Chapter 1: After the Disaster, Dreams Awaken to a Changed World

Jumping out of the taxi, He Fang rushed straight to the ticket counter and finally made it to the plane back to Shanghai at the last moment, drenched in sweat. It wasn't until he stepped into the cabin under the disapproving gaze of an Eastern Airlines stewardess that he finally relaxed.

He Fang wasn't the type to make a flight wait for him. If he missed the plane, though it would cost some effort, the company would likely reimburse the extra expenses. However, even the worldly-wise He Fang wouldn't have the patience to argue with the old spinster in the accounting department for an entire afternoon.

"Well, finally made it!" He Fang relaxed in his seat, unwilling to move any further.

To catch the scheduled flight, He Fang hadn't slept well last night and was now completely exhausted. He fastened his seatbelt slowly, earning a stern glare from the stewardess who came to check.

The plane had reached its cruising altitude and was flying towards the target city. The cabin announcement reminded passengers that they could now unfasten their seatbelts. The cabin became noisy as the stewardess pushed a cart into the aisle. However, He Fang pulled down the shade, leaned back in his seat, and closed his eyes, soon drifting into sleep.

Suddenly, the plane jolted violently, and the fuselage began to shake. He Fang woke up in a panic, about to ask what was happening, when the cabin announcement came on. But even without the announcement, the fire visible through the window made it clear what was happening.

He Fang's face turned pale as he clutched the armrest tightly. The odds of a plane crash were less than one in a million. He had never won more than twenty yuan in a lottery, so could this be his lucky day?

The fire spread rapidly. In no time, the flames on the silver wings had engulfed the last engine and covered the entire wing. A large amount of fuel spewed from the engine's breach, igniting along the plane's trajectory, trailing behind like the brilliant tail feathers of the mythical phoenix. The large jetliner, with its wings trailing long flames, plummeted from the sky, resembling a fiery meteor streaking through the dark heavens, particularly striking in the night sky.

The emergency power supply for the cabin had failed just before the last engine was consumed. The emergency lights on the ceiling flickered a few times and then went out completely, along with the small lights on the side of the seats. The cabin fell into darkness, with no light except for the fire outside. The already panicked passengers erupted into a chorus of wails.

He Fang, sitting by the window, was tightly restrained in his narrow seat by the seatbelt. The orange flames on the wing, fanned by the wind, burned fiercely. The flickering firelight penetrated the window, casting a flickering light on He Fang's face, while screams and cries filled his ears.

For some reason, He Fang felt a strange calm, free from fear. He observed everything around him as if watching a newly released disaster movie, with little sense of the impending outcome.

The flames outside the window illuminated the ten-thousand-meter-high sky at midnight. 'If someone were to look up from the ground, it would be a breathtaking sight,' He Fang thought to himself.

A brilliant explosion of fire in the sky froze He Fang's time in this world.

His consciousness still floated in the darkness, but the discomfort from various parts of his body gradually brought He Fang back to consciousness. The feeling was not the pain of an injury but a profound sense of exhaustion, as if he had lost a lot of blood, similar to the cold and weakness he felt after a stomach bleed and lying in a hospital bed.

The feeling of weakness was uncomfortable, but He Fang was still glad. As long as he could feel something, it meant he was still alive. Surviving a plane crash was a cause for celebration. However, He Fang soon panicked again when he realized his mind contained many memories that were not his own.

'Who is Han Gang? Who is he?'

He Fang was suddenly startled, his consciousness fully awakened. His mind contained a set of memories that did not belong to him, a complete life from childhood to adulthood, all under the name Han Gang. But these memories did not belong to the 21st century but to the Song Dynasty, a millennium ago, a time shrouded in mystery.

'No way... Possessed by a thousand-year-old ghost?'

He Fang felt as if he were in a nightmare, suspecting he had injured his head in the accident. He tried to open his eyes to see his surroundings, but his eyelids felt as heavy as a thousand pounds, unable to open. Despite his best efforts, he could only make his eyelids twitch a couple of times.

"He's awake! He's awake! Father! Mother! Third Brother is awake!"

A young girl's excited cry echoed as He Fang's eyelids twitched. Her voice was soft and sweet, but to He Fang, it sounded like a loud bell, making his head spin. A cacophony of voices followed, including an older man and woman, who were overjoyed by He Fang's slight movement. Their voices were filled with excitement, but He Fang's heart sank.

He Fang, having traveled across the country for over a decade after graduating from university, was familiar with various dialects. However, the three people beside him spoke a language he did not recognize, with a strange intonation that had a hint of Shaanxi dialect and a touch of Cantonese.

'Is this an ancient language?' He Fang thought, recalling the thousand-year-old memories in his mind. 'Could it be that I didn't get possessed by a ghost, but I became a ghost and possessed someone else, and that someone is from the Song Dynasty!'

This thought made He Fang's mind even more chaotic, his heart tightening. Although he enjoyed reading穿越 (time-travel) novels on his phone, He Fang didn't believe in the possibility of traveling a thousand years into the past. However, the current situation left him no choice but to believe it.

Existence is reasonable.

He Fang had always held this view. He could clearly hear the three people beside him, their voices filled with joy and relief. This couldn't be an illusion or a dream! The memories in his mind and the voices he heard told him so.

Whether it was a dream or an illusion, it shouldn't exceed the scope of his knowledge. The unfamiliar yet strangely familiar language and the memories in his mind that did not belong to him completely ruled out the possibility of an illusion or a nightmare.

'Could it really be time travel?'

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