"…There’s a monster in your family, this is the first time I’ve ever heard of someone going to school like this. But I have to say, he’s thought it through pretty well—he’s even found himself a backer, and even roped in your brother-in-law. Who does he take after, you or your wife?" Uncle Bennett listened to Brian Carter's words, his eyes widening again. This time it wasn’t out of anger, but surprise. He couldn’t find any flaw in Brian Carter’s plan, and every step seemed feasible, leaving him speechless.

"Alright, we’ll do as you say. Here’s 5 cents—buy yourself a popsicle if you get thirsty at noon. Hang this house key somewhere safe. Your mom’s gone to work. Your books, pens, and notebooks are on the table. Remember to lock the door when you go out to play. Old Bennett, I’m running late for work. If anything comes up, we’ll talk about it tonight." Brian Carter’s father glanced at his watch, hurriedly got on his bicycle, and left—his workplace was far away.

"Dad, take Little Brian to the kindergarten with you, or else the teacher will scold him." Grace Bennett might often get bullied by Brian Carter, but she still looked out for him and didn’t want him to get in trouble with the teacher. Actually, the kindergarten teachers rarely scolded Brian Carter, afraid that if they pushed him too far, he’d start swinging chairs at them.

"Hey, your brother Little Brian is going to school! We’ll find out tonight whether he gets beaten or praised. You, kid, give your dad a break and don’t run around everywhere. Otherwise, when we get home tonight, your dad and I will both give you a beating. Your dad likes to reason with you, but I won’t spoil you." Uncle Bennett still couldn’t figure out what Brian Carter was up to, but he couldn’t fully believe that Brian Carter really wanted to study on his own. A troublemaker who was just running wild in the alleys yesterday suddenly claiming he wants to become self-taught? No adult would buy that.

"Dad, I want to go to school too! Buy me a little backpack!" Grace Bennett was also drawn in by the mention of school. Back then, few kids in kindergarten didn’t want to go to school—not because they loved learning, but because every day they watched their older siblings line up, carrying backpacks, singing songs as they walked through the alleys, and even got to wear red scarves. It made them envious.

As for what they’d actually learn, they wouldn’t realize how tough it was until they really started school. Then, most kids who started school didn’t want to go anymore. In fact, that’s how many things in life are: what you once thought was beautiful and desirable, once you’re actually in it, it immediately becomes ugly and annoying—like school and work.

"Alright, alright, I’ll buy you one next year. You’re still too young to go to school now." Uncle Bennett also got on his bike and left, still trying to placate his daughter as he walked.

"Then how come Little Brian can go to school? I want to go too…" Kids are the most prone to comparisons—what other kids wear, eat, play with, they’re always curious and want the same. As for why others can do it, they don’t ask; it’s up to the parents to explain and help them understand.

"Sigh… I finally have some power in my hands!" Brian Carter watched as Uncle Bennett rode off with Grace Bennett, turning out of the alley. Then he looped the key string around his neck, weighed the house key in his hand, and finally felt like he wasn’t just a little kid anymore.

The fact that his father could entrust him with the house key proved he’d given him the greatest trust. But whether that trust could last and grow, and just how much he could be trusted, would depend on his own efforts and behavior from now on. Since he’d come to this world, he had to live by its rules. As the old saying goes: if you’re a dragon, coil up; if you’re a tiger, lie low.

Brian Carter went back to his own home first. School hadn’t started yet, so he couldn’t sneak in. He’d have to wait until after morning exercises, when the students and teachers were all in class, before he could make his move.

Brian Carter’s home was on the first floor, a two-bedroom unit with a small kitchen and a small bathroom. But the bathroom wasn’t just for his family—it was shared with another household. Since the building was originally constructed by army engineers, who knows what the design was supposed to be. Each entrance had four units per floor: the first and second floors had four two-bedroom units, and the third floor had two three-bedroom units. All the bathrooms were in the hallway, one on the left and one on the right, shared by every two households.

Actually, in this era, being able to live in an apartment with a kitchen and bathroom—without having to queue up outside in the freezing winter to use a public toilet—was already considered high-end. There weren’t many apartment buildings in all of Beijing at the time; most were in the family compounds of various ministries, all in that Soviet style.

"Nothing’s changed at all! Am I living in my own memories?" Opening his front door, Brian Carter stood at the threshold, not daring to go in. He’d imagined countless times what his home should look like, whether it would be the same as in his memory. After all, it had been decades—could a three- or four-year-old really remember so clearly?

Reality gave Brian Carter a definite answer: his memory was excellent, at least his childhood memory was. The furnishings, layout, details, even the lighting inside the house were almost exactly as he remembered.