Chapter One: Returning to the Past

The bell of Nasdaq tolled, and overnight, Chen Huajiang’s net worth soared into ten figures.

Within the extravagant halls of a seven-star hotel, he was surrounded by ardent socialites and glamorous actresses. Yet, Chen Huajiang found himself on the balcony, leaning on the rail, gazing into the distance, radiating an inexplicable sense of solitude.

He let out a sigh and drained his glass in one gulp.

Then, the world spun.

He awoke in a small room, lying on a cold, hard floor.

“Ugh…”

Something pressed painfully against his back. He reached out and found a bottle—rough, emerald green, without a label, reeking of cheap liquor.

His head throbbed.

“Xiao Li!”

“Xiao Li?”

His attentive, ever-present personal secretary had let him sleep on the floor?

Whenever Chen Huajiang was hungover, he always woke up in the comfort of a warm, soft mattress.

“What’s going on today?”

Xiao Li, always available around the clock, failed to respond.

Puzzled, Chen Huajiang sat up, aching all over.

“Chen Huajiang, you heartless man, I married you despite my family’s objections, and now you not only hit me but go after other women?”

A plaintive female voice suddenly rang out.

He was stunned.

“Married to me?”

“Who?”

In his youth, poverty made marriage impossible. After achieving fame and fortune, he believed he had seen through the ways of men and women—too many women flocked to him for money, their affections mere transactions. Thus, he had always remained single. When did he acquire a wife?

“Who is Xiao Li?”

With a shuffle and a waft of fragrance, a woman appeared.

He turned to look.

In plastic slippers were a pair of delicate feet, toes so lovely they seemed almost translucent; two smooth, straight legs led up to a pale yellow gauzy nightdress.

Her waist was slender, barely an arm’s span, but her chest was full and striking.

A graceful neck supported a young and beautiful face, marked by sorrow.

Such appearance and figure would make her a top-tier star, yet he had no recollection of her.

Could it be a fleeting encounter, and she was now claiming to be his wife?

As this suspicion crossed his mind, his expression cooled.

He had long commanded respect; his aura alone was formidable.

Now, as he set his jaw, his presence was intimidating, and the woman recoiled two steps in fear.

“You—what are you doing? Are you going to hit me again?”

Only then did Chen Huajiang notice the obvious bruise around her eyes.

Had he gone too far last night?

How did Xiao Li arrange this?

Where was he?

What on earth was happening?

He rubbed his head fiercely, and stood up.

Looking up, he saw a black-and-white wedding photograph hanging on the wall.

A young couple, smiling sweetly and happily—it was himself and the woman beside him.

Now standing, he towered over her, and saw her flawless figure, the graceful curves stirring a ripple in his heart.

“Hmm?”

Chen Huajiang, seasoned in pleasure, believed he’d seen it all, and with age, his body was no longer so easily aroused. Yet now, his reaction was strange.

Suddenly, his head throbbed intensely.

A torrent of memories surged into his mind—scenes from childhood to adulthood, all flashing before him.

Chen Huajiang, twenty-three years old, fired from the Red Flag Factory for fighting. After getting drunk, he hit his wife, Lin Jiayin, and had a three-year-old daughter, Chen Huanhuan, playing alone outside.

“I’ve been transported?”

“So now…”

He glanced at an old paper calendar hanging on the wall.

“1985!”

He had to accept this truth.

“Are you… alright?”

Seeing the injury on Lin Jiayin’s face, he tried to approach, but his foot splashed through water.

The floor was littered with puddles and broken pieces from a shattered kettle, utter chaos.

“Couldn’t you have been gentler? With this mark on my face, how can I go to work tomorrow?”

“My colleagues will mock me again, sob…”

Lin Jiayin crouched down, hugging her arms and crying in grievance.

Chen Huajiang felt awkward; her nightdress was too thin, and he could see everything.

Before, he had only encountered women’s flattering smiles and transparent fake tears.

This genuine, heartbroken weeping—especially because of him—was a first.

“Sorry.”

Perhaps he had fully settled into this body, but Chen Huajiang now regarded Lin Jiayin as his wife.

His apology startled her.

“What did you say?”

She stood up, her face pitiful and surprised.

“I said, I’m sorry.”

His tone was earnest.

Lin Jiayin suddenly looked as if she understood.

“There’s really no money left at home for you to buy liquor.”

She thought his change in attitude was a ploy for money.

Chen Huajiang smiled bitterly, unable to explain.

“Ouch! It hurts!”

Suddenly, a young girl’s miserable cry sounded outside.

“Huanhuan!”

Lin Jiayin’s expression changed, and she rushed out.

“You little brat, I’ll beat you!”

A woman in her thirties, with raised eyebrows and thin lips, was pulling Huanhuan’s ear and smacking her bottom.

“Stop!”

Lin Jiayin hurried over and embraced her daughter.

“Sister Ma, why are you hitting Huanhuan?!”

Lin Jiayin was gentle by nature, even when agitated she didn’t get angry, only shedding tears for her daughter.

“This brat dared to bite my son—unbelievable!”

Sister Ma, named Ma Hongfeng, placed her hand on her waist and pulled over her son, a four or five-year-old boy.

“He stole my toy first and called Mommy a bad woman!” Huanhuan sobbed.

“Your mom is a bad woman and you’re the bastard child of a bad woman!” The boy threw a rag doll to the ground, stomping it until its white cloth was covered in black footprints.

“Give me back my doll, sob…”

Huanhuan cried bitterly for her toy.

Such words must be taught by adults. Lin Jiayin glared at Ma Hongfeng in anger.

“Why are you staring at me? Look at you, dressing all slutty every day, desperate for every man’s attention—you're nothing but trash!”

Ma Hongfeng pointed at Lin Jiayin’s nose, scolding her.

“You!”

Lin Jiayin was so angry she could barely speak.

Her clothes were always modest, but her figure drew men’s gazes regardless, so Ma Hongfeng spread rumors about her.

Unable to match Ma Hongfeng in argument, Lin Jiayin could only hold her daughter and cry, utterly helpless.

At that moment, Chen Huajiang staggered out of the house.

Ma Hongfeng glanced at him but paid no mind.

She bullied Lin Jiayin often; Chen Huajiang never intervened. As long as he had liquor, he didn’t care.

Seeing Lin Jiayin’s silence, Ma Hongfeng became more arrogant, shouting loudly.

“Everyone, come look! Lin Jiayin, that shameless seductress, has no shame at all!”

Her voice drew people out to watch.

A sharp slap rang out.

Her shouting stopped abruptly, and a bright red mark appeared on her face.

Chen Huajiang had struck Ma Hongfeng hard, leaving her stunned.