John Walker is reborn, returning to 1976. Using his foresight of the nation's future trends, he helps his father successfully rise to power and govern a region—hoping his father will become a great man! Then, he himself begins a happy and comfortable life as a "magistrate's son."

　　This story centers on political struggles in officialdom. There are no powerful backers, no strong connections, and no "giant hands" from the top intervening at every turn. Promotions are earned by solidly doing real work for the people. Watch as several conscientious officials climb the career ladder!

　　Moderate wish fulfillment, no alternate history, a different kind of officialdom—striving for as much realism as possible!

　　Chapter 1: Rebirth in 1976

　　These days, everything becomes a trend. If you're not careful, even time travel becomes popular.

　　Speaking of time travel, it really is something. For those whose previous lives weren't comfortable, or even rather stifling, if they're lucky enough to travel through time, with their foresight of future events, what advantage can't they take? Naturally, they can have whatever they want, become rich or powerful, or even both, with beauties flocking around—enough to make others green with envy.

　　Someone like me, born at the wrong time, forty years old and still a nobody, barely scraping by working odd jobs for others—how I long for time travel! Why does such a good thing never happen to me?

　　That night, after being chewed out by my boss, I was in a terrible mood and went out to drink alone. They say drinking only makes sorrow worse. My alcohol tolerance was never good, and drinking alone made it worse. After just two or three bottles of beer, I was completely knocked out. I don't even know how I got back to the dorm. In a daze, I stumbled in, collapsed face down, and passed out cold.

　　"Xiao Jun, get up. Hurry and get up, Xiao Jun..." Damn, are they calling me?

　　My full name is John Walker, at least the maintenance supervisor at a Taiwanese-owned factory in a coastal city. A forty-year-old man, with my wife and family far away—who would call me that? Besides, that nickname was only used before I was twelve or thirteen. After starting middle school, only elders at home ever called me that.

　　I must be hearing things.

　　My head felt heavy and groggy, and I was terribly sleepy.

　　"Xiao Jun, get up, you're going to be late..." This time, not only was someone calling me, but a big hand kept shaking me.

　　Late for what?

　　Crap, I must be late for work. These capitalist factories don't believe in days off. To rush orders, our whole factory hasn't had a proper break in almost a month. Even so, yesterday I got chewed out by the boss for not maintaining the machines well enough and affecting shipments. If I'm late again today, who knows what that heartless boss will do to me.

　　Lately, the endless financial crisis in America has the whole world catching a cold, and the Taiwanese are panicking, talking about layoffs every day. If I really get laid off, I wouldn't even have a grave to cry at.

　　Terrified, I jolted awake and sat up straight. Strange, I was never this nimble before. After all, time spares no one. In middle age, even a sit-up is hard to do without using your elbows for help.

　　But... something's not right. Who's calling me?

　　I'm working alone at the factory. My wife isn't here. I'm not some rich guy with a mistress to keep me company all day.

　　When I opened my eyes, I saw a face that seemed both familiar and strange. In an instant, my hair stood on end, and I almost screamed.

　　Grandma!

　　God, the person calling me was actually my grandma!

　　But... but... grandma has been dead for over ten years. This... am I dreaming? But it doesn't feel like a dream.

　　In a panic, I bit my arm hard.

　　Damn, that hurt!

　　"This child, why are you biting yourself?" Grandma was both shocked and distressed, hurriedly grabbing my little hand and rubbing it.

　　Little hand... Wait, why are my arms so thin and small? These are clearly a child's arms. I'm tall and strong, weighing over 160 jin—a standard big guy.

　　I couldn't care about anything else. I raised both hands and looked closely. My arms were white and tender, only a bit thicker than a rolling pin—aren't these a child's arms? Horrified, I lifted the blanket, pulled up my underwear and looked inside. My little willy was white and pink, not a single hair—definitely a child's.

　　I finally couldn't help but scream, screaming hysterically, not caring about anything...

　　My scream scared my grandma half to death (I didn't know who she really was, but let's just call her grandma for now). The old lady, flustered, hugged me and shouted, "Old man, old man, come quick..." I was still screaming when a seventy-something old man strode in and asked in a nasal voice, "What's going on?" That voice was so familiar I stopped screaming at once. Looking closely—oh my god, isn't that my grandpa? Grandpa's voice was always distinctive, very nasal. I grew up listening to his stories—I'd never forget it.