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In the summer of 2003, in a newly built residential community in the HK district of Shanghai.

At six o'clock in the morning, Su Ning carried two bags of pan-fried buns and turned into the Shikumen alley not far away. His white T-shirt was slightly damp with sweat and clung to the boy's thin back.

"Grandma Zhang, the pan-fried buns are extra crispy today!" he shouted in fluent Shanghainese towards the second-floor window, casually tying a bag of buns to the hanging hook.

The window creaked open, and Granny Zhang, with her full head of silver hair, leaned out: "Ah Ning, are you buying breakfast for Granny again? The money is in the milk box."

"No money needed!" Su Ning waved his hand with a smile. "The shirt you mended for me last time was even better than what you got at the tailor shop."

At the corner, we ran into Uncle Zhou, who was walking his dog. The Pekingese dog excitedly rushed over as soon as it saw Suning.

"That little rascal sees you more affectionately than he sees me," Uncle Zhou said with a laugh. "Ah Ning, my granddaughter failed her English test again. Could you tutor her in English?"

“I’ll take her to tutoring tomorrow afternoon.” Su Ning squatted down and rubbed the dog’s head. “Oh, right! Uncle, I’ve translated that document from the consulate and put it in your mailbox.”

"Thank you."

"Don't mention it."

As I walked downstairs, several little girls playing jump rope called out in unison, "Good morning, brother!"

"Good morning!" Su Ning magically pulled a few White Rabbit candies from his pocket. "Let me test you. Can you say 'apple' in English?"

"Apple!" the little girl with pigtails answered quickly.

"Smart!" Su Ning patted her head, and the little girls burst into laughter.

This is Su Ning, seventeen years old, the "other people's child" loved by everyone in the alley.

Who still remembers the little boy who was pulled out of the reservoir by Su Daqiang twelve years ago, speaking fluent Tangshan dialect?

The bronze plaque of "Ningyuan Translation Agency" gleamed in the sunlight.

This small 20-square-meter office is located on the second floor of an old villa on Sichuan North Road. The monthly rent is 5,800 yuan, but that's nothing for Suning now.

"Mr. Su, the contract with the Japanese trading company has been proofread." Lin Xiaowen, a college student working part-time, handed over the document. "However, there's a problem with clause seven..."

Suning glanced at it: "Hmm, they used 'Force Majeure' here for 'force majeure,' but the Japanese side insists on using 'natural disaster.' Explain the difference in legal effect to the client."

"clear."

"If the other party refuses, it's better not to do the business than to leave any legal liability behind."

"Yes, Mr. Su."

"Jingle Bell……"

The phone suddenly rang, and the voice on the other end had a heavy British accent: "Mr. Su, the consulate urgently needs a translator fluent in Shanghainese to accompany a finance official on a visit to the City God Temple..."

"Understood! I'll arrange it as soon as possible."

After hanging up the phone, Suning twirled his pen, calculating.

The fee for such urgent orders can be doubled, but you need to find someone familiar with the terminology of local cuisine.

"Xiaowen, I'm going to my dad's shop this afternoon." Su Ning grabbed her coat. "Oh, right! Update our price list. The Arabic translation fee is going up by 30%, there's a lot of demand for it recently because of the World Expo."

"Yes, Mr. Su."

"Call me if there's anything urgent."

"it is good."

Pushing open the glass door, a wave of heat hits you.

In the distance, the Oriental Pearl Tower gleamed in the sunlight, and Su Ning squinted.

Who would have thought that the little boy who used to eat cold steamed buns in the attic would now have his own business in Shanghai, where land is incredibly expensive?
When Su Ning returned home in the evening, she found that Su Daqiang had not yet returned from the restaurant.

Over the years, the scars on my adoptive father's arm seem to have faded a bit, his temper is no longer so gloomy, and he has even learned to smile, all of which came about after he met Aunt Chen from Jiangxi.

Su Ning took out the photo that Su Daqiang had shown her again, but she still felt that the boy in the photo was not herself.

"What are you looking at?" Su Daqiang's voice came from behind.

Su Ning hurriedly put away the photo in her hand: "Dad, when did you get back?"

"Just came in." Su Daqiang took off his coat, which reeked of cooking oil, and glanced at the photo suspiciously. "The restaurant's revenue exceeded five thousand today. Aunt Chen suggested introducing a lunch set menu..."

Su Ning answered absentmindedly, her gaze involuntarily drifting towards the mirror.

The boy in the mirror had sword-like eyebrows and bright eyes, exactly like the "Su Ning" in his dream, which made Su Ning doubt his daily dreams.

But why am I standing in a pool of blood in my memory? Who is the boy called "Eight Liang"? And who is the little girl who is being hung up?
No one could have imagined that a transmigrator would lose their memory, not only losing the memories of the host of this instance world, but also their own.

The "Tangshan Renjia" restaurant is filled with the unique aroma of noodles from northern China.

Even though it was a weekday evening, all eight tables were full of people.

Chen Meihua was quickly clearing away the dishes when she saw the father and son enter the room, and her eyes lit up.

"Old Su, Aning, come and try our freshly made donkey rolls!" She brought out a plate of golden pastries, her Jiangxi accent carrying a hint of northern crispness.

Su Daqiang's ears turned red, a rare occurrence. When he took the plate, his fingers accidentally touched the back of Chen Meihua's hand, and the two separated as if they had been electrocuted.

Su Ning suppressed a laugh, but was glared at by her adoptive father.

"Aunt Chen," Su Ning said deliberately, "did my dad secretly learn your Jiangxi clay pot soup recipe again yesterday?"

"What nonsense are you talking about!" Su Daqiang made a move to hit her, but Chen Meihua stopped him with a smile.

The aroma of stewed meat wafted from the kitchen, and several tables of regular customers raised their glasses in a toast.

This small shop, less than 50 square meters, has become a spiritual home for people from other places.

While Suning was helping to clear the dishes, she overheard a conversation between several guests from northern China at table number 3.

“I heard Zhao Sanjin is still looking for his son,” a bearded man said in a low voice, “and the reward has been raised to five million.”

“If you ask me, he’s long gone,” his companion said, taking a sip of baijiu. “If that kid were alive, he’d be seventeen by now…”

The name "Zhao Sanjin" acted like a key, unlocking a box of memories.

While busy at work, Su Daqiang's hand slipped, and the plate full of stir-fried liver tips crashed to the ground with a "crash," scattering the incredibly tempting delicacy all over the floor.

When everyone looked over in surprise, Su Daqiang was already tidying up with his head down.

Hearing the commotion, Su Ning came over and asked, "Dad, are you alright?"

"It's nothing, my hand slipped." Su Daqiang forced a smile, and when he squatted down to pick up the shards, he found that his fingers were trembling uncontrollably.

After closing time, the three of them sat at the back door of the restaurant to cool off.

Chen Meihua cut a watermelon; it had red flesh, black seeds, and was dripping with juice.

"Aunt Chen," Su Ning suddenly asked, "are you settling in well in Shanghai?"

Chen Meihua wiped her hands. "It's great! Many of us from Jiangxi live in Shanghai."

Su Daqiang was engrossed in eating his melon when he suddenly interjected, "Ah Ning, your Aunt Chen has agreed to move in with us."

Watermelon juice dripped down Suning's chin onto his white T-shirt.

His eyes widened: "Huh? You guys...?"

"What nonsense are you thinking!" Chen Meihua slammed her hand on the table, her face flushed. "It's just that sharing an apartment saves on rent! Your dad said you have an empty bedroom in your three-bedroom apartment..."

"I understand! I understand." Su Ning raised her hands in surrender, but winked at Su Daqiang, "Dad, you've finally figured it out?"

"..." Su Daqiang felt a little awkward being teased by his son.

A night breeze swept through the alley, carrying the soft strains of Shanghai opera from someone's radio.

Su Daqiang lit a cigarette, and the firelight made the scar on his face appear much softer.

“Ah Ning,” he suddenly said, “it’s your birthday next month, what do you want?”

Suning was stunned.

For eighteen years, Su Daqiang never mentioned his birthday, the fabricated November 18th.

“I want to…” Su Ning looked up at the starry sky, “to know what my mother looks like.”

Silence spread like a tide.

Finally, Chen Meihua got up and started tidying up the melon rinds: "It's getting late, we still need to get more stock tomorrow."

On their way home, the father and son walked one after the other.

The streetlights cast long shadows of them, sometimes overlapping, sometimes separating.

When they reached the entrance of the alley, Su Daqiang suddenly stopped.

“Your mother…” his voice was hoarse, “looks like Aunt Chen.”

This was the first time Su Daqiang had brought up the fictional deceased wife on his own initiative.

Just as Su Ning was about to ask further, her adoptive father had already strode away, his figure disappearing into the darkness of the alleyway.

That night, Suning had that dream again.

In the blood-soaked factory, a boy who looks remarkably like himself holds a steel bar.

This time, he saw clearly that the man lying in the pool of blood was none other than Su Daqiang in his youth.

When I awoke, the east was already turning white outside the window.

Suning has been constantly pondering: Who is he really? Is he the real Suning? And who is that "Eight Liang" from his memories?

The sound of Su Daqiang's morning exercise footsteps could be heard downstairs, as steady and powerful as ever.

But to Suning at this moment, it sounded like a countdown.

……

Classroom of Class 6, Grade 12, Hongkou Senior High School, March 2004.

Zhang Hao slammed the test paper onto Su Ning's desk with a long face. "Su Ning, how do I answer this multiple-choice question?"

Su Ning glanced at the question with his pen and immediately knew the answer: "Choose C. The context implies that this was an accident, and only the fault is responsible."

"Suning, if I fail the mock exam next week, my dad is going to take off my game console."

"You can do whatever you want once you get to college! Just bear with it for a few days."

"Come on," Zhang Hao leaned closer and lowered his voice, "My self-control has always been the worst."

The girl with a ponytail in the front row suddenly turned around and glared at him, and Zhang Hao immediately shrank back.

Lin Xiaoyu was a well-known aloof academic genius in their senior year of high school. He was only slightly kind to Su Ning, since he was the only one in the whole school who could argue with her in five languages.

"Su Ning," homeroom teacher Lao Li waved at the door, calling Su Ning over, "Have you prepared your application materials for the independent enrollment program?"

"I've secured a spot for you in the Shanghai International Studies University entrance exam through the guaranteed admission program, but the school leaders want you to take the national college entrance exam and aim for the top score..."

“Teacher Li, I’m giving up the guaranteed admission.” Su Ning smiled. “I want to rely on my own abilities to get into the university, and save the school a spot.”

The homeroom teacher, Mr. Li, hesitated, sensing that this student was too special.

Despite running a translation company, she never misses a class; despite speaking eight languages, she listens attentively to the most basic grammar explanations.

Even more amazingly, he managed to make the reclusive Lin Xiaoyu and the underachiever Zhang Hao friends.

Back in the classroom, Lin Xiaoyu was waiting next to his seat: "Su Ning, the original French version of 'The Little Prince' has arrived."

She handed me a package, her voice still indifferent, but her eyes slightly upturned, "Thank you for bringing me the imported language repeater."

"Don't mention it!" Su Ning winked. "Next month, when the Paris Business School comes for an exchange, will you be the temporary translator?"

Lin Xiaoyu smiled, a rare occurrence for her: "Okay!"

Zhang Hao, who was at the bottom of the class, watched in disbelief: "Holy crap! Su Ning, you're amazing! You can even win over the class monitor's smile?"

"What a fuss."

……

Early June in Shanghai is hot and humid.

Outside the examination hall, Su Daqiang, unusually, took half a day off to accompany Chen Meihua to the exam.

This once fierce man was wearing an ill-fitting white shirt today, with the top button fastened all the way up.

"Dad, isn't it too tight?" Su Ning asked with a smile as she loosened his collar.

"Focus on the exam." Su Daqiang said sternly, but shoved a bottle of chilled soda into his hand. "Don't...don't be nervous."

Chen Meihua handed over a thermos: "Auntie made sweet fermented rice balls for good luck." "Thank you."

After the first Chinese exam ended, Su Ning walked out of the examination hall with the crowd.

In the distance, Zhang Hao was gesturing excitedly as he checked the answers: "Su Ning! Was the answer to that classical Chinese question B? I guessed!"

“It’s C.” Lin Xiaoyu appeared behind them at some point. “Su Shi was demoted to Huangzhou in 1080, not 1082.”

Su Ning watched the two bicker with a smile, sunlight filtering through the sycamore leaves and casting dappled shadows on his face.

At this moment, he was not the owner of Ningyuan Translation Agency, nor the shrewd "A-Ning" in the alley, but just an ordinary college entrance examination candidate.

For the last subject, English, Suning handed in his paper half an hour early.

The proctor curiously flipped through his answer sheet and found that the essay section contained three different advanced sentence structures, and the handwriting was so neat it looked like printed material.

In the sweltering heat of August, the day the admission notices were delivered to the alleyway caused a sensation throughout the entire lane.

"Shanghai International Studies University! That's prestigious!" Uncle Zhou held up the admission notice and showed it to every household. "Our alley has produced a top scholar!"

At this moment, Zhang Hao and Lin Xiaoyu were squeezed into Su Ning's living room. The three of them had the same search results on their computer screens: Su Ning, French Department of Shanghai International Studies University; Lin Xiaoyu, School of International Relations of Peking University; Zhang Hao, Shanghai University of Sport.

"Holy crap, I actually got in?" Zhang Hao pinched his thigh. "My dad said he's going to set off firecrackers to celebrate!"

"..." At this moment, Lin Xiaoyu lowered her head in disappointment.

Su Ning knew that he was reminded of his parents by the sight of the scenery, because his parents were in the foreign trade business, so Lin Xiaoyu rarely saw them.

At this moment, Chen Meihua brought out a table of Jiangxi dishes, so spicy that Zhang Hao had to drink cold water.

Su Daqiang silently opened a bottle of Moutai; this was the first time Su Ning had ever seen him drink.

"Dad, drink less." Su Ning snatched the bottle from him but poured himself a glass too. "I'll toast you."

"Great! My son has made something of himself."

Suning's eyes welled up with tears.

"Auntie," Su Ning changed the subject, "how are your plans for the restaurant's transformation coming along?"

"It's great! It just requires some renovations."

"Yes, Jiangxi cuisine is indeed more popular in Shanghai."

After the meal, Su Ning personally escorted Lin Xiaoyu home, while Zhang Hao naturally did not have such an honor.

When they arrived at Lin Xiaoyu's building, Lin Xiaoyu suddenly looked up at Su Ning shyly and asked, "Su Ning, would you like to come to my house for a while?"

"Won't that be inconvenient?"

"It's okay! My parents are on a business trip to the United States again, so I'm all alone at home now."

"Okay! I'm a little thirsty too! Aunt Chen's Jiangxi cuisine is quite strong in flavor."

"Ah."

Then Su Ning followed Lin Xiaoyu to her home, which was also the first time she had visited her boudoir.

Smelling the faint fragrance in the boudoir, Su Ning couldn't help but take a deep breath.

"Suning, have some water."

"Thank you."

"Suning, can I ask you a question?"

"what?"

"So many girls at school write you love letters, why don't you accept them all?"

"Too young! It's illegal."

"You're eighteen now, don't you want to?"

"This……"

“Su Ning, I’m going to study in Beijing soon, and I want to give my body to you.”

"No regrets?"

"Yes, I definitely won't regret it."

"But I have a request."

"You said."

"Before you get married, you belong to me and cannot have anything with other men."

"Okay! I promise you."

"..."

Then Su Ning pulled Lin Xiaoyu into his arms and started kissing her...

……

Before the start of the school year in September, the signboard of "Tangshan Renjia" was changed to "Ganweiju", but the menu still retained several classic Tangshan dishes.

"Not enough chili peppers!" On the opening day, Chen Meihua commanded confidently in the kitchen, "Old Su, take out the stir-fried water chestnut with cured pork!"

"Okay! Got it."

Suning helped serve the customers and was surprised to find that 80% of them spoke with a Jiangxi accent.

A middle-aged man wearing a gold chain slammed his fist on the table and shouted, "Boss lady! This chili is amazing! It's even more flavorful than the ones at Wanshou Palace in Nanchang!"

The business is booming beyond expectations.

When counting the money at closing time that evening, Chen Meihua excitedly announced, "Today's turnover has exceeded 20,000!"

Su Daqiang rarely smiled, but he froze when he saw the group of people at the door.

Five well-dressed middle-aged men were studying the menu, speaking with heavy Tangshan accents.

"Didn't you say you'd serve Tangshan cuisine?" the leader frowned. "How did it turn into a Jiangxi restaurant?"

Chen Meihua quickly went up to him: "The boss hasn't changed! Our boss still makes the stir-fried liver tips and braised pork kidneys the same way!"

"Oh?"

"Since we're already here, let's eat here!" The men sat down with some skepticism.

In the kitchen, Su Daqiang's hands were shaking unusually, and he almost knocked over the oil pan.

"Dad?" Thinking that Su Daqiang was tired, Su Ning took the spatula. "Let me do it! You can teach me."

"Alright! I was really tired today."

When the stir-fried liver tips and the stir-fried cured pork with water chestnuts were served at the same time, the guests from Tangshan were surprised to find that the taste was actually very authentic.

After a few rounds of drinks, one of them suddenly stared at Su Ning, who was serving the dishes, for a long time.

“Young man,” he squinted his drunken eyes, “you look remarkably like someone.”

“…” Su Ning did not react abnormally.

The man, still staring at his face, asked, "Where are you from?"

At that moment, the kitchen curtain was suddenly thrown open, and Su Daqiang walked out carrying a wok: "How was the meal, everyone?"

He subtly shielded Su Ning behind him.

"Old Su? Is that really you?" Another guest suddenly stood up. "I'm Wang Dehai! From the Caofeidian Police Station back then!"

Su Daqiang's face turned deathly pale instantly.

Su Ning noticed that the veins on his adoptive father's hand, which was gripping the spatula, were bulging, just like when he trained him in combat many years ago.

"You've mistaken me for someone else," Su Daqiang said coldly, turning around and pushing Su Ning back into the kitchen.

Behind him came Wang Dehai's muttering: "Strange, that child really looks like the missing child from Zhao Sanjin's family..."

Footsteps came from the stairs, and Su Daqiang came up carrying two bowls of mung bean soup. He unusually took the initiative to speak: "That person today was a former colleague of mine."

“Dad,” Su Ning looked him straight in the eye, “who am I?”

Su Daqiang's hands were shaking even more violently than those in the kitchen; he didn't even notice that he had spilled mung bean soup on his pants.

After a long silence, he suddenly asked, "How much do you remember?"

“A fragment,” Su Ning answered cautiously, “a factory… lots of blood… someone called me Eight Ounces…”

“Zhao Balang,” Su Daqiang said with a wry smile, “Zhao Sanjin’s son.”

The attic was so quiet that you could hear the distant sound of ship horns on the Huangpu River.

This secret, which they had tacitly kept hidden for twelve years, was finally revealed at this moment.

"I recognized you the moment I pulled you out of the reservoir that night," Su Daqiang said hoarsely.

"Why did you lie to me?"

“Your father and I are enemies! He caused me to be sent to guard the reservoir, and my wife and children immigrated to Australia, so…”

"So there really is a child named Su Ning in this world?" Su Ning was surprised that she wasn't particularly shocked.

"Yes! He's in Australia! But we haven't been in touch for a long time."

"Do you miss him?"

"..." Su Daqiang responded with silence.

"Can you promise me one thing?"

"what?"

"Still treat me like your son, don't let anyone know my true identity."

"why?"

"Although I do have amnesia, I still retain memories of that night. I suspect I might have committed murder, you know what I mean?"

"That's right! You did kill three people! But those three were robbers who kidnapped you and your sister."

"Dad, remember! I will always be Su Ning."

"I understand! I know what you're worried about."

"Thank you."

"Su Ning, I've lied to you for so many years, and you don't hate me at all?"

"Dad, all I remember is that you saved me and then raised me for nine years."

"..." At this moment, Su Daqiang couldn't help but burst into tears. The child in front of him was just too sensible.

He glanced at the photos of Su Ning on the wall from childhood to adulthood, and said, "That's right! You are indeed my son."

The sound of Chen Meihua clearing away dishes came from downstairs; the everyday life here felt so real.

Su Ning suddenly asked, "Will Wang Dehai tell Zhao Sanjin?"

"Probably! After all, five million is really tempting."

"It's alright! As long as my son and I don't admit it, it won't do any good even if the Zhao family comes looking for us."

Su Daqiang looked at Su Ning with a surprised expression and asked, "Don't you want to go back to the Zhao family? Zhao Sanjin is now the richest man in the North."

Su Ning smiled wryly and said dismissively, "Does it matter? I've lost all my memories; they're strangers to me."

"..."

That night, Su Ning dreamed that she was standing in that blood-red abandoned factory...

Blood, corpses, a little girl's cries...

When I woke up, my phone showed it was 3 a.m.

Outside the window, a dark figure was sitting on the stone steps in the alley; it was none other than Su Daqiang, a rough-looking man who hadn't slept all night.

It's clear that the sudden accident caught him off guard; after all, nine years of partnership with Suning had left him disoriented.

Or rather, Su Daqiang doesn't want to lose his current happiness, and he doesn't want Zhao Sanjin to take away his son.

...(End of chapter)