2. Return to the Past

In the darkness, voices murmured.

“Huh? There’s a kid here. Should we kill him as well?”

“Oh, his clothes are pretty decent. Looks like he’s their son. Mother’s love is truly remarkable, pushing him so far away... Let’s leave him. He seems unconscious—he won’t know we killed his parents. Let him live.”

“Surprising that after so many years as an assassin, you still have sympathy…”

“We only got paid for two; I refuse to take one more life. Otherwise, we’d be losing money.”

“Tch, who would believe you! Let’s go, the traffic police are coming. If they see us, it’ll be trouble.”

What does that mean?

What does that mean?

What are they talking about…

Suddenly, his eyes snapped open. He saw two pairs of shoes walking away. He must be lying on the ground—he wanted to move, but couldn’t.

The two didn’t walk far before Ye Feng heard an explosion, and then he slipped back into unconsciousness.

…

Even while unconscious, Ye Feng was still haunted by Shu Juan’s departure. In his mind, he refused to accept the pain, pleading, “Please, don’t leave me. Please, don’t leave me…”

Abruptly, he opened his eyes.

Instinctively, he glanced around. It was a hospital room, old-fashioned by his standards. The time was near dusk; through the window, the sunset glowed crimson, and beyond it lay a vista of more old buildings. Not far away, a wall calendar hung, the kind torn off day by day, its pages still crisp: June 6, 2023.

Ye Feng wasn’t surprised. He thought he hadn’t truly woken and must still be dreaming. Not only did he feel no astonishment, he even chuckled at himself—had he gone mad, fantasizing about traveling through time? He closed his eyes, shook his head, and opened them again. The calendar still read June 6, 2023. He pinched himself hard—“Ah!”—the pain was real!

At that moment, fear seized him. He looked at his much smaller hands. It was real! He had truly returned to the age of nine, and it was the very day his parents met their fate. His heart was a maelstrom of emotions—joy and sorrow mingled together. It was a blend of every flavor.

Thinking back, he recalled that on June 6, 2023, at this hour, he should have been in the Central People’s Hospital of Haifeng City. In his previous life, he knew nothing; he had thought his parents’ deaths were accidents. This time, he awoke early enough to realize their deaths were orchestrated, not accidental. Everything in his life would now change.

His shoulder was still wrapped in gauze, throbbing with pain, but such discomfort meant little to him at this moment. He got out of bed and opened the cabinet beside him, hoping to find something that would confirm his current identity. Inside, there was only a set of tattered clothes, a thermal lunchbox, and a few pieces of fruit. He crawled to the foot of the bed, just as he remembered, and found a nameplate hanging there.

Ye Feng…

He slowly walked to the window, pulled back the curtain, and looked outside. The sun had not yet set. Ye Feng remembered that last time, he had awakened at night, with injuries so severe he could barely move. This time, not only had he overheard that conversation, his wounds were lighter. Was fate reshuffling the cards?

Ye Feng lay back in bed, pondering his next move. Now that he knew his parents hadn’t died by accident, he could not let the person who destroyed his family escape justice. His first task was to face those shameless relatives. He recalled that when he woke at night, those relatives had swarmed in, leaving him dizzy, then promptly divided up the last of his family’s assets. Years had passed, and Ye Feng could barely remember the details from the hospital. He glanced around again and eyed the shabby clothes. The more he looked, the more uneasy he felt. He walked over and rummaged through them. The left side of the shirt was badly torn—he must have been lying on the right side when the car exploded. Other parts were scuffed, probably from rolling on the ground when his mother pushed him out of the car. The two outer pockets held nothing. The four pockets on the pants contained only a wallet and a cellphone. He pulled them out and placed them aside, then checked every pocket again—there was nothing else.

Ye Feng opened the wallet. Aside from a few hundred yuan, some credit cards, and his ID—which, since 2020, everyone in China received at birth—there was nothing of use. He searched inside and out twice, but found no useful information. After some thought, he put the wallet back in his pants pocket.

He picked up the cellphone and immediately thought, “This isn’t mine.” Ever since he could remember, Ye Feng knew his family was wealthy; his phones were always the latest models, never something so small, and especially not red—his least favorite color. It must have belonged to his mother.

Ye Feng was about to investigate the phone further when he heard faint footsteps approaching in the corridor. He quickly lay down and closed his eyes.

Sure enough, a few seconds later, the door creaked open. Someone entered, stood by his bedside, and looked at him. Ye Feng remained still, so the visitor believed he was still unconscious and quietly moved to the cabinet. There was a soft rustling—she was searching his clothes. Ye Feng opened his eyes a sliver and saw a woman in a nurse’s uniform. From her figure, she seemed about twenty-five or twenty-six, with jet-black hair so lustrous it seemed almost transparent. From Ye Feng’s angle, he could barely see that she was searching very carefully for something. He was relieved he had acted first; even if there was nothing useful on the phone, had he waited a bit longer, it would surely have been taken. He remembered that last time he woke up, there had been no phone in his pocket.

After watching for a moment, Ye Feng closed his eyes again. The woman found nothing, glanced at him, and quietly left. When she had been gone for a while and Ye Feng was certain the room was empty, he opened his eyes.

Things were becoming increasingly complicated. His parents had just died, and already someone was searching his belongings. If he hadn’t feigned unconsciousness, he might have been dragged off for questioning.

He didn’t know whether to feel fortunate or sorrowful. The last time he had muddled through in a coma; now, so much had happened without his knowledge.

With the room empty, Ye Feng decided not to check the phone. He didn’t know if anyone else would come, and he didn’t want his hidden enemies to discover he was awake.

From memory, Ye Feng recalled that he should wake at ten in the evening. Around eight, his relatives would arrive, gathering outside the ward to brazenly discuss how to divide his father’s estate—not caring at all that Ye Feng, ‘unconscious,’ lay inside. How cold and fickle human nature could be!

The most shameless was his second uncle: his father had looked after him most in life, and now, after his death, the uncle insisted nothing should be left to Ye Feng. While Ye Feng was still hospitalized, he wanted all movable assets converted to cash and split among themselves. This left Ye Feng feeling bitter. In his previous life, he would have rushed out to argue with these wolves in human clothing, but now he refrained. After all, he was no longer a nine-year-old boy; in the years since, he’d seen such things too many times.

But the noisy quarrels outside didn’t last long before his second uncle’s shrill voice rang out, “What! All assets frozen? Cars and houses will be seized? What’s left to divide?”

The discussion outside shifted to how much money remained. At first, those who still had a bit of conscience wanted to leave Ye Feng some funds for living, but upon hearing that all property would be seized by the bank, they lost interest. Only the furniture left in those villas added up to a few million; with more than ten people, each would only get a few hundred thousand, so who would care to leave anything for him? Any pretense of family affection vanished under the lure of money.

At that moment, Ye Feng could only laugh and think, “The power of money is truly immense!” Listening to their conversation, he thought of Luo Ming—a friend two years older, also from a wealthy family, but always a maverick. He disliked flaunting wealth, even had a kind of anti-rich sentiment, and loved standing up for injustice. He couldn’t stand unfairness.

An accident in childhood had made Ye Feng and Luo Ming fast friends. After the car accident, Luo Ming wanted to help Ye Feng, but Ye Feng stubbornly refused. Eventually, Luo Ming’s father insisted he study abroad, and the two saw each other only once or twice a year.

Luo Ming was the only friend Ye Feng could rely on.

Ye Feng recovered quickly and was soon discharged. This time, unlike in his previous life, he refused to be manipulated. He asked Luo Ming for help, and the Luo family took him in—his mother was distantly related to them.

After leaving the hospital, Ye Feng went to buy a cellphone identical to the one he’d found in the ward. Though small, it was surprisingly expensive. Luo Ming mocked him, saying it was a girl’s phone.

The new phone was bought merely as a decoy; it was destroyed the same day. In the phone found in the hospital, Ye Feng discovered a voice message—left by his mother.

“Feng’er, if I had a choice, I really wouldn’t want you to hear this message. If you’re listening, it means your father and I are gone. Feng’er, you must live well, live happily. What I say next you must remember! It concerns your future! Your father and I left something in the secret room at the ancestral house, but you’ll have to find the room yourself. You must remember! For five years, you cannot look for that room. That item could cost you your life, and you mustn’t tell anyone you know about its existence. If I could, I’d hope you never look for it in your lifetime. Maybe not finding it would be best for you. Child, we love you! Farewell!”

The message ended there. Just over a minute, a few short sentences, and after hearing them, Ye Feng was stunned. It was only after a while, when he touched his face, that he realized he was crying. Was this a mother’s love? He hadn’t expected, thirteen years after his parents’ deaths, to finally feel a love he’d never known.

He clenched his fists in secret, vowing to avenge his parents! Looking at the recording, Ye Feng pressed delete, but his hand hesitated over the confirmation button, reluctant to erase the motherly love he’d just experienced. In the end, he forced himself to confirm.

(End)