But, he passed away even earlier than my grandmother—I remember it was when I was twenty-five. Now, more than a decade has passed, so how did he suddenly appear again? I really don’t understand!

“Little John must be under some kind of spell…” Grandma said anxiously.

My arm was still burning with pain, so it seemed this wasn’t a dream. I forced myself to calm down and tried to sort out my chaotic thoughts. If this wasn’t a dream, then there was only one possibility—I had traveled through time.

At that thought, I completely calmed down.

Damn, it’s finally my turn to experience time travel. I couldn’t help but feel a surge of wild joy. Whether this time travel is good or bad, it can’t possibly be worse than the life I had yesterday. A forty-year-old man, accomplished nothing, working for others, earning just three or four thousand yuan a month.

Seeing that I wasn’t crying or making a fuss, Grandpa was quite displeased and said, “Old woman, what nonsense are you talking about? Isn’t Little John just fine?”

Grandma was also a bit puzzled. She grabbed me and looked me over carefully, muttering under her breath.

My paternal grandparents had already passed away before I was born. Both my parents were government employees, and I remember being raised by my grandparents as a child. It seems I not only traveled through time, but actually traveled back into my own body.

Could this be the legendary rebirth through time travel? If that’s the case, did I really get taken out by less than three bottles of beer in my previous life? That’s just hilarious. Never got drunk in my whole life, and the one time I did, this is the result? Damn, what rotten luck.

“Little John, Little John…” I was lost in thought when Grandma, seeing my blank stare and dazed look, grew anxious again.

I snapped back to reality, gave Grandma a sweet smile, and called out, “Grandma.”

“Ai… Little John, what’s wrong with you?”

“I’m fine, really.”

“Oh, you nearly scared Grandma to death…” Grandma was about to keep nagging, but Grandpa, already quite annoyed, said, “Old woman, what are you rambling on about? Hurry up and get Little John dressed, he needs to go to school.” Right, school. I remember only attending elementary school in my hometown for a year before transferring to the county school. By that calculation, I should be seven years old now, which means it’s 1976.

After getting dressed, Grandma washed my face and handed me a soft, roasted sweet potato.

Looking at the little gray cotton “Mao-style” jacket I was wearing, the sweet potato in my hand, and my grandparents’ familiar, kind faces, then carefully examining the old, gray room around me, I was certain I had returned to 1976.

“Little John, eat up, so you can go to school after.” Grandma spoke as she took out a khaki cotton book bag.

I nodded, peeled off the charred skin of the roasted sweet potato, and took big bites.

Mmm, I hadn’t eaten roasted sweet potato in years. It really was delicious. In my memory, 1976 was a time of extreme material scarcity. Not just for kids—even adults had nothing more than one or two roasted sweet potatoes for breakfast. Looks like this sweet potato is my ration for the whole morning—won’t I be starving and growling with hunger?

I couldn’t help but worry.

Come on, what are you worried about? You’re just a seven-year-old kid now, not a 160-pound grown man! With such a big roasted sweet potato, you’ll be stuffed—why worry about being hungry?

Sigh, my body may be seven years old again, but my mind is still forty. No wonder my head is a mess.

No, I need to find some peace and quiet to sort out my thoughts.

Seeing how much I was enjoying the food, Grandma was delighted, her eyes crinkling into slits as she smiled.

“My Little John really is a good boy…” Grandma, my dearest, dearest grandma—I never dreamed I’d get to see you again. This is truly wonderful. Regardless of how hard this path of rebirth may be, just being able to spend another twenty years with my grandparents is a gift from heaven. I must cherish this rare happiness.

I finished the roasted sweet potato in big bites, slung my book bag over my shoulder, reluctantly said goodbye to my grandparents, and stepped out the door.

My hometown is in Liujia Mountain Brigade, Hongqi Commune, Xiangyang County, Baozhou area, N Province in the south—a remote, mountainous inland hilly region. Liujia Mountain Brigade—just hearing the name, you know it’s not a land of abundance.

Stepping over the tall bluestone threshold, I took a deep breath to steady my excited heart and also to get my bearings. In my previous life, I lived in this ordinary farmhouse—half blue brick, half earth brick—for a full seven years. Childhood memories are etched deep in my bones, never to be forgotten.

As soon as I stepped out, a cool mountain breeze hit me in the face. Grandma had only dressed me in a single shirt and thin cotton pants, so it must have been early August in the lunar calendar, early September in the Gregorian calendar—just after the start of the school year.

Liujia Mountain Elementary School, the only elementary school in the whole brigade, was about two li east from our door. Even though I was only seven, short and with little legs, such a short distance was nothing for me.