, and he gradually felt more in control. He could even rasp out a hoarse word or two.

At that moment, a very thin little girl came in, carrying a basket on her back. She looked like a fifth grader from his previous life, but much more frail, with a single plait reaching her waist.

“Big brother, are you feeling better? Do you think you can eat? I’ll bring you food as soon as it’s ready. I just came back from gathering pigweed—let me go light the fire.”

With great effort, Xiao Weiguo croaked, “Water.”

The little girl hurried out and returned with a ceramic bowl, pressing it to his lips. He gulped it down, and his throat felt immeasurably better.

“Don’t rush off. Sit beside the bed. My head’s muddled. I need to ask you some questions,” he rasped.

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“Why didn’t the family take me to the hospital? Do they mean to watch me die? Where is this place, and what is my name?”

The little girl looked surprised. “Big brother, are you delirious? You don’t even remember your own name? You’re Xiao Weiguo, our eldest brother. This is Changping, in the forty-ninth district. As for not taking you to the hospital, I guess it’s because our stepmother thinks it costs too much. She keeps saying the village doctor’s medicine will do, just to sweat it out at night and you’ll be fine.”

His name was the same as in his previous life—good, at least he didn’t have to endure the torment of a new name.

Hearing that he just needed to “tough it out,” Xiao Weiguo was stunned. “So ruthless—just tough it out and you’ll be fine? Is she a stepmother or what?”

Softly, the little girl replied, “She is a stepmother.”

His surprise lingered. “Well, that explains things. I’ll have to figure out the family situation little by little.”

Just then, his stomach rumbled. The little girl immediately got up. “Big brother, you’re hungry, right? Don’t worry, I’ll go cook. It’ll be ready soon.”

Left alone on the kang, Xiao Weiguo pondered his predicament. First, he urgently needed to treat his fever. It was probably pneumonia, and if left unchecked, it could be fatal, or at best leave him with brain damage. He recalled plenty of people from his childhood village who were left mentally impaired after high fevers.

Next, there was the family dynamic—he had a stepmother who clearly disliked him, a father with no authority, at least one younger sister, and he was the eldest.

And finally, this was the first year of the three difficult years—a rural start, a disaster of an opening hand!

Survival was the primary goal; nothing else mattered until he was out of danger.

As dusk fell, the courtyard outside grew lively. The little girl returned, carrying a steaming bowl of soup.

“Big brother, get up and eat while it’s hot, quick now.”

Ravenous, Xiao Weiguo propped himself up against the wall and looked at the yellowish porridge. He gulped it down in big mouthfuls.

But after the first mouthful, he nearly gagged—it tasted like a mouthful of wood shavings, almost impossible to swallow.