Chapter 1

A person cannot achieve a different future with the same self. If one hopes for a change in their future, they must first change themselves. Zhao Fusheng was very clear that there were too many things he wanted to change. As a man in his forties who was not particularly successful, he vaguely remembered the excitement of buying his first second-hand Nokia in 2004, when he called home and was so happy that he couldn't sleep all night. Seven years later, when he bought the latest iPhone, he no longer felt that same excitement. When he bought his first Xiaoli car, he drove his parents around Binzhou Central Street, but when he bought an Audi, he just casually posted a message on his social media. Even though the car was eventually sold to pay for his father's medical treatment, he didn't feel much about it. Back in junior high, he often smiled foolishly when sitting behind the girl he had a crush on. A decade later, even with a young and beautiful girl sitting next to him, he couldn't be bothered to make a move. The threshold for happiness kept rising, and the cost of excitement grew higher. This was one of the prices of growing up. Zhao Fusheng suddenly thought of what Jack Ma said, that his biggest regret was founding Alibaba. Perhaps this wasn't just being dramatic, because for everyone, the upper limit of striving might be the day when they no longer feel the taste of happiness. This morning, Zhao Fusheng overturned his boss's desk. The reason was simple: the fat, pig-like man, who had risen to power through his sister, shamelessly stole the business plan Zhao Fusheng had spent half a year working on. The release of anger came with a price. The box in his hands was the price Zhao Fusheng paid for his actions. He was fired. But Zhao Fusheng had no regrets, because just yesterday, he had gotten a divorce, and now, as a single man, he had no ties. Success and failure, this was the lesson of time and life, and it made him realize what was most precious in the world and what he should cherish. Now, he just wanted to get drunk. A gentle breeze rippled, and the sound of reading came from not far away. This was an era when people still retained their last bit of innocence. Perhaps in ten years, even the ivory tower, the last sanctuary of purity, would lose its simplicity. They say character determines destiny, but often, people don't realize that before life's trials, our characters are not fixed. Only after being ruthlessly battered by reality do we truly understand who we are and what we should do. When Zhao Fusheng opened his eyes again, he felt a slight itch on his face, as if someone was whispering in his ear. His head ached, and he vaguely remembered sitting in a street stall, drinking beer bottle after bottle, and when he got excited, he went to a karaoke bar, called a princess, and had her sing "The Brightest Star in the Night Sky" for him. Then, after leaving, a heavy rain poured down, and the last memory in his mind was seeing a glimmer of light. "Zhao Fusheng, is Zhao Fusheng here?" An old voice called out, and Zhao Fusheng looked up to see an elderly man with gray hair and glasses, holding a book. Looking around, it seemed to be a university lecture hall. Everyone's eyes were on him, and the dappled sunlight of summer fell on his face. Although still a bit dazed, Zhao Fusheng instinctively raised his hand. "I'm here." "Mm, next time, respond faster when I call your name." The old man nodded and continued taking attendance. At that moment, Zhao Fusheng felt as if he had been frozen in place, sitting there dumbfounded. I must be dreaming! Zhao Fusheng thought to himself, because he knew he had had this dream many times before. In the dream, he returned to the era of white shirts and the time when he freely released his youthful passion. But after waking up, he was still the middle-aged office worker, still living a 9-to-5 life, commuting between the subway and bus stations. Occasionally, Zhao Fusheng would think about his youth and smile. It was a good era, at least when you wanted peace, no one would ask you who "Jingjing" was. Slowly standing up, Zhao Fusheng walked out of the classroom, ignoring everyone's surprised looks. Since it was a dream, he didn't care what the old professor thought, remembering that the professor had been fired for academic fraud after he graduated. "Will you remember tomorrow, the diary you wrote yesterday..." Putting his hands in his jeans pockets, Zhao Fusheng hummed a song as he strolled down the school path. He had seen poetry and distant places, and he also enjoyed the present mundanity, because behind that mundanity were ten thousand kinds of human烟火 and deep emotions. Along the way, people of his age passed by, and Zhao Fusheng looked at the familiar yet strange surroundings with interest. For some reason, this dream was very clear, so clear that things he had almost forgotten were now vivid in his mind. What did I do in the summer of 1999? Zhao Fusheng thought as he walked, but it was a bit fuzzy. After all, so much time had passed that he could hardly remember what had happened. Now, he was a sophomore, having finally shed the identity of a freshman. His biggest hobby was lying on the window of his dormitory, watching the pretty freshmen girls walk by. "Some people lack zinc, some lack iron, and at this time, I probably lack the most face." He chuckled to himself, remembering his somewhat middle-school-like temper when he was in college. Zhao Fusheng came from a poor family, and his parents were just salaried workers. Twenty years ago, workers' salaries might have been enviable, but twenty years later, they could barely make ends meet. But at that time, he was not mature and always found ways to ask his parents for money to buy clothes, phones, and computers. His parents, however, always loved him silently. Until the day they grew old. "When the tree wants to be still, the wind does not stop; when the child wants to support, the parents are no longer there." This saying, which many young people don't understand, only becomes clear when they grow old. "Maybe I should go home and visit." This thought flashed through Zhao Fusheng's mind, and the desire quickly became uncontrollable, like a flame that quickly spread throughout his body. Feeling his wallet, he saw the few red bills inside. He remembered that this type of hundred-yuan note had only been issued for less than a year. Walking to the school gate, he waved, and a taxi stopped in front of him. "Driver, to the Second Hospital." When Zhao Fusheng said this, his voice trembled. Since his parents passed away, he had rarely returned to his old house. Time is like a sieve, constantly filtering the people around us. Some stay in our lives, while others gradually fade away. But no matter what, there are always some people who warm the springs, summers, autumns, and winters of our lives. Zhao Fusheng knew that in adult life, ease is a luxury, a smile is a skill, persistence is a responsibility, and effort is an obligation. So, no matter how hard life was, he gritted his teeth and endured. But in the years, there were many branches of parting, and the words left unsaid. Occasionally, in the morning, he would think about the past, chopping wood and feeding horses. So much time had passed that Zhao Fusheng was almost about to forget the gentle, loving eyes and the heavy, broad shoulders. Fortunately, this dream gave him a chance to recall it all. At this moment, Zhao Fusheng felt happy, perhaps this was what happiness should be. The taxi driver seemed to notice that the young man was a bit dazed and didn't chat with Zhao Fusheng, instead turning on the radio. "I hope to have someone like you, like the cool breeze in the mountains, like the warm light in the ancient city, as long as it's you in the end. Today, who did you pass by, and who lost you? Passing through your whole world, I am Xueyi, this is Ninghai Radio FM 95..." The pleasant voice from the radio made Zhao Fusheng pause, feeling something was off, but he couldn't quite put his finger on it. Shaking his head, Zhao Fusheng stopped dwelling on such trivial matters and began to imagine what he would say when he saw his parents. Even though it was a dream, he wanted his parents to know that he had been doing well since they passed away. Unconsciously, Zhao Fusheng found himself standing at the entrance of his old neighborhood. The familiar streets and surroundings were still there, though some details were a bit blurry, like the stationery store at the corner having a new name and some neighbors' faces being unclear. But Zhao Fusheng was sure this was the home where he had lived for nearly twenty years. Reality and dreams were separated by vast distances and the pain of separation. Stepping into the familiar building, hearing the familiar noise from upstairs, Zhao Fusheng's steps faltered. When he reached the fourth floor, he felt a sudden nervousness. Each person's life is a straight line, occasionally crossing paths with others, like the intersection of two roads. We never know what will happen next, or whether the person in our life at this moment will disappear the next. Perhaps the most tragic thing in life is this. Zhao Fusheng lived on the fifth floor. As he climbed the stairs, he saw a crowd gathered at his door, and there was a commotion from the opposite side. "Give us the money, give it quickly, or we'll take your things!" "Put them down, or I'll call the police!" "Can't we talk this out?" "Oh!" With a cry, someone fell to the ground. Zhao Fusheng, seeing his mother fall, felt a surge of anger, even though it was just a dream. "Mom!" He shouted angrily and rushed over. The crowd parted, revealing a man in his thirties with a fierce look. Before he could speak, Zhao Fusheng pounced on him like a hungry tiger. Indeed, he flew at him. After all, it was a dream, and in Zhao Fusheng's mind, even if he got hurt, it didn't matter. Anyone who dared to touch his mother would be beaten to the point of being unable to take care of themselves. At nearly six feet tall and over 150 pounds, Zhao Fusheng landed on the man with a thud. "Bang!" After a dull sound, Zhao Fusheng got up and, like a madman, punched the man's face repeatedly. His grandfather had practiced martial arts, and his father had been in the military. Zhao Fusheng had been forced to exercise from a young age, and as his father often said, a strong body meant you wouldn't be at a disadvantage in a fight. This proved to be true, as Zhao Fusheng had never been bullied since he started school. Especially after he beat up three junior high students who were extorting him for pocket money in his first year of middle school. "Fusheng? How did you come back?" His mother's cry finally made Zhao Fusheng stop. He let go of the man, whose face was now covered in blood, and stood up. Only then did he realize that his mother had been pushed at the door of the Fan family next door. In his memory, the Fan family had two daughters, the older one about his age, and the younger one only two or three years old. Mr. Fan had been a simple, honest man, but later lost an arm due to gambling, and his wife left with the younger daughter, selling the house. The two families had no contact since then. It seemed that today, someone had come to collect a debt, and his mother had been accidentally pushed while trying to mediate. Glancing at the few people who were scared by his sudden outburst, Zhao Fusheng said calmly, "You can collect your debt, but if anyone dares to hit someone again, do you think we neighbors are blind?" No matter what, he had to rally the neighbors. "Right, right, Fusheng is right." "Collect your debt, but don't hit people. What's the point of that?" The neighbors found their purpose and, with renewed vigor, began to scold the remaining three debt collectors. Zhao Fusheng walked to his mother, embraced her, and tears streamed down his face. Parting has always been a part of life, and while physical distance can be bridged with the saying "A true friend is never far, even if separated by oceans," emotional distance is much harder to bridge. The path is long and arduous. "We shouldn't have hit anyone, but he owes our boss 50,000 yuan. What do we do about that?" The debt collector's words silenced everyone. The sense of justice might make the neighbors speak up, but reality made them hesitant to say more. In 1999, 50,000 yuan was a significant amount. Debts must be repaid, and even gambling debts were no exception. Zhao Fusheng laughed. He felt that this dream was too real, as if it were a pre-death experience. But no matter what, he didn't want this reunion with his mother to be disturbed by such matters. So, he waved his hand and said, "Enough talk. It's just 50,000 yuan. I'll take care of it. Come back in a month to collect the money." Honestly, Zhao Fusheng felt he looked very cool at that moment. But for some reason, he noticed that his mother and everyone else looked shocked. The only one who looked at him with admiration was the three-year-old girl from the Fan family. "Lolitas are the best." This thought flashed through Zhao Fusheng's mind. The next moment, darkness enveloped him...