Past and Present Lives

After feeding a bun to his father and then another to his mother, Chang’an Fang picked up an old first-year English textbook he had borrowed for summer tutoring, dragged a stool to the doorway, and sat down, spreading the book open on his lap. He gazed out at the rain, lost in thought.

Since his rebirth, after the initial shock and doubts, his mind had been consumed by worry over today’s “flood ordeal.” He’d had little energy to consider anything else. Now that he had survived and changed his fate, he could finally calm himself and think things through.

As an avid reader of online novels—the type to travel the world with a knife in search of authors—Chang’an Fang had read his fair share of reincarnation stories: Great Nirvana, Rekindled, A Hundred Ways for That Dog Chen to Die, and so on.

Once he accepted the reality of his rebirth, he began considering what he could actually do with this second chance, quickly sinking into self-doubt.

Because in those stories, the protagonists’ “unchangeable” starting points—family in the city, relatives with minor official posts or jobs—were already his loftiest goals.

For instance, having relatives who were officials, parents who were white-collar workers, family who ran businesses, knowing where a corrupt official hid his bribes, or even having a class belle in school—he had none of these.

To be frank, up until graduating college in his previous life, he’d never heard of any girl at his school being called a class or campus beauty; that seemed to exist only in TV dramas and novels.

Maybe he’d just attended the wrong kind of schools.

The Fang family lived in a small village on the North China Plain called Majia Ditch. Later, when he drove home and checked the navigation, he saw it was now called Majia Village, probably because the old name sounded too rustic—though the new one wasn’t exactly elegant either.

Their living conditions were now even more dire. When he got into the junior high in town, they couldn’t even afford the 230 yuan tuition; in the end, his grandfather had to cover it with his retirement money—nine years of compulsory education wouldn’t be universal here until after he’d finished middle school.

Once upon a time, the Fang family had been prosperous, though that was generations ago—back to the days of Fang Xuanling, the famous strategist; most Fangs claimed descent from him, though even Fang Xuanling himself would probably be hard-pressed to verify it.

In truth, their branch of the Fang family had settled in Majia Ditch during the Republic era, after fleeing there. Their ancestral home wasn’t far, just in the neighboring county’s Fang Stronghold. They still kept the family naming traditions, and a few years ago, his grandfather even made a special trip to update the genealogy.

He’d gone to Fang Stronghold once as a child, apparently for a family funeral. He remembered the food was delicious, but he ate too slowly and others were too quick, so he never got his fill and was too embarrassed to say anything—he went hungry for half the day.

A little closer to the present, his great-grandfather had seen better days too, once a regimental commander in the Nationalist Army. According to his father, Lu Jun Fang, the old man had the foresight to let several underground operatives go before Liberation. Unfortunately, by the time those men came to repay the favor, he’d already passed away; otherwise, the Fang family’s situation might not be so bleak today.

But for all his life teaching others, he’d failed his own five children: two daughters who could barely read, and three sons—two finished high school but then idled away at home, developing habits of gambling and drinking, which persisted even after marriage—namely, Lu Jun Fang and his younger brother Lu Yong Fang, both notorious in the neighboring villages as men who “couldn’t hold down a life.”

His eldest uncle, Lu Guo Fang, was the only exception, getting into teacher’s college and now teaching at the town’s Number Two Middle School—Chang’an’s own school—but that was his own doing, nothing to do with the old man.

Lu Yong Fang, the youngest, was doted on by their parents and did all right. When Lu Jun Fang first married, life was pretty good; he farmed and ran a small business selling cloth at the market, often taking his wife and son to the city. They were the envy of the whole village.

After their eldest, Chang’an, was born, Lu Jun Fang and his wife Cong Rong wanted a daughter, so they tried again but got another son; they went for a third, and finally had a girl, achieving the ideal “both son and daughter.”

But because they violated the national family planning policy, Cong Rong had to hide with the child, but was eventually caught and fined a hefty sum. On top of that, Lu Jun Fang’s gambling debts mounted, the small business collapsed, and life grew increasingly difficult.

Without the business, Lu Jun Fang became even more idle. Cong Rong, naive and soft-hearted, had never learned to manage him. Eventually, when the family’s debts grew and collectors came knocking every New Year, she tried to take control—but by then, Lu Jun Fang’s bad habits were too ingrained.

After Lu Jun Fang died in his previous life, Cong Rong was left to raise three children alone, plus a heap of gambling debts—many owed to clan brothers who, after a family meeting, decided the debts would die with him and no one was to collect them.

Even so, Cong Rong secretly found out who was owed and spent over a decade paying them off, one by one.

Those gambling debts, by later standards, didn’t amount to twenty thousand yuan, hardly the price of rescuing a wayward schoolgirl. But in those days, they were a crushing mountain over the family.

Cong Rong went out to work, earning barely six hundred yuan a month, yet supporting three children through school. Only she could know the true hardship of those years.

Chang’an Fang remembered clearly: before his mother went to work, she was thirty-six but looked barely twenty. When she visited him at school, his classmates all thought she was his sister.

By the time he graduated college, his mother looked ten years older than her age.

Because of Lu Jun Fang’s failings, Cong Rong developed a hatred for gambling and drinking. Her constant refrain to her three children was: “When you grow up, all three of you must leave Majia Ditch! Never come back! Never gamble! If I see any of you playing cards, I’ll poison you with rat poison!”

All these experiences filled Chang’an Fang with loathing for his hometown. Even before his rebirth, though unmarried, he was already planning to set up his own household, calling it “Chang’an Hall” and severing ties with his roots.

Now, having returned from the future, these feelings hadn’t faded. He had no interest in “giving back” to his hometown. Old habits die hard, and it would take more than three or five years to change things.

Besides, to root out rural vices, you’d have to start from the top. Take the road behind the village leading to town—he remembered at least four times when every household was asked to chip in to repair it.

The money was always collected. The road? Sometimes a thin layer of coal ash was spread, gone in a month—if anything happened at all.

With a road like that, Chang’an Fang doubted the problem was just at the grassroots.

When the government’s targeted poverty relief came later, the roads did get fixed, and every family had money to build new houses. But then, money became the only thing on everyone’s mind.

Although Chang’an suffered hardship early on, his mother shouldered most of the burden. Later, his younger brother Changming Fang dropped out before finishing middle school to work and help out. As the eldest, Chang’an was spared—for the sake of his good grades, the family did everything to keep him in school. Aside from guilt and meager living expenses, he never truly faced life’s pressures directly.

Chang’an was a late bloomer; rebellious in high school, wasteful, and reckless, he did many things he’d later regret. Only after seeing the world in college did he slowly wise up.

After graduating, he caught the rising tide of mobile internet and started a small company of his own. Earning a million yuan a year wasn’t hard—in the city, such companies were a dime a dozen, rise and fall with the wind. But in the village, that made him a figure of envy and wonder.

The family, once despised, suddenly became the toast of the town. The satisfaction was real, but witnessing the dramatic shift in his relatives’ attitudes only deepened his distaste for their mercenary ways.

Having suffered hardship young, Chang’an Fang had strong views. He knew well that “only when the granaries are full do people know propriety”—it was natural. He believed his hometown would change as the country grew stronger and people richer. But his own memories were too deeply etched; he had no desire to participate in or promote that process, just to settle down somewhere civilized and live quietly with his family.

He took a deep breath. The rural air of this era—he couldn’t say it was better than the other side of the ocean, having never been there, but he imagined it was no worse. The rain-soaked freshness was invigorating.

He tried to brainstorm resources he could use, but came up empty. The lofty ambitions that had once surged in his chest now felt deflated.

He’d matured late in his previous life, only coming into his own in college—chasing girls, starting a career, doing all right. But as for opportunities in this era, all he remembered was the gloom hanging over his family, and given his young age, he knew little of the outside world—no clear path to wealth came to mind.

His family’s starting point was just too low, resources scarce. The only two who’d amounted to anything were his grandfather and eldest uncle.

Grandfather was retired, respected in the village but with little influence.

His uncle taught at the town’s middle school—later, he could rely on his protection in school, calling out, “My uncle’s a teacher here!” if anyone bullied him.

And that was about it.

As for knowledge of the times, it was limited: SARS had just ended, the country was about to take off, it was wise to buy property as soon as possible—even if you had to borrow. Beyond that, all that seemed left was to study hard.

“Am I really the most unfortunate reincarnator?” Chang’an Fang muttered to himself. He supposed not—at least both his parents were alive, and he had younger siblings to boss around. That was better than some protagonist with a cheat system.

Lu Jun Fang had already gone back to the bedroom to watch TV. Changming and Yanran Fang had each eaten several buns; hearing the TV inside, they quietly slipped away.

Cong Rong was washing clothes at the door in a white enamel basin with a red carp painted on it. Yanran Fang, remembering her brother’s instructions, skipped over, squatted down, and scrubbed her hands a couple of times. Cong Rong protested, “Your hands are all greasy…”

The little girl giggled, quickly washed her hands, went behind the door to grab a towel, and ran off to watch TV with her parents. She glanced back and shouted at her brother, “Second Brother, you didn’t wash your hands!”

Changming glared at her, so Yanran called out to Chang’an, “Big Brother, Second Brother didn’t wash his hands!”

Chang’an looked over; Changming, meeting his brother’s gaze, also ran over to the enamel basin, splashed his hands a couple of times—barely wetting the backs—and wiped them behind the door.

Cong Rong scolded, “Don’t shake your hands everywhere… Is that washing? You didn’t even get your paws wet!”

But Changming ignored her, ran into the bedroom, found a stool, and sat quietly to watch TV.

The family had an old black-and-white television, bought when the parents married. Back then it was a rare thing; even when Chang’an was in elementary school, neighbors would come over to watch.

In recent years, most households had bought color TVs with good reception, so the three siblings often went to other houses to watch. Unlike his brother and sister, Chang’an had always been shy. Sometimes, even when Changming and Yanran asked him to join, he’d hesitate, needing an excuse to go—usually calling his siblings home, and then ending up watching TV himself.