Chapter 0002: Flying One Centimeter Above the Ground

A glance could meet, yet a step felt like a fortified city; the beloved is separated by mountains and seas, which cannot be leveled.

In life, there are many hard times: when leaving school and entering society, when seeing the person you like being intimate with someone else, when no one believes in you, when you are sad and need companionship but are alone, when you see family and friends in trouble but can do nothing, when you are forced to lie to important people.

And also, when you are tired.

And if you manage to get through all these, you probably become a different person.

People always say that when faced with a choice, you must try, even if you can't prove you can, at least prove that you really can't. Only then can life be complete.

But in reality, life is just a series of multiple-choice questions: go left, go right, sunlight on your face, rain on your head. In the end, what remains is endless regret and remorse.

…

…

Endless darkness came, accompanied by a piercing pain in his head like needles.

"Maybe this is the punishment for death."

This thought flashed through his mind. Zhao Fusheng struggled to open his eyes, and what met them was a white ceiling.

Life has two major pitfalls: one is living for others to see, the other is watching others live. To avoid these pitfalls, you must live your true self.

This was written in a book Zhao Fusheng had read long ago, and he liked that sentence at the time.

But now, he was somewhat confused.

Because at this moment, Zhao Fusheng could clearly feel that he was still in the home he remembered.

The dream hadn't ended?

This thought flashed through his mind. Zhao Fusheng then shook his head; the throbbing pain in his head made him think he was still hungover.

Supporting himself on the bed, he sat up, struggling not to fall. He staggered to the window, pushed it open, and a patch of green came into view.

The warm sunlight fell on him, making him feel lazy and drowsy.

"The gentle starry sky should move you; I am behind you, arranging a sky for you... Accompany you to watch the shooting stars fall on this earth, let your tears fall on my shoulder. Make you believe my love, only brave for you, you will see the place of happiness."

A song from some child's house, familiar yet heartwarming.

But at this moment, Zhao Fusheng stood dumbfounded.

After a long while, his eyes suddenly widened, and a possibility that only existed in movies and novels occurred to him.

Could it be, he was reborn?

Like a drum beating heavily on his chest, Zhao Fusheng's breathing became rapid.

Turning around, he walked toward the bedroom door.

In the living room, his mother was sitting there comforting Uncle Fan's wife. Zhao Fusheng remembered her name was Li Yuan, his mother's high school classmate.

On the sofa was also the Fan family's youngest daughter, three-year-old Fan Beibei.

In a pink dress and white shoes, the little girl sat there like a doll, an angelic sprite fallen from heaven.

Her crystal-clear big eyes widened the moment Zhao Fusheng appeared. Waving her small white hands, she stood up unsteadily, wobbled over to Zhao Fusheng, and hugged his leg.

"Bwother, bwother..."

Fan Beibei, nominally three years old, still had unclear speech and even a milky scent about her.

Zhao Fusheng quickly picked her up, but his eyes were on his mother: "Mom, what's the date today?"

Zhao's mother looked at her son strangely, feeling he was acting odd today, but patiently replied, "June 6th, why?"

"What year?"

"1999. I say, what's wrong with you, child? Why are you talking nonsense today?"

The conversation between mother and son ended, but a huge wave surged in Zhao Fusheng's heart.

Perhaps everyone has thought about what it would be like if they could live their life over again.

But if that day really came, how many could remain calm?

The older we grow, the less we care for the soul's feelings. The flesh carries the burden forward, while the soul weeps behind its hands. Even if the road ahead is full of fog and cliffs, you still have to go far; even if the river is misty and the ferry uncertain, you still have to reach the other shore.

"Jingyi, I'll go back first." Li Yuan glanced at Zhao Fusheng and said to Zhao's mother, whose full name was Zhang Jingyi.

"Oh, Yuanyuan, just bear with it a little longer, bear with it, and everything will be fine in the future."

Zhao's mother glared at her son, then turned to comfort her friend.

Li Yuan smiled bitterly, with a touch of sadness: "I can't even see the present, let alone the future..."

These words struck Zhao Fusheng's heart like a heavy hammer. If he remembered correctly, a month later, Li Yuan would leave home with her youngest daughter, disappearing without a trace.

Gently rubbing the little girl's head, Zhao Fusheng said to Li Yuan, "Aunt Li, why don't you file for divorce in court? At least that way, the house could be kept for you."

When a person looks forward, they cannot connect the dots; they can only connect them looking backward. So people must believe that these dots will connect in their future, must believe in their courage, purpose, life, fate, all of it.

This process won't make you degenerate; it just makes your life more extraordinary.

Sometimes, all we need is a little determination and a different way of thinking.

Li Yuan was stunned by Zhao Fusheng's words. She glanced at Fan Beibei in his arms and silently left the Zhao home. Zhao's mother glared at her son and suddenly said in a low voice, "You brat, why are you meddling? What will you do when they come asking for money?"

Zhao Fusheng was taken aback, then remembered something he had almost forgotten.

It seemed he had taken on Uncle Fan's fifty-thousand-yuan gambling debt.

Damn!

Ten thousand harmonious beasts stampeded through his heart, and Zhao Fusheng felt terrible.

He had thought it was only in a dream that he had been so heroic.

But he never expected it was real!

Taking a deep breath, Zhao Fusheng tried to stand straight. Before he could speak, Zhao's mother had already headed to the Fan house to help Li Yuan clean up the home that had been smashed by debt collectors.

"Bwother, what's wrong?" The little girl's milky voice sounded.

Zhao Fusheng lowered his head, kissed Fan Beibei on the forehead, and said softly, "Beibei, what do you think is the happiest thing in the world?"

Fan Beibei blinked her big, cute eyes, bit her finger, thought for a long time, and then said crisply, "Of course, having endless money."

Pfft!

Zhao Fusheng burst out laughing. He never expected to hear that answer from this little girl.

"Right, the happiest thing in the world is not having to worry about money." Reaching out to rub the little girl's head, Zhao Fusheng turned on the TV, planning to let Beibei watch some cartoons.

For a child of this age, cartoons were undoubtedly a great tool to calm them down quickly.

"Black Bear Sheriff?"

Zhao Fusheng looked at this bizarre cartoon and felt terrible. What the hell was this?

If he remembered correctly, this should be the plot of "Black Cat Sheriff"; he had watched it as a child.

Taking a deep breath, Zhao Fusheng tried to calm himself. He picked up the remote and started changing channels, but in that instant, he noticed the TV brand and his pupils contracted.

"Feitian Brand?"

If he remembered correctly, this color TV should have been a Konka brand.

"Famous director Ma Dajun's latest work 'The Flag Soars' grosses over 100 million yuan."

"New heavenly queen Zhou Feifei's romance ends; she may choose to retire and heal."

"Recently, US President Arthur announced economic sanctions against South Korea to punish it for banning US beef imports."

"Nobel Prize-winning physicist, renowned Chinese-American scientist Professor Yang Zhenning, announces return to China for his twilight years."

Zhao Fusheng frantically pressed the remote, desperately searching for traces of the world in his memory.

But everything in the news, even the advertisements, seemed familiar yet different.

He had thought he was living again, but he never expected that history had taken a slight turn at some crossroads; some things had changed, some had not.

Sitting there, Zhao Fusheng felt lost.