Old Domain Bizarre

Chapter 1 Zhang Wenda

"Mom, what is Grandpa doing?" Zhang Wenda, wearing children's shoes, led his mother's slightly cold fingers as they walked through an unusually empty garden square.

As he looked, he saw a group of elderly people in the park wearing aluminum pots with their eyes covered by the rims, hanging upright in mid-air, holding hands and forming an oval.

Bathed in the setting sun, this scene resembled a waxy yellow photograph, deeply etched into Zhang Wenda's mind.

"They're practicing qigong, don't stare, get out of here!"

Zhang Wenda was pulled by the large hand and stumbled violently. Instantly, his feet lost their footing, and he felt a strong sense of weightlessness as he plummeted into the endless darkness.

"Ha!!" He sat up abruptly in bed, sweating profusely. The moment he opened his eyes, he finally escaped that feeling of despair.

When he looked at the zippered wardrobe in front of him, he realized that he had just been dreaming.

"Damn, this dream is really strange," Zhang Wenda muttered to himself.

He remembered that the old man had practiced information pot qigong for a period of time, but as far as he knew, his grandfather had only practiced qigong to take the opportunity to have extensive contact with middle-aged and elderly women.

He himself never believed in these things, and he has never been suspended in the air.

However, after he strained his back while practicing qigong, he stopped going and stayed at home all day. He decided to dedicate his remaining energy to the four modernizations of the motherland and worked tirelessly to invent a perpetual motion machine.

"Ha~" He opened his mouth and yawned, stretching his arms out to give a yawn.

"Old man, what does this dream mean? Just tell me what you want. You've been a fitter your whole life, don't try to be like those artists with their metaphors. I'm already exhausted from work every day, I don't have the energy to guess riddles."

As he spoke, he scratched his back and got out of bed. He skillfully picked up the clothes at the foot of the bed and put them on. However, after putting on the obviously oversized sneakers, he suddenly paused. Sneakers? He hadn't worn sneakers yesterday.

Just as he snapped out of his grandfather's dream, his gaze instinctively swept around, and he finally realized something was wrong.

What appeared before him was a small, old, and somewhat cluttered room of about 30-40 square meters.

This is a single room; the red bricks exposed behind the peeling paint testify to its age.

His gaze shifted from the small mountain of black honeycomb briquettes stacked behind the door to the sky-blue, fabric-laced wardrobe next to it adorned with white doves.

The wardrobe looked somewhat tilted and bulky because it was crammed with too many things.

Then, from the old wooden table where money and old photos were weighed down with glass, they moved to the black-and-white television next to it with two retractable power cords.

Looking at everything that was both familiar and unfamiliar before him, his eyes gradually changed from confusion and bewilderment to shock.

"This...this is...this is my hometown? This is the old tenement building where I lived when I was a child?! Am I still dreaming?"

With a "smack," he raised his hand and slapped himself. The pain instantly brought him to his senses, but nothing had changed around him.

"I...I...I've traveled back in time? I've traveled back to my childhood?"

He was breathing rapidly, his heart was pounding, and he quickly walked to the box next to him, picking up the pink mirror with a woman's flower-shaped design on the back.

Looking at his youthful face in the mirror, he still felt a strong sense of unreality. However, when he touched his incredibly soft and thick hair, he was so moved he almost cried.

Back then, I thought it was just ordinary. I had never grown up and had no idea how thick my hair used to be.

"For the sake of my hair, I absolutely won't stay up all night this time! Damn it, I'd be a dog if I slept after 9 pm!"

He touched his smooth skin, trembling, overwhelmed with excitement. "I'm back? I'm really back?" Zhang Wenda couldn't even remember how he got back; he only remembered one thing: he was rich!
Most importantly, he has memories of the past; he can buy stocks, Bitcoin, and houses.

With his past memories, he can make money and achieve financial freedom even if he buys with his eyes closed!

"I'll never have to be a corporate slave again! When I'm rich, I want to be like my uncle! I can do whatever I want! I want to travel the world! I want to have a harem!!"

As Zhang Wenda paced back and forth in the room, even starting to plan how he would spend his money, he suddenly stopped and fixed his gaze on the black and white television in front of him.

He reached behind the television and pulled out a Wu Song card from the Water Margin. It was a Water Margin card depicting Wu Song carrying a long spear with a wine gourd, walking through the snow like a raccoon.

Back then, my deskmate tricked me into thinking that the Wu Song card was the rarest and the hardest to collect among the 108 heroes. He treasured it like it was the most precious thing, only to find out later that it was everywhere.

Looking at the treasure he had hidden away years ago, touching its familiar texture, and smelling the familiar ink scent on the card, Zhang Wenda's various excited thoughts gradually dissipated.

He looked at the still-faded certificate of merit pasted on the wall, then at the pencil case and notebooks that hadn't yet been put into his schoolbag. He couldn't help but smile from the bottom of his heart. It was so good to be back.

At this moment, all those money-making ideas disappeared from his mind. All he needed to do was make the right choices at the right time. What he needed to do now was cherish this precious youth.

As if recalling something, Zhang Wenda's eyes showed a hint of emotion and struggle, but when he looked at the familiar surroundings, he slowly exhaled and stood up.

He reached out and touched everything in the small room, his fingers tracing every surface, touching every trace of the past. This feeling almost brought tears to his eyes.

Flowers may bloom again, but youth never returns. If everything starts anew, then he can make up for all the regrets of the past and avoid all the wrong choices.

As he looked around at everything with emotion, he felt that something was not quite right. Every inch of this place was where he lived, and he should know it very well.

He knew when the world map on the wall was put up, when some of the things in the house were acquired, and where some of his treasures were hidden.

This is his home, he should be very familiar with it, but right now this home feels strange to him, though he can't quite put his finger on what's wrong. "Strange."

After carefully examining the surroundings, his gaze suddenly settled on the wall clock. It was indeed his alarm clock, but when he went closer to observe it, he realized where that inexplicable sense of unease came from.

It's clearly a wall clock, but the numbers on it aren't 1-12 o'clock; instead, they're doubled, ranging from 1-24 o'clock.

"What the heck?" Zhang Wenda thought he was seeing things, but after rubbing his eyes, he realized that it really was true.

"It's a counterfeit clock that my uncle left over from reselling. Wait a minute, I don't remember ever using this kind of clock." The strange clock made Zhang Wenda feel uneasy.

"Speaking of which, what year is it this year?" Zhang Wenda asked as he walked to the television, reached out and turned on the power switch. He needed to confirm the time frame first.

The next second, accompanied by a whooshing sound, constantly flashing snowflakes appeared in front of Zhang Wenda, accompanied by a very indistinct female voice amidst the piercing whooshing sound.

"This piece of junk probably won't even be worth a freebie anymore," Zhang Wenda muttered as he started changing channels.

But after trying several channels, all he got was static. He reached out and slapped the top of the TV with his familiar hand.

There are techniques to filming television sets, and fortunately, he hasn't forgotten them after all these years.

As he patted the screen left and right, some images appeared on the television, seemingly showing a woman watching the news broadcast, but these were quickly covered by static. This scene infuriated Zhang Wenda.

"Damn it! Can't you give it a little more force!" With that, he slapped the big back of the TV hard, and the whole TV shook forward. Then, something unexpected happened.

The static and noise from the television screen ripped out like viscous lava, and a large patch of it stuck directly to Zhang Wenda's arm.

(End of this chapter)