Taking the initiative to get to know Zachary Smith, there has to be a reason. Am I supposed to tell Dad that this Zachary Smith is about to have a stroke of luck, will soon return to the provincial capital to become a high-ranking official, and if we don’t get acquainted now, we’ll miss our chance? Saying that would be pure suicide—Dad would think I’m crazy.

In my previous life, I read plenty of time-travel novels, but I’ve never seen a time traveler dare to actually say the word “time travel” out loud.

“Yezi, Little Emily, Little John, come here, Daddy’s going to quiz you!” Dad called out to the three of us siblings with a beaming smile.

Heh, in my past life’s memories, this expression of Dad’s is very familiar. When I was little, every time he came home, he’d do this. Most of the time, it was to quiz us on addition and subtraction, sometimes on new characters.

I never expected that after being reborn, at the age of forty, I’d still be playing this game with Dad. The corners of my mouth curled into a barely noticeable wry smile. But since this kind of “quiz” makes Dad happy, why wouldn’t a son go along with it?

“Li li yuan shang cao…” Dad began to recite.

Hmm? He’s going to quiz us on Tang poetry? I’m only in first grade—did Dad teach me this poem before? Maybe he did. My memories of early childhood from my previous life are so distant, there’s no way I could remember that clearly.

“With each year it withers and flourishes, wildfires can’t destroy it, when the spring breeze blows it grows again.” I followed Dad and recited the rest in one breath. Then I saw Dad, as well as my second sister (Ethan Walker) and third sister (Emily Walker), all staring at me with very strange looks, as if they couldn’t believe it.

Uh-oh. I suddenly realized that Dad was actually quizzing my second sister. She’s in fifth grade and has learned this poem. Looks like I’ll have to be more careful before speaking in the future, or I’ll accidentally give myself away.

“Little John, have you learned this poem before?” Dad asked, a bit puzzled.

I scratched my head, quickly thought of an excuse, and said with a smile, “I heard second sister recite it.” That explanation was just barely enough to get by.

Dad was pleased, took out a few candies, and said with a smile, “You can remember it just by hearing your second sister recite it? That’s great. Here’s a candy for you.” This was always Dad’s trick—every time he came home, he’d buy a few candies to share with us siblings. Back then, there weren’t many kinds of candy, mostly similar to fruit drops, but without any fruit flavor—just a lump of sugar wrapped in colorful paper, commonly called “paper-wrapped candy.” Rural kids rarely got to eat it even a few times a year.

I took the candy and happily popped it into my mouth—it really was sweet.

Seeing how happy we siblings were, Dad’s eyes were full of affection.

Eating this “paper-wrapped candy” that I hadn’t tasted in at least a dozen years in my previous life, I suddenly had an idea.

Chapter 5: First Meeting with Mr. Smith

“Dad, I want to read some books.” I glanced sideways at Dad, testing the waters as I spoke.

By “books,” I meant comic books, which were also called “little people’s books” in some places. For a time, they were the main extracurricular reading for kids. But in 1976, this request was a bit much. There were very few publications at the time—the big ones were “Selected Works,” the small ones were “Quotations” (commonly called the Little Red Book), and others, like Marx’s “Das Kapital” and Mr. Lu Xun’s works, weren’t often seen.

Dad hadn’t expected me to make such a request and was momentarily stunned.

Not giving him time to think, I immediately added, “I heard that Mr. Smith has books at home, I want to read them!” Dad smiled and said gently, “Mr. Smith does have books, but they’re not comic books. You wouldn’t understand them.” Actually, I didn’t expect to find any books I liked at Mr. Smith’s place—this was just an excuse to get Dad to visit this Zachary Smith who was about to have a change in fortune.

“No, I want to read books, I want to go…” Left with no choice, I started using my seven-year-old’s privilege—acting spoiled! But even as I acted spoiled, I was getting goosebumps all over. Not wanting to miss this opportunity, I had no choice but to be a little shameless.

To make my act more convincing, I even grabbed Dad’s hand and shook it back and forth.

Yikes!

Looks like I really do have a talent for acting!

Dad had no choice but to surrender: “Alright, alright, we’ll go, we’ll go…” Since we’d decided to visit Mr. Smith, Dad even spent over a yuan, asking Uncle to go to the co-op to buy two bags of candy—four tangerine cakes and a jin of biscuits. He also asked Grandma to bring out her treasured stash—preserved rice flour pork, packed up a portion, and added a jin of flour, making it a four-item gift for the visit.

In the countryside at that time, these were very valuable gifts. My second sister rolled her eyes at me. You have to know, even we rarely got to eat such good things, and now, just because of my random “I want to read books,” it was all going to someone else.

Fortunately, Dad was famous for being a filial son and was very respectful to Grandpa and Grandma. Grandpa was actually very supportive.

“Mr. Smith is a very learned man, and Jincai is also a scholar. You should go and visit.” Jincai is Dad’s name. Dad graduated from a normal school, which definitely counted as being an intellectual at the time. Grandpa hadn’t read much himself, but he had great respect for scholars.