Chapter One: Reborn in 1991, My Father Wants Me to Join the Army

August, 202x, the beginning of autumn.

At fifty, one finally understands fate. Old Liang stared blankly at the ceiling, his eyes lifeless and unfocused, his thoughts drifting. Throughout his life, he had tasted love and hate, endured separations, served in the army as a youth, entered politics as a young man, ventured into business in middle age—rising and falling, experiencing the full spectrum of human existence. By fifty, the turmoil and anxieties within him had at last settled.

He thought he could face the hardships of life with equanimity, but when illness struck, in just over a month, it ravaged his body and, bit by bit, eroded his will. Deep inside, he cried out, "It's not death I fear, but the reluctance, the unwillingness, the lingering attachment to this world."

Footsteps seemed to approach. Old Liang strained to turn his head, glimpsing a figure in a flowing white dress. Yet, as he tried to see the visitor's face clearly, his consciousness grew ever more muddled...

A familiar voice echoed beside him...

"Third Brother, wake up..."

August 1991, the beginning of autumn.

"Third Brother, wake up..."

His head was heavy and clouded, but his eyelids finally lifted, revealing a face more familiar than any other.

Short, neat hair, sharp, handsome features—almost wasted on a woman. Yet, this face belonged to a memory so distant, so young!

This must be a long, long dream, Liang Jiyong mused.

For at this moment, his second sister, Liang Shaoping, was barely in her early twenties, only a year out of university.

"Second Sister!"

Liang Jiyong called out with difficulty.

Hearing his voice, Liang Shaoping paused, then reached out in surprise and touched his forehead.

"No fever... Did someone knock your head silly? You're talking nonsense!"

His head still dizzy, Liang Jiyong felt the cool touch of his sister's hand on his brow—a sensation so real.

Could this not be a dream?

Like Zhuangzi's butterfly, Liang Jiyong could no longer tell if he was dreaming or if the butterfly was dreaming him...

"Don’t just stand there. Father’s waiting for you. If you're late, you’ll get another beating!" Liang Shaoping said, turning to leave the room.

Liang Jiyong watched her retreating figure, taking deep, labored breaths to ease the tightness in his chest.

The air, tinged with the scent of paper, cleared his mind. He looked around—the walls were covered with certificates of merit.

This was the honor wall of the Liang family, though none of these belonged to Liang Jiyong.

They were all awarded to his elder brother Liang Shaoan and his second sister Liang Shaoping.

Liang Shaoan and Liang Shaoping were the pride of the Liang household.

His brother, Liang Shaoan, was a PhD in Mechanical Engineering from Tsinghua, ten years his senior, never placing second in any exam and collecting countless accolades.

His second sister, Liang Shaoping, had graduated with a Master’s in Economics and Management from Lingnan University, after earning her undergraduate degree in Chinese from Yanbei University. Perhaps she caught wind of new trends in Lingnan, prompting her switch to economics for graduate study.

Liang Jiyong, however, had not followed in their footsteps as a model student. Being the youngest and most pampered, he’d become well-acquainted with brawling since junior high, and spent his high school years surviving under his father's strict discipline.

He sat up, walked to the wall, and touched the certificates with trembling hands, overwhelmed with emotion.

He wanted to cry aloud—not from sorrow, but from excitement.

His real body, the world of his youth, everything could begin anew.

He didn't know if this was dream or reality, but if it were a dream, let it never fade.

At the age when one understands fate, Liang Jiyong found himself dreaming back thirty years. He was nineteen once more.

If every moment in his memory had truly happened, if it was his past life, then this was the summer after his senior year of high school.

And he had failed the college entrance exam.

If memory served, today his father would tell him to join the army, and for the first time, had sought out an old comrade to secure him a place.

In those days, enlistment spots were precious.

Indeed, Liang Jiyong had enlisted, served five years, but his upright nature offended someone, and he was forced to leave, transferring to the police.

Ten years of struggle brought some success, but again he offended the wrong people, was framed, nearly jailed, and had to walk away.

Afterwards, he ventured into business for fifteen years, built a modest enterprise, but fate struck with a terminal illness, and now he dreamed back thirty years.

Should he walk the same path?

It was the road he knew best. If he retraced his steps, perhaps he could avoid many pitfalls, maybe even rise through the military ranks.

Thinking of his army days stirred his blood, but the fervor quickly faded.

Military life no longer seemed his true calling.

In peacetime, a soldier’s impact was limited, and without connections, advancement was just as hard.

One regret from his previous life was never attending university.

Though he later earned a degree through work, it was only a credential; he never experienced university life—a true loss.

He now wished to learn systematically.

He would deviate from the old path, but rebirth gave him confidence, allowing him to face it all with composure.

Of course, some things wouldn’t change because he was reborn.

The pulse of the era was constant; his rebirth might be a butterfly’s wing, but some events would not shift with his presence.

He knew some major events were coming, but ultimately, could he change anything? Perhaps nothing at all.

Liang Jiyong exhaled, shook his head. He was thinking too far ahead; he still had to walk step by step.

He rubbed his face, looked in the mirror at his youthful, chiseled features, and smiled.

Youth was a blessing!

He resolved to quit smoking and drinking—he wouldn’t let illness defeat him again in his fifties.

...

Seeing the white hair at his father’s temples, Liang Jiyong’s eyes shimmered with unshed tears.

His father, Liang Dahong, was already fifty-eight. He enlisted at seventeen, fought in a war at eighteen, survived countless dangers, and was wounded in a border conflict in '62—a bullet left a hole in his calf, forcing him to retire and take a post at the Red Flag Machinery Factory.

Now, he was the head of logistics.

Red Flag Machinery Factory was a state-owned giant. The director and party secretary were both at the highest administrative level, and the logistics chief held a comparable rank.

Yet, after nearly thirty years in this lucrative post, his father had never sought personal gain.

While most state-owned factories were mired in crisis, Red Flag Machinery Factory had managed a successful reform; several of its products remained bestsellers.

Though not as prosperous as in decades past, at least wages were rarely delayed.

His father’s role in this was significant.

At least in procurement and management, there had never been issues—unlike other factories plagued by chaos and corruption.

His father wore a pale blue work uniform, faded with age, nearly eight years old.

Though he was no longer young, he still possessed a commanding presence, intimidating whether facing bandits or scoundrels. He and his comrades had once braved gunfire to defend the new China.

Over the years, he’d defended the Red Flag Machinery Factory with the same conviction.

A few years ago, some conspired—inside and out—to target the factory’s logistics warehouse. His father caught them red-handed.

Facing three ruthless thieves, he apprehended two with his bare hands. Had his leg not been impaired, the last wouldn’t have escaped.

“Dad!”

Suppressing his excitement, Liang Jiyong called out.

Liang Dahong sat unmoved, smoking. He tried to speak but coughed, as if the smoke had irritated him.

“Dad, you should cut back on smoking!” Liang Jiyong couldn’t help himself, knowing his father had died of lung disease in his previous life.

Liang Dahong glanced at his youngest son. Liang Shaoping, sitting nearby, fanned away the smoke.

“Dad, Third Brother’s right. Smoking does no good.”

Their father said nothing, merely stubbed out his cigarette and placed it on the ashtray.

“Sit down!”

His tone carried the authority of a soldier.

The siblings had been raised as if they were soldiers themselves—disciplined in daily life and trained in military skills.

If not for their father’s strict demands, Liang Jiyong wouldn’t have become the notorious local brawler.

He sat opposite his father, knowing what was coming next.

He pondered how to persuade his stubborn father to let him repeat his senior year and try for college, rather than enlist.

His father valued education; otherwise, his brother and sister wouldn’t have topped their exams.

Liang Jiyong thought ruefully, if he didn’t have memories from the future, claiming he could pass the college entrance exam after another year of study would be a joke.

“You’re grown now. The factory’s been struggling for years. With your temperament, you’ll end up in security—no future there. Go join the army, toughen yourself up…”

Before Liang Jiyong could speak, his second sister Liang Shaoping voiced her support.

“Enlisting is good. Saves you from causing trouble. Red Flag is okay, but at Red Star Factory and National Cotton Factory, lots of idle young workers have gone astray.”

Red Star, National Cotton, and Red Flag were all once thriving state-owned giants.

Now, all were on the verge of bankruptcy.

Many young workers at Red Star had drifted into the underworld. National Cotton was worse—seventy to eighty percent were female, and many young, attractive workers had become regulars at dance halls and bars just to survive.

From the kitchen, the sound of chopping vegetables ceased. Their mother, Wang Cuiying, though she didn’t come out, was now paying attention.

Enlisting seemed the logical path.

Their father had always hoped one of his children would follow his footsteps and become a soldier.

But his brother and sister were born scholars—self-disciplined, their names dominated the honor roll.

So, by the time it came to Liang Jiyong, their parents assumed there was little to worry about. The children of the Liang family were all academic material.

Yet, they overlooked external influences.

Society was changing, extracurricular lives growing richer. Left unchecked, Liang Jiyong was easily drawn into various entertainments: comic books, roller-skating, billiards, swimming.

In junior high, his grades were decent, if not as stellar as his siblings, but still near the top.

But in high school, he started skipping classes and fighting, not just with classmates, but also with boys from other schools and even local toughs.

“Dad, I don’t want to be a soldier. I want to repeat my senior year and go to college!” Liang Jiyong looked his father in the eye as he spoke.

His father was surprised—repeat, go to college?