Chapter 1 | Waking Up in 1980

It was still dark, but the cold inside was already waking him up.

It wasn't the kind of cold from a broken air conditioner; it was a chill seeping from the earthen walls, clinging to his back and slowly seeping into his bones.

When Li Xing opened his eyes, his first thought was—

Damn it, the hospital has no money; they won't even give him an extra blanket.

But the next second, he froze.

Above him wasn't a white ceiling, but rows of blackened wooden beams. A few ears of corn hung from the beams, yellowed from soot, swaying gently in the wind.

The air had an indescribable smell—firewood ash, damp earth, and the sourness of leftover porridge.

He slowly sat up, his hand resting on the floor.

It wasn't a hospital bed, but a hard, earthen kang (heated brick bed).

The mat on the kang was worn and frayed; pressing it with his fingers was painful.

Li Xing's mind went blank.

Something was wrong.

He remembered clearly that last night he was in the hospital emergency room. His father had suffered a brain hemorrhage, the surgery consent form was in his hand, and the light at the payment window was blindingly bright.

“Pay 30,000 first.”

The nurse said this in a flat tone, like reading a weather forecast.

Then… he couldn’t remember.

When he woke up again, he was here.

The room was small; a kang (a heated brick bed) took up almost half the space. A wooden cabinet leaned against the corner, its door crooked and held together with wire. Newspapers were pasted on the windows, the edges yellowed and torn.

Li Xing subconsciously reached into his pocket.

No phone.

No keys.

Only a pair of calloused hands.

He looked down at them. His knuckles were thick, and there was still black dirt under his fingernails that couldn’t be washed off. The veins on his arms were prominent; this wasn’t the body of someone in his thirties who spent years typing away at a keyboard.

This wasn’t his body.

The door creaked open.

A cold wind swept in, and a woman carried an enamel bowl into the room. The enamel was chipped from the rim, revealing the iron beneath.

“Xingzi, awake?”

Her voice was low, as if afraid of disturbing someone.

Li Xing opened his mouth, his throat dry and sore.

He recognized that face.

His mother, looking more than ten years younger.

Her hair was tied back with a black rubber band; her face was thin, the corners of her eyes didn't have as many fine lines, but the lines between her brows were already deep with worry.

His mind went blank for a moment, as if something had been forcibly shoved into it.

1980.

Northeast China, a small town.

A state-owned factory worker's family.

He was twenty-two this year.

The memory didn't belong to him, yet it was terrifyingly familiar.

“What are you spacing out about?” His mother handed him the bowl. “Drink it while it's hot.”

The bowl contained corn porridge so thin you could see your reflection in it.

A few grains of undissolved cornmeal floated on top.

Li Xing took the bowl, his fingers trembling slightly.

He wasn't unfamiliar with hardship.

But he had never truly been hungry.

At this moment, his body's instincts acted before reason—his stomach clenched, his throat tightened, even his breathing became urgent.

He took a sip.

Warm.

Tasteless.

Yet it made him want to cry.

"Slow down," his mother sighed, looking at him. "Your father's leg… the factory said they'd stop him for observation."

Li Xing's hand paused.

His memory continued to rewind.

His father had injured his leg in the workshop a few days ago; it wasn't considered a work-related injury, but rather due to improper handling. The family suddenly lost its main source of income.

The food coupons were almost used up.

No one dared to think about how they would get through next month.

"Xingzi," his mother said softly, "why don't you… go see Old Zhao and see if he can arrange some temporary work for you?"

Li Xing didn't speak.

He lowered his head and finished the last bit of corn porridge in his bowl.

The bowl scraped against the bottom with a soft, scraping sound.

This sound was particularly jarring in the quiet room.

Just as he put the bowl down, a sudden buzzing sound jolted his mind.

It was as if something had been forcibly awakened.

[Copy Space - Unbound]

[Strong Will to Survive Detected]

[Confirm Binding?]

Li Xing looked up abruptly.

The room was still the same, his mother was still standing opposite him, nothing had changed.

But those words floated clearly in the depths of his consciousness.

It wasn't a hallucination.

His Adam's apple bobbed.

At this moment, he felt no elation, only an extremely calm, even somewhat humble, thought—

If this were true.

Then at least they could eat their fill.