Chapter One: The Year 1995

February 6th, 1995. The day of Awakening of Insects.

As evening fell and the last rays of the setting sun faded, industrious women began to light fires and prepare dinner. Wisps of smoke curled from the clustered chimneys, blending with the sun’s afterglow, the rosy clouds, and the distant mountains, painting the little village nestled among the hills into an oil painting—so beautiful it was intoxicating.

Barefoot, Chen Ling walked along the dam of the reservoir, his eyes continually sweeping over the scenery. This was his third day since arriving here, and he had nearly explored every corner around the village. Forests, reservoirs, wheat fields—his footprints were everywhere.

Though resignation weighed on him, deep down he had already accepted the fact that he had crossed into 1995.

“It’s a pity, really. All the wealth I accumulated over half my life—now, it’s gone.”

Chen Ling sighed in melancholy, squatting beside a pond near the dam to wash the mud off his feet. It was still early February, and after sunset the mountain air grew chilly; the water in the pond was cold. He washed quickly, unable to bear the icy touch for long.

He grabbed a handful of dry grass nearby to wipe his feet, then slipped on a pair of clean cotton shoes, feeling a bit more comfortable. With his shoes on, and the twilight casting a dim glow, Chen Ling could see his tall, upright reflection in the water of the pond—a handsome face, sun-kissed skin, muscles not ostentatious but well-proportioned and strong. Everything about him spoke of a vibrant young man.

“Though we share the same name and almost identical features, I know—you’re not me.”

Chen Ling stared at his reflection in the water, whispering to himself.

Because at this point in his previous life, he was a third-year university student, who spent over a decade struggling in society after graduation, never marrying.

But the Chen Ling of now—not to mention university, he hadn’t even finished high school. At twenty-three, he already had a wife of two years.

None of these things matched up. And then, there were the mountains, the water, the village—not his familiar hometown.

So, Chen Ling had spent the past two days pondering all this. He knew this was not a rebirth.

But if it was a crossing, it was not the usual kind.

Most likely, he had crossed into the body of another version of himself in a parallel world.

Only, this parallel world’s Chen Ling not only had a life path completely opposite to his own, but their personalities were two extremes.

Indolent and unambitious, not to mention his lack of the qualities of a proper man after marriage. Every morning, he’d ask his wife for money, then ride a Phoenix-brand bicycle to the county billiard hall or arcade to enjoy himself.

Sometimes, when his wife couldn’t give him money, he’d deliberately provoke her, lose his temper, or even resort to violence.

Despite his wife’s virtue and beauty—her looks and figure were first rate—this scoundrel still didn’t hesitate to raise his hand.

Recently, during the town festival, he got drunk somewhere, came home late, and started a fight with his wife, blaming her for not preparing food for him.

But it wasn’t really about the food; he was upset he hadn’t gotten any money from her during the festival, and came home looking for an excuse to vent.

It could be said that every trait Chen Ling despised in a man in his past life, this parallel self possessed.

The sense of absurd drama was overwhelming.

Most crucially, he now had no idea how to face that delicate, lovely young wife.

Darkness settled.

Chen Ling returned to the village, encountering many villagers along the way.

Even if they crossed paths, few cared to greet him.

Because a lazy man was deeply despised in rural life.

Especially this Chen Ling, whose reputation was notorious; everyone knew him for miles around.

After dropping out of high school, he followed others out for work.

He’d worked as a security guard, waiter, porter—never holding onto a job for long.

He was simply too lazy, unwilling to endure hardship.

Always picky about tasks, avoiding hard or night shifts, frequently shirking responsibilities. With such behavior, what employer would keep him?

At first, villagers spoke up for him, but after he ignored advice several times and even caused others to lose their jobs, no one bothered anymore.

He barely survived out there for a couple of months, failed at everything, and slunk back to the village.

He was the family’s only child; after his mother disappeared at age ten, he was left with his father.

The old man doted on him, never scolding or beating him, only sighing and never uttering harsh words.

This made him worse, and his reputation deteriorated further.

Such a man, ordinarily, could never find a wife in the countryside.

But his father was a county mailman, and once, while delivering mail to a remote mountain hamlet, he saved a herbalist.

Because of his work, he often traveled deep into the mountains several times a year.

Over time, a friendship formed, and to repay the life-saving debt, the herbalist wanted to marry off his daughter to Chen Ling.

At that time, Chen Ling’s father was worried about his son’s marriage prospects—he was overjoyed at the offer and gladly accepted.

This was mainly because the herbalist’s hamlet was even more remote than Chen Wang Village, deep in the mountains, and they had no idea what kind of person Chen Ling was.

Otherwise, even out of gratitude, they would have been more cautious.

“He’s just lucky, having a father like that—otherwise, he’d surely be a bachelor for life.”

Walking along the stone-paved path, Chen Ling couldn’t help but recall his father.

In both lifetimes, the fathers poured out everything for their sons.

Sadly, neither was blessed with good fortune; they died early without enjoying much happiness.

It was truly lamentable.

When night had fully fallen, Chen Ling returned to his current home—a modest farmhouse courtyard.

There was a hand-pump well, grape arbor, pear and peach trees, a chicken coop...

Night had come. Chen Ling found the lamp cord and switched on the electric light, preparing to make some dinner.

He’d left early in the morning, wandered all day, and hadn’t eaten lunch—now, his stomach was empty.

Just as he was about to start, the thick cloth curtain at the door was lifted.

A slender young woman, her hair in braids and a long-handled bamboo basket on her arm, came in.

Chen Ling glanced and saw the basket was filled with lumps of charcoal.

It was early February; nights were still cold, so the iron stove was lit for warmth, otherwise sleeping would be impossible.

So, every evening while fetching vegetables from the cellar in the backyard, Wang Suxu would fill a basket with fresh charcoal for the night.

She did this every day.

But today, as soon as she entered, she saw Chen Ling standing in the middle of the room, eyes fixed on her.

Their gazes met, and Chen Ling clearly saw fright in Wang Suxu’s eyes. She shivered, the basket dropped to the floor with a clatter, charcoal spilling everywhere.

“I—I...” Wang Suxu’s body tensed, fear and panic on her face.

As if, in the next moment, she expected Chen Ling to curse and strike her.

After a few seconds, seeing Chen Ling standing still, expressionless, Wang Suxu grew even more fearful.

She hurriedly crouched down, gathering the charcoal piece by piece into the basket, sneaking anxious glances at Chen Ling, afraid he might suddenly fly into a rage.

But Chen Ling showed no reaction.

She had no idea that the Chen Ling before her was no longer the man who was quick to violence.

“Went to the backyard for charcoal? I thought you went out,” Chen Ling said with a smile. Although he’d been here three days, every time he saw this young wife, he couldn’t help but feel a flutter of amazement.

Her delicate, fair face, bright eyes, standing beautifully before him like a camellia—pure and lovely, fragile yet gentle.

Such natural beauty was already rare in the later days when even girls of fifteen or sixteen wore makeup.

But seeing how Wang Suxu shrank back like a frightened rabbit, Chen Ling felt a pang of guilt and tenderness.

What kind of fool would raise a hand against such a wife?

He muttered to himself, then stepped forward to help her pick up the charcoal, but Wang Suxu recoiled in terror.

She instinctively covered her head, her hands blackened and cracked, held up defensively before Chen Ling.

His heart lurched.

“I’ll handle it. Go pour some hot water and wash your hands.”

Looking at this young woman, even though Chen Ling had not yet adapted to his new identity, he felt he had to do something.

Otherwise, it simply didn’t sit right with him.

As soon as he spoke, Wang Suxu paused, her bright almond eyes widening in surprise.

But soon, as though recalling something, her gaze dimmed and she lowered her head, speaking softly: “You don’t have to do this. There’s really no money left at home—only the watch Father gave you when we married. If you really want to go out and play, then… then go…”

Her voice choked, and she squatted on the threshold, unable to finish.

“I…”

Chen Ling was momentarily speechless, unsure how to explain.

Yet Wang Suxu’s reactions gave him a deeper understanding of how awful the original Chen Ling had been.

“Damn it, what a mess he left me!”

A troublesome legacy, indeed.