Chapter 1: I Have Returned

Soaring high to snatch the basketball, feeling that intimate, natural connection as his fingers pressed against the leather— even in dreams, Wei Dong could never let go of that sensation. Did anyone truly understand the pain of living with crippled hands? Could anyone grasp it? He could live, sure, even qualify for a disability certificate, but life was far from convenient. Aside from scrolling through videos of pretty girls, even ordering takeout could be a disaster—one wrong tap and you’d get roast meats instead of chicken giblets.

That’s why, even at sixty, Wei Dong remained an untouched bachelor, bottled up to the point of bursting. Only in his dreams did he have it all. Only in his dreams could he relive that fleeting moment at nineteen—youthful, healthy, strong as an ox.

In the instant he grabbed a rebound, he could still see Er Feng, squeezed among a few girls under the wall, cracking sunflower seeds and chattering, giggling behind their hands. Two years younger, she’d left school after middle school to farm, and back then, she already acted, in words and deeds, as though she were the family’s future daughter-in-law, helping care for his grandparents and with farmwork.

Fresh high school graduates, having just taken the college entrance exam, all thought the girls from town were prettier and more stylish—what was some country bumpkin in comparison? But now, suddenly glancing at the little lass, she seemed rather cute.

Perhaps it was the glow of nostalgia, or perhaps it was the hunger—for someone who had never tasted real love, even a wild boar would seem a treat.

Farewell...

Wei Dong’s mood fell with his footsteps. Joyful moments are always brief, beautiful dreams always leave endless regret upon waking. The pulse quickened by sport ticked down—5, 4, 3, 2, 1—like saying goodbye to each of his fingers.

Sure enough, right on cue, the frantic voice of an old woman from the village entrance rang out.

“Wei Dong! Dongwa, how can you still be playing basketball? Your father fell from the construction site!”

Oh, of course—what had to come, would come. What a ridiculous thing to say, as if without her shouting the news, he’d have known his father had fallen…

Wait—how would I have known?

Wei Dong stood stunned. He even stole a glance at the distant Er Feng, who had been the one bidding farewell to his youthful dream. Now, instead, she was wide-eyed, running over, sunflower seeds spilling from her hand as she hurriedly shoved the rest into her pocket and nudged his arm.

“What are you doing? Hurry up and go—go see what happened to Uncle!”

Wei Dong nearly stumbled from her shove, his mind a tangled mess. What else could he do? His father had fallen from a building, injured his spine. From then on, he’d be paralyzed below the waist.

The family’s breadwinner, who’d kept them fed and cared for, was felled; how could he continue schooling? He’d had to shoulder the family’s burdens immediately.

And this was only the first of life’s three great pitfalls.

Hours later, they finally made it to the county hospital. Outside the operating room, he saw his mother, helpless and lost.

Wei Dong was still in a daze.

Everyone thought he was simply terrified by the calamity.

But in truth, he was still trying to confirm whether this was all just a dream.

His mother, tears streaming down her face, had cooked and labored on construction sites with his father—barely forty, yet already weathered and lined, her hands callused and cracked.

Wei Dong had spent forty years as a gate guard at the city’s tax bureau, where women of that age still kept themselves fair and alluring.

He had never seen his mother at ease, never in his memory was she anything but a hardworking country woman, always toiling for her family—especially in her later years, supporting a paralyzed husband, caring for elderly parents, and worrying about her crippled son.

At that moment, the heart that had long since grown old and numb within Wei Dong began to tremble violently. With the vigor of a nineteen-year-old, he awkwardly reached out to help his mother wipe away her tears, not knowing what to say.

The corridor was crowded with villagers and workers, all bustling with anxious concern.

No one paid him any mind.

Wei Dong paid no heed to the noise. He was still adjusting to the clash between the dulled mind of a gate guard, worn down by forty years, and the surging vitality of a high schooler at his intellectual peak.

Most of all, he kept staring at his healthy hands, and the first thought that leapt to mind was the one that haunted him day and night.

Just then, the operating room door opened. The doctor, following the nurse as they wheeled out the patient, removed his mask and explained to the family:

“Multiple fractures. Our county hospital can only attempt emergency surgery to piece things together and save his life. We can do nothing for the spinal injury…”

Having lived with this fact for forty years, Wei Dong did not crowd forward with the others.

But now, with fresh ears, he could easily catch the doctor’s subtext: if you have the means, take him somewhere better; this is all we can do here.

The family and friends were all country folk who had never been to the county hospital before.

They barely visited the town clinic, let alone relied on village barefoot doctors or itinerant healers at the market, getting by on herbal remedies and toughing it out.

They had no concept of the difference between bone-setting and spinal paralysis.

They treated the county hospital doctors with something close to reverence, quickly thanking them and carrying the bandaged patient into the ward.

“Could it be that Father doesn’t have to be paralyzed for life?”

Wei Dong was the only one standing there, an unbelievable thought flickering through his mind.

He couldn’t even remember, after forty years, the doctor ever having uttered those words—the man hadn’t expected a bunch of country people to have the means to seek better treatment.

But the Wei Dong of today knew: in the city, anyone with a serious illness would go to the provincial capital! For something truly dire, they’d head for Beijing or Shanghai.

Like a spark catching tinder, this idea flared up in Wei Dong’s heart.

But the reality was that country folk truly didn’t have the means.

He racked his brain.

Was this what they called rebirth?

Did he remember any lottery numbers, any secret codes to wealth?

A disabled old guard at the city tax bureau, having never left town, what could he do?

For forty unremarkable years in Shangzhou City, he’d never witnessed anything truly extraordinary… Wait, wasn’t Shangzhou the birthplace of the country’s first billionaire after the economic reforms?

That legend—the one who traded canned goods with the Federation up north for airplanes, the man whose name was synonymous with success!

Their family lived just a street away from the tax bureau; stories about him had been repeated since the early nineties until they were worn thin.

I have to latch onto him—follow a powerhouse like that and enjoy all the riches and glory the world has to offer!

Even being his bodyguard would be better than languishing at the tax bureau.

So, in the hospital room thick with the smell of disinfectant, as his mind finally sputtered to life like an old diesel engine, Wei Dong stayed out of the family’s discussions.

He simply sat, dipping cotton into water to gently wipe the dust from his father’s face.

A feeling both strange and familiar.

He’d never realized his father had such a full head of black hair, nor expected that such a young man could already be so weathered.

So he worked with care, completely absorbed, betraying nothing of the tempest raging in his mind.

His thoughts had already turned to: why would that billionaire take him in? He needed value, and first, he needed to solve his family’s crisis.

He had a direction, but the immediate, pressing problem was what to do now.

Even when the county construction company came by to visit and the villagers and workers handled negotiations, he didn’t look up.

A scholar is useless, as the saying goes. Though the people of eastern Sichuan tried to send their children to school, if you didn’t land a job at the commune or a factory, all that book learning was for nothing. Better to be literate and numerate and start working early.

Seeing Dongwa frozen in fear, unable to help, everyone knew he’d be of no use.

So, working together, the others made sure to insist it was a work injury. The construction company covered the hospital bills and paid out two hundred yuan in compensation.

For a young county doctor, the monthly wage was only thirty or forty yuan.

It was a fortune.

You could work the fields for a year and not see that much cash.

Everyone finally breathed a sigh of relief.

With those two hundred yuan, at least, they could get by for a while—now all hopes rested on Dongwa making something of himself.

But looking at Wei Dong, who sat there silent, even his mother felt anxious.

Night fell, and his father still hadn’t woken. The son sat clutching his father’s rough, powerless fingers.

Suddenly, a slick, oily voice sounded at the doorway: “Sis, now that brother-in-law’s laid up, if Dongwa’s got any strength, let him come earn money with me…”

Wei Dong’s head snapped up, the weary haze of the old guard’s life instantly shattered.

He nearly ground his teeth to dust.

This was the most idle, shiftless uncle on his mother’s side—the very one who, at the next great pitfall, would shove him straight into trouble!

Perhaps his father, too, heard the hated uncle’s voice, for his limp hand suddenly twitched in Wei Dong’s grasp.

Wei Dong hurriedly leaned in to check on him.

At that moment, it was as if a locked memory had sprung open.

In his previous life, he’d been busy in the corridor, showing off for all the relatives, instead of being at his father’s side when he awoke.

Now, he quickly bent down and murmured, “I’m here, I’ve come back…”

He didn’t know why, but those were the words that tumbled from his lips.

His father, laboring to adjust to the pain, finally focused his gaze on his son.

Cracked, pale lips trembled as he muttered, “I… I lost my footing. I just wanted… wanted to lay more bricks, earn you some more tuition money…”

He had never heard these words in his previous life; he’d barely glanced at his awakening father before leaving with his uncle. From then on, his father only grew more silent and aged.

What could two disabled men say to each other?

But now, those words lit a fire in Wei Dong’s heart, a blaze that in an instant burned all the old age to ashes.

He looked his father in the eye and nodded, “I know what I have to do now. Rest easy—I’ll be back.”

He released his father’s hand, strode to the door, and kicked his uncle hard in the chest.

Go to hell, you bastard!