Chapter 1: Emergency Gong

"Why am I here?"

Night had fallen over the old river embankment made of rammed earth. David Sullivan flicked on the metal flashlight, and the yellow beam fell down, revealing the muddy river water just over a meter below the embankment, rolling by with clusters of water hyacinths.

This was a flood that could breach the embankment at any moment!

Turning back, not far behind the embankment, his hometown Sullivan Village was hidden in darkness.

This isn’t 2019!

David Sullivan remembered very clearly: in 2019, Typhoon Lekima struck, the hometown Qingzhao River flooded, he went back to help with flood control, fought by the river for three days straight, and when leaving, drove under a highway bridge. Because he was too exhausted, he plunged into the water pooled under the bridge, and then remembered nothing...

Ninety-nine percent sure he had a car accident under the highway bridge.

Yet he woke up outside the Qingzhao River embankment, and he was young again.

When he climbed up from the outside of the embankment, David Sullivan immediately felt the change—his big belly was gone, and his body was full of energy.

Now, borrowing the light of the metal flashlight, he glanced down at himself—his clothes were completely different.

On his feet were mud-stained cloth shoes with layered soles, both shoes had little "windows" at the toes, and his big toe hiding behind them felt especially cool—ventilated, breathable, and water-permeable!

On his legs were coarse cloth shorts, high-end and classy, purely handmade!

Above that was a light blue short-sleeved T-shirt, big and baggy, the style old-fashioned, with its own "ugly" aura. Four characters were printed on the chest: Qingzhao No.1 High School!

David Sullivan remembered—the last time he wore the school uniform was the summer after the college entrance exam.

He recalled that after the exam, the flood raged, the Qingzhao River embankment broke, and Sullivan Village was destroyed!

David Sullivan had been bombarded by the internet age, so he could roughly guess what was happening now.

Back to the past? Back to the summer after the college entrance exam? Young again? The greasy, overweight middle-aged man had become a strong young guy?

His mind was still dazed. He tapped his forehead with the metal flashlight—ouch!

David Sullivan looked into the distance. Under the night, dots of light flickered, and faint human figures moved about. There were people on night watch at intervals along the embankment.

Over two hundred meters to the southeast, the lights were brightest. A bridge connected the central street of Sullivan Village to the opposite Baker Village, and this was also the closest point of Sullivan Village to the river.

Had the sluice gate at the bridgehead been closed?

This surging, muddy river flowed right past the north of Sullivan Village. If the embankment broke, the consequences would be unimaginable.

"Come on, come on, let’s meet in '98."

The night wind carried a song, mixed with static: "Come on, come on, let’s meet in 1998..."

Behind the moving yellow flashlight beam, someone was walking along the embankment.

Before the person arrived, a stench hit David Sullivan's nose.

David Sullivan was a farm boy and could recognize the smell of chicken manure.

Compared to pigs, cows, sheep, or horses, chicken manure was even more pungent and acrid.

"Dongzi!" came a voice with a rural accent, "I told you to patrol the river—where did you run off to!"

As the person got closer, David Sullivan could see who was behind the flashlight’s glow.

The man looked about forty, his face rough like a typical farmer. He held a flashlight in his right hand, a small radio hanging from his left wrist, and a gong in his fingers, with a broken cloth shoe tied to the gong by a string.

David Sullivan remembered who it was: "You’re... Uncle Carter..."

Uncle Carter's surname was Lü, a chicken farmer in the village. He was a bit stingy, called "Iron Rooster" since the 1980s. Over time, those younger than him started calling him Brother Carter, and the next generation called him Uncle Carter.

After so many years, many people didn’t even know his real name.

Uncle Carter stopped and looked at David Sullivan: "You melon-head, you don’t even recognize your Uncle Carter?"

David Sullivan suddenly didn’t know how to respond.

In his memory, the day after the college entrance exam, the Qingzhao River embankment broke in the early hours of the night, and the raging flood rushed toward Sullivan Village. The chicken farm north of the village was hit first, and Uncle Carter and his wife, unwilling to leave their chickens, perished together.

And also!

His childhood friend Emily Thompson was on night watch on that section of the embankment, and he was lost too.

At the time, he was the top student in Sullivan Village, but never got to see his 211 university admission letter.

Except for the northernmost section where it joins the Yellow River, the rest of the Qingzhao River runs entirely within Qingzhao County, Quannan City. Quannan is famous for its springs, and Qingzhao County is no exception. Numerous springs in the southern mountains converge to form the source of the Qingzhao River, which flows northward.

The river isn’t large. In the dry winter season, it can dry up completely. Even in the normal rainy season, it’s only a dozen meters wide and over two meters deep, with the riverbed lower than the surrounding flat land.

The section north of Sullivan Village is an S-shaped bend several hundred meters long. The series of sharp turns increases the water’s impact, putting sudden pressure on the embankment.

It was the last sharp bend’s embankment that collapsed.

The embankment at Sullivan Village stands nearly three meters above the ground. In the wide parts, a light truck can drive on it; in the narrow parts, even a farm tricycle can pass. It was built with rammed earth in the late 1950s, but David Sullivan had never seen it maintained or repaired since he was a child.

This was because there had never been a major flood in Qingzhao County since the founding of the country. No one took it seriously, and there was a lack of experience in dealing with floods.

Before this flood, no one ever associated the Qingzhao River with flood control.