In the fiery red era of the heavens, refrigerators are refreshed daily.

Chapter 1.1. Morning in a Shikumen House in Shanghai
Yang Guangming was abruptly awakened by a strong, pungent smell of coal smoke.

Consciousness was like being submerged at the bottom of murky water, struggling to float upwards.

My eyelids felt incredibly heavy, and every breath I took was accompanied by a burning sensation in my throat.

He struggled to open his eyes, and his vision was blurry for a while before he could finally focus.

What came into view was a low ceiling that almost pressed down on your face, covered with a layer of yellowed old newspapers, the edges of which were curled and blackened.

The air was filled with an indescribable, complex odor: the sulfurous smell of burning cheap coal briquettes, the slightly sour smell of leftover food, the musty smell of aged wooden furniture, and a faint, sour smell of sweat, like the smell of a body that hasn't been thoroughly cleaned in a long time. All of these mingled together, pressing heavily on the lungs.

This is definitely not his luxury apartment on the top floor in the city center, with floor-to-ceiling windows and a smart ventilation system!

Immediately afterwards, the thin floorboards of the three-story pavilion above suddenly began a drumming performance, shaking dust into the air.

From the courtyard downstairs, a deep, stubborn Shanghai accent drifted out, low but clear: "The coal stove needs to be brought out to light! Be careful, the people upstairs are still sleeping!"

Then came the screeching sound of the tin stove scraping against the cement floor as it was carefully moved.

Yang Guangming suddenly sat up. The movement was so fast that his vision went black for a moment, and his temples throbbed with pain.

Unfamiliar fragments of memory, like a flood bursting its banks, violently surged into his mind.

June 1969, Shanghai, Yang Ming, seventeen years old, just graduated from high school.

The family was an ordinary working-class family living in a Shikumen alleyway. The father, Yang Yongkang, was a level-three fitter. The mother, Zhang Xiuying, was a textile worker.

The eldest brother, Yang Guanghui, is 26 years old, a level-two fitter, and is married with children. His sister-in-law, Li Guihua, works odd jobs on the street.

My eldest sister, Yang Xianglan, is already married. My second brother, Yang Guangyao, and my second sister, Yang Xiangmei, responded to the call last year and went to the wider world.

His new identity is that of the youngest and most beloved child in the family.

These memories are intertwined with those of my past life, so vivid and real as if I had experienced them firsthand, as if I had awakened to a mystery from the womb. However, the experiences from my past life are far more profound and dominate.

Right now, he's facing a huge problem!

Just yesterday evening, in the dimly lit corner of that Shikumen, the original owner of this body made a promise to Shen Meiyu in a daze, and had already informed his family.

Shen Meiyu spoke such gentle words as, "It's an honor to go to the countryside with you and suffer for the revolution," which stirred up the original owner's blood and made her blood boil in just a few words.

The original owner patted his chest and guaranteed: "I'll go to the neighborhood committee to register first thing tomorrow morning!"
He wanted to live happily ever after with Shen Meiyu, heading to that unknown rural area together.

"Idiot! You've been used as a pawn by a green tea b*tch and you don't even realize it!"

He clenched his teeth, silently roaring in his heart.

After merging with the memories of his predecessor, the original owner believed that Shen Meiyu was truly in love with him, but Yang Guangming clearly knew that it was just wishful thinking on the part of the original owner.

Looking back on everything, this woman clearly understands the ways of a "green tea" (a manipulative woman)!
The body she now inhabits is heroic, strong, tall, and handsome. Based on this alone, Shen Meiyu might have had a sliver of genuine affection for the original owner, but that's all; absolutely nothing more.

Every interaction she had with the original owner of this body, every single thing she did, every single word she uttered, was imbued with scheming and manipulation!
The original owner already had two older brothers and sisters who had been sent to the countryside last year. He was the youngest and most favored son in the family. His parents had already discussed that if he couldn't find a job on his own, his mother would retire early and let him take over.

There were six or seven students in their class who all chose to stay in the city as substitutes for other students.

Even if he ignores his parents' pleas and advice and insists on going to the countryside, it is still his own decision!

Instead of being deceived and misled!

In his frustration, his vision suddenly went black, then cleared up – it was no longer the dimness of the room, but another space!
A space that wasn't very large, with a soft white light shining inside, was clearly projected into his consciousness.

White interior walls, neatly arranged food... it's the large double-door, 900-liter refrigerator in the boss's office!

Yesterday afternoon, while his boss was abroad, he diligently stuffed things into his bag: expensive imported red wine, chocolate, top-quality steak...

There was even a small box of shimmering edible gold leaf! One hundred grams!

After the initial shock came ecstasy! Like a thirsty traveler in the desert plunging into a clear spring in an oasis.

"A blessing in disguise... the ancients were right!"

He almost burst out laughing, then quickly covered his mouth.

With a refrigerator as his personal space, and the contents inside, if he makes good use of it, whether he stays in the city as a substitute or cuts in line, his future will not be bad. This is because God does not want him to suffer again!
Although the space is a bit small and the things in the refrigerator are limited, it's already quite a lot, and he's very content!

The food in the refrigerator, plus that box of gold leaf, represented unimaginable wealth and confidence in an era of scarcity and rationing. The shrewdness and worldliness of her past life as a secretary instantly returned: now that she had the golden finger, she needed to plan carefully.

Succession is the last resort, and should only be used as a last resort, as evidenced by the attitude of the eldest brother and sister-in-law.

He didn't want his succession to cause unpleasantness in his family.

It's just about finding a job, right?
Just because the original owner couldn't do it doesn't mean he can't!

He has the foresight of a person from a later life and the work experience of a person from a previous life. He believes he can do it if given a chance!
He took a deep breath, the air, mixed with coal smoke and the smell of stale air, filled his lungs, bringing a sense of grounded reality.

They come, the security!
Once he made up his mind, he immediately dressed and got up quietly.

He was wearing faded blue work pants and a white cotton vest.

He groped his way out from under the bed and pulled out a chipped enamel basin, picked up a chipped enamel cup, a worn-out toothbrush, and a piece of stiff GuBen brand soap from the windowsill, draped a towel over his shoulder, and opened the door to the cubicle.

The door to the pavilion was ajar, from which came the hushed voice of the elder sister-in-law soothing the child and the babbling of the little nephew Zhuangzhuang.

The eldest brother, Yang Guanghui, was already up and shaving in front of a small, blurry mirror on the wall, using an old-fashioned blade razor, moving very carefully.

"Brother," Yang Guangming called out, his voice slightly hoarse.

Yang Guanghui glanced at him in the mirror and mumbled a "hmm".

He resembled his father, with a square face, sturdy build, and the composure of a skilled worker coupled with a subtle, almost imperceptible aloofness.

In the pavilion, the elder sister-in-law's figure flashed by, carrying Zhuangzhuang, her eyes quickly glancing at him before looking away.

Yang Guangming knew perfectly well that this sense of alienation stemmed from her mother's decision to give up her job to her.

Yang Guangming didn't say much, and carried the basin downstairs.

The stairs were steep and narrow, creaking as you stepped on them.

Go down to the first-floor courtyard, and the scene is even more "spectacular".

Grandma Chen, her back hunched, tended to the coal stove that had just been lit and was emitting blue smoke, slowly fanning herself with a tattered palm-leaf fan.

Her son, Uncle Chen, who looked a bit old, was carefully using tongs to pick up a new coal briquette to add to the furnace.

Teacher Feng's wife was holding an aluminum pot and waiting in line under their shed to get public tap water. Several enamel basins were already lined up under the tap.

"Good morning, Grandma! Good morning, Uncle! Good morning, Auntie!" Yang Guangming greeted them with a polite smile in his clear Shanghai dialect.

In this crowded Shikumen neighborhood, neighborly etiquette is the rule of survival.

"Oh my, Mingming's up already? You're up quite early this morning!" Granny Chen looked up, her wrinkles smoothing out, and she felt a fondness for the pretty, sweet-talking little boy.

"Good morning, brother!" Uncle Chen replied listlessly.

Mrs. Feng simply nodded, her eyes fixed on the dripping faucet.

Sunshine squeezed into the water tap to queue up.

The cold, rusty tap water splashed on my face, dispelling the last vestiges of sleepiness.

He rubbed a meager amount of white foam with a stiff soap, haphazardly splashed it on his face, and then wiped his neck. He brushed his teeth hastily, spat the mouthwash into the drain in the corner of the courtyard, and finally wiped himself dry with a damp towel, considering himself done.

After tidying up, I returned to the innermost part of the front building on the second floor, to my parents' small room. A small square table had been set up by the window.

Mother Zhang Xiuying was placing bowls of food onto the table.

The eldest brother held Zhuangzhuang in his arms and sat on the only chair with a backrest, while his sister-in-law was busy setting out the dishes.

Sunlight shines brightly as the pot is placed and the person sits down.

Breakfast was simple yet distinctly marked by the era: each person had a bowl of thin rice porridge soaked in boiled water, the grains so sparse they were almost translucent; in the middle were a small dish of dark, glossy pickled cucumbers and a small dish of dark-colored pickled radish. This was breakfast for the family.

　Reading is Lao Shi's oxygen cylinder, collecting is Lao Shi's pacemaker, tipping is a stimulant, and recommendation tickets and monthly tickets are the life-saving medicine to maintain Lao Shi's vital signs!
　　Will Lao Shi survive if he returns this book? And how long will he live? That depends on everyone!

　　
　
(End of this chapter)