Chapter One William Clark

The joys and sorrows of pigs are not the same as his own; William Clark just found them noisy.

Hmm?

He scratched his head, feeling like something was off.

It was the summer of August 2001, and he was squatting at the entrance of an ICBC branch, watching a truck full of pigs slowly drive away.

Of course, on this sunny, breezy afternoon, he wasn’t sitting by the roadside to watch pigs... Well, okay, he was watching pigs.

Because he was just too bored. No smartphones, no Weibo, no Bilibili, no fun rumor-busting office, and definitely no livestreams or dancing girls—life was utterly joyless.

Thinking back on how he’d struggled for half his life, finally managed to buy an apartment in the food market district, was in the middle of a promising blind date, and before he could even settle in—bam, he was reborn...

So rushed! Way too rushed!

William Clark touched his hair—which would cost at least 80,000 yuan for a transplant in the future—straightened his flat, toned stomach, felt the abundant energy in his crotch, and sighed, playing humble after getting lucky:

“Forget it! For the sake of being 21 again.”

This was William Clark’s hometown, a remote small city in Northeast China.

Diagonally across from him was a small square, with a gray, timeworn building standing there, a banner from last month hanging at the entrance:

“Warm congratulations on Beijing’s successful Olympic bid!”

That was the only cinema in town. Old cinemas were all auditorium-style, two floors, a big screen, could show movies and host performances, easily seating a thousand people.

He’d watched all sorts of movies organized by the school there, various cultural performances, prison inmate shows, and even Lee Lai-Chun’s “Peach.”

That was still in the distant—no, actually, just the late 90s, when the cinema was about to close down, and they boldly posted a sign outside: “No entry under 18!”

He’d just gotten his ID card and couldn’t wait to shove it in the ticket seller’s face.

Back then, Japanese AV stars weren’t familiar faces yet; every boy’s dream girl was from Hong Kong. Even though he’d already seen some pirated discs, the feeling in a cinema was something else.

Unfortunately, it was later torn down. The small city went years without a cinema, until finally one opened on the top floor of a shopping mall—that was already the era of rapidly developing urban and rural cinema chains.

“Beep beep!”

An armored cash transport vehicle slowly drove up, honked at him twice, and William Clark scuttled sideways like a crab to make way. Two armed guards jumped out, gave him a cold once-over, and decided this lazy guy was no threat at all.

William Clark’s gaze followed the cash box into the bank, and he couldn’t help but sigh over the savings from his previous life. He dug into his pocket—32.5 yuan in total.

A 50-cent coin, a 2-yuan bill—the green kind, with minority women on the front and the Southern Sky Column on the back... Some kids these days have never even seen one.

Looking at himself: short sleeves, baggy shorts, sandals showing his feet—a total street punk vibe.

“Sigh, all I have is youth.”

“Nothing to do, time to go home!”

He patted his butt and stood up, walked west from the ICBC, turned a few corners, and about ten minutes later stopped at the gate of a high school staff housing complex.

He didn’t go upstairs, but entered the small shop at the entrance and said, “Can I make a call?”

At that time, most small shops had public phones, usually 50 cents per minute for local calls.

William Clark dialed his home landline, kept it short: “Hello? Mom, I’m downstairs, come down!”

He hung up, browsed the shelves for a while, and grabbed the most familiar bottle of Master Kong iced black tea, brand new packaging, with “Full of Ice Power” written on it.

Memories surfaced in his mind—maybe from this life, maybe the last. Master Kong had hired Richie Jen as a spokesperson and shot a popular commercial. The song was called “Full of Ice Power.”

Question: How popular was Richie Jen back then?

Answer: He played Yang Guo, Linghu Chong, and Chu Liuxiang.

“Tsk tsk!”

William Clark complained inwardly, and after a short wait, his parents came down.

His dad was Edward Clark, wore glasses, slightly curly hair, a lively face, good at rambling about history and current events in class, making up nonsense.

His mom was Linda Carter, approaching middle age and a bit plump, with stern features. Her signature move was silently appearing at the back door of the classroom, exuding an overwhelming aura that dominated the room.

That’s right, both were high school teachers—one taught Chinese, the other math.

You know, math teachers make more money.

Before the tutoring industry collapsed, top teachers could earn over 100,000 yuan in a single vacation tutoring high schoolers. But in this era, at this school and price level, a student paid a few hundred yuan.

The family was pretty well-off, and his parents doted on him. He’d never lacked for anything, and William Clark had done them proud by getting into a university in Beijing.

When Linda Carter saw her son, her stern face instantly softened. “Where did you wander off to?”

“Just strolling around. Wanted to see a movie, but the theater wasn’t open.”

“That rundown cinema’s about to be torn down, what do you mean open?”

“Why is it being torn down?”

“The government’s out of money, sold the land. I heard they’re going to build something.”

“An apartment building?”