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

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August 25, 1948, early morning in Beiping (Beijing).

The first rays of dawn, before the silence of the night had been completely dispelled, shone through the gaps in the tattered window paper onto the earthen bed.

Yang Guangming woke up amidst an unbearable hunger. His stomach felt like it was on fire, his empty abdomen was cramping, and his limbs were weak and sore, as if even lifting a finger required immense effort.

The instant he regained full consciousness, a vast and chaotic torrent of memories, like a river bursting its banks, rushed into his mind.

In his first life, he was the personal secretary of a top tycoon in the 21st century, witnessing both extreme luxury and undercurrents.

In his second life, he was Yang Guangming, a young man from Shanghai in 1969. With the space in his portable refrigerator and his extraordinary skills, he protected his family amidst the torrent of the times, quietly built a business empire, and enjoyed a peaceful life at the age of 110.

In his third life, he was a genius student at Peking University in 1960. He graduated early with his advanced mathematical knowledge, entered the Institute of Mathematics of the Chinese Academy of Sciences, pursued a relaxed and leisurely life, and won the Fields Medal before the age of forty with outstanding achievements. He eventually became a centenarian again.

Memories of three lifetimes and two hundred years of vicissitudes surged forth like a tide, completely merging with the fragments of his seventeen years as a boy in this life, becoming indistinguishable from one another.

His rich experience, profound wisdom, deep-seated love and hate, and detached understanding of the world are all deeply imprinted on his soul, forming a unique and complex background.

"This is... the fourth incarnation."

Sunlight streamed down as he lay on the hard earthen bed, the mat beneath him rough and cold, its edges worn and frayed, revealing the dark yellow straw underneath.

His gaze was somewhat unfocused as he stared at the roof rafters, blackened by the dust of time, where a few strands of cobwebs hung, swaying gently in the faint morning light.

However, after only a few breaths, that moment of disorientation was replaced by calm.

As if having gone through countless reincarnations, the soul has long been accustomed to the astonishment and shock of this shift in time and space, giving rise to a calm composure that remains unchanged even when Mount Tai collapses before it, or rather, a profound silence in the face of the vicissitudes of fate.

In this life, Yang Guangming was born into a large family that had not yet separated.

The head of the family is the 60-year-old grandfather, Yang Hanzhang.

My grandfather had three sons and two daughters. The eldest son and daughter were born to his first wife, while the other two sons and daughter were born to his second wife.

Now, all three sons and two daughters have married and started families.

The family structure is somewhat complicated. Yang Guangming's father, Yang Huairen, is the eldest son, born to his first wife.

That step-grandmother was a shrewd and capable old lady with bound feet.

Fortunately, Grandpa Yang Hanzhang was also a shrewd and capable man who could make decisions. Over the years, he was able to keep things under control and maintain harmony on the surface, which is why the family has not fallen apart even now, when things are in turmoil.

After a brief moment of reflection, the harsh reality, like icy, bone-chilling seawater, quickly overwhelmed the initial haze of awakening.

Hunger, the excruciating feeling of hunger, became the most acute and undeniable presence.

We've been out of food for two days now.

Yesterday, the whole family survived on the meager amount of wild vegetables they dug up, which were barely edible. At this moment, he felt completely drained, his stomach was burning, and the sensation of his chest pressing against his back was so clear. It was a kind of emptiness that could erode one's will and gradually drive one into madness.

He subconsciously, almost instinctively, sank his consciousness deep into his mind.

In an instant, the familiar 900-liter double-door refrigerator space faithfully floated there once again, like an unchanging star.

The space was still crammed full of all sorts of supplies that had been meticulously prepared in the previous life:

From survival gear for extreme environments, precious gold and jewelry, a full range of medicines, and well-packaged knowledge storage containers, to a dazzling array of food products—rice, flour, cooking oil, vegetables, fruits…the variety is extensive, clearly divided into sections, and everything you could want is available.

"Thankfully... my old friends are still here." Yang Guangming felt a sudden sense of relief, and an indescribable sense of security and confidence welled up within him.

This space, which accompanied him through three lifetimes, was his greatest asset and last bastion in this chaotic era of extreme scarcity and near collapse of order, allowing him to find a place to live and protect his family.

At the same time, he also keenly noticed that with this new journey, the refrigerator space seemed to have undergone a subtle change.

He subtly moved his mind and tried to sense his surroundings.

Sure enough, the invisible control range that could remotely capture or place objects expanded from a diameter of two meters in the previous life to three meters!
This means he can collect items from a greater distance, more discreetly, and more safely, providing him with more convenience and operational flexibility in areas such as information gathering, responding to emergencies, and "acquiring" external supplies when necessary.

However, the pressing reality at hand left him no time to savor the joy brought by this "upgrade".

The family of five—father Yang Huai-ren, mother Chu Yuan-jun, thirteen-year-old sister Yang Jing-wan, nine-year-old sister Yang Jing-yi, and himself—were all crammed onto this large kang (heated brick bed).

Any slight, inappropriate noise could disturb family members living nearby and draw unnecessary inquiries.

But the agonizing hunger, like a venomous snake, relentlessly gnawed at his stomach lining and his will. He simply could no longer endure it.

His mind quickly scanned the food compartments in the refrigerated area, and he selected a high-energy dark chocolate.

Carefully using your mind, take out a piece, quickly put it in your mouth, coat it with saliva, and the slightly bitter and sweet mellow taste slowly melts in your mouth, quickly replenishing the depleted sugar and bringing a faint but real sense of power.

Although he chewed very softly, almost inaudibly, his younger sister Yang Jingwan, who was lying beside him, was still startled by the extremely faint rustling sound.

She groggily opened her eyes, her long eyelashes fluttering a few times, her voice hoarse from just waking up and weak from hunger: "Brother... what do you want to eat?"

In the darkness, her eyes, which appeared unusually large due to long-term malnutrition, looked somewhat empty on her thin face, yet at this moment they carried a hint of instinctive curiosity and exploration.

Yang Guangming sighed softly in his heart.

Chocolate was too outrageous for a family like theirs in this day and age, and its origin was simply inexplicable.

With another thought, the unfinished chocolate in his hand instantly disappeared into his spatial storage. At the same time, a more common fruit hard candy appeared at his fingertips, which he gently placed into his sister's slightly open mouth.

"Shh...don't make a sound, keep it in your mouth." He lowered his voice, almost whispering.

Yang Jingwan's eyes widened instantly in the darkness!
A pure and intense sweetness exploded in her dry and bitter mouth, quickly spreading throughout her entire oral cavity. The wonderful taste even temporarily overwhelmed the agonizing hunger.

She covered her mouth with her hand in disbelief, her thin shoulders slightly hunched, as if afraid the sweetness would escape.

She gave a very soft, indistinct "hmm," her voice brimming with happiness and contentment that seemed almost overflowing.

In the dim light, her large eyes, looking at her brother, were filled with surprise and even deeper confusion.

This slight noise eventually disturbed Chu Yuanjun and Yang Huai Ren, who were already unable to sleep soundly due to worry, fear, and hunger.

On the other side, the little sister Jingyi also woke up, rubbing her sleepy eyes and mumbling.

"Mingming, Jingwan, what's wrong? What are you two talking about?"

Chu Yuanjun's voice was filled with exhaustion and weakness. She struggled to sit up halfway and looked towards her children.

Yang Huai-ren also turned his head and looked over in the dim light. Although he did not speak, his heavy breathing revealed his concern.

Seeing that he couldn't hide it any longer, Yang Guangming quickly "pulled out" three pieces of fruit candy from his storage space and gave them to his mother who was leaning over, his father who was looking at him, and his dazed little sister.

"Dad, Mom, Jingyi, each of you should have a piece of candy to fill your stomachs. If you don't eat something to boost your energy, you might not even be able to get off the bed today, and you'll really be lying there like a corpse."

He tried to keep his tone calm, attempting to dispel the doubts on his family's faces.

Yang Huai-ren took the small, hard lump that was slightly cool, paused for a moment in the darkness, and then silently groped his way to put it in his mouth.

In an instant, a complex sweetness filled his dry mouth, making him unable to resist pressing his tongue against it.

The sweetness of the candy did soothe his parched, burning throat, but the heaviness in his heart and the uncertainty about the future remained undiminished. He smacked his lips for a moment, then remained silent.

Chu Yuanjun then bent down urgently and asked in a low voice, "Guangming, where did you get this candy... this candy?"

“Mom, don’t worry, it’s just a few pieces of candy.” Yang Guangming interrupted his mother, his tone calm and firm. “I’ve been secretly saving them up, and I haven’t been able to bear eating them. Now is a critical time, so we can’t worry about that now. We need to get through this first.”

He fabricated a relatively plausible excuse, which, though far-fetched, was barely tenable in the face of extreme hunger.

Chu Yuanjun's lips moved slightly, as if she wanted to ask something more, but the faint energy from the melting candy in her mouth and the psychological comfort made her swallow her words.

She simply sighed softly, holding the life-saving candy in her mouth, savoring the long-lost, heartbreakingly sweet taste. Her eyes involuntarily welled up with tears, and she quickly turned her head away, wiping them with her sleeve.

A piece of candy is certainly not enough to fill an empty stomach, but that little bit of sugar seems to have temporarily calmed the restless stomach and given the whole family some strength to struggle to get up.

As is customary, a thorough washing and grooming routine is out of the question.

The family used the last bit of murky, cold water in the broken earthenware basin to wet their hands and hastily wipe their faces, considering that enough to clean themselves. The water tank was already empty; this little bit of water was saved from yesterday, and it was bought with money, so every drop used was precious.

Yang Huai-ren's left leg was badly injured. Two days ago, when he returned from buying grain at the black market, he was hit hard by the robbers' clubs. At this moment, the wound was swollen and covered with a shocking bruise. His skin was taut and shiny, and he could not put any weight on it.

He lay on the kang (a heated brick bed) for two days, feeling that all the bones in his body were stiff, and with the excruciating pain in his left leg, he insisted on going to the main house.

Yang Guangming silently handed over the simple walking stick he had carefully whittled and made from a Y-shaped tree branch, then turned to the side and firmly supported his father's arm.

With his son's support and his cane, Yang Huai-ren moved very slowly, step by step, toward the door.

With every movement, even when his injured left leg wasn't touching the ground, a piercing, throbbing pain would shoot through him.

The father and son, one staggering and the other carefully supporting each other, slowly moved out of the small, dimly lit room.

The mother, Chu Yuanjun, silently followed behind, holding one daughter in each hand. The younger daughter, Jingyi, was only eight years old, so thin that she was skin and bones. She walked with unsteady steps and wobbled, needing her mother to lift her up to keep her steady.

The main house was also dilapidated, with several obvious leaks in the roof, which were barely plugged with broken tiles and thatch. However, it was slightly larger than the house they lived in and served as the family's daily gathering place.

At this time, the families of Yang Huaiyi (second uncle) and Yang Huaili (third uncle) also arrived one after another.

The atmosphere in the courtyard was so oppressive it was suffocating. Even the children who would occasionally cry or play seemed to sense the despair of the adult world. They nestled in their mothers' arms, their big, lifeless eyes wide open, neither crying nor making a fuss.

The family members standing or squatting in the courtyard were all emaciated, with sunken eyes and numb gazes, like a group of puppets whose souls had been taken away, quietly awaiting the judgment of an unknown fate.

Yang Guangming's mother, Chu Yuanjun, and her two sisters-in-law exchanged glances, all seeing the same helplessness and sorrow in each other's eyes.

They silently walked to the kitchen and began to "busy".

It was called busy work, but in reality, it was just about scooping water into a huge iron pot, covering it with a heavy wooden lid, and then silently squatting in front of the stove, lighting a handful of dry straw and stuffing it into the stove hole.

The stove was cold and covered in dust, the rice container next to it was already empty, and the flour sack was also empty, drooping in the corner.

Not a single grain of rice, not a pinch of flour, not a speck of oil. The so-called breakfast was just a large pot of water about to boil.

Soon, the whole family of more than a dozen people silently gathered in the main room. Some sat around the old kang table, while others squeezed under the edge of the kang, each holding a rough earthenware bowl of different colors, most of which had chips, filled with boiling water.

White steam rose in wisps, blurring the sorrowful faces.

No one spoke; the room was eerily quiet, save for the occasional slurping sound of people drinking water.

The scalding hot water temporarily soothed the empty, convulsing stomach, bringing a false sense of warmth, but it brought no feeling of fullness. Instead, it intensified the body's frantic craving for real food. A suffocating atmosphere, a mixture of despair and helplessness, filled the air.

After the water in the bowl was finished, the kang table was silently removed.

The head of the household, Yang Hanzhang, sixty years old, wearing an old-fashioned long gown that had been washed until it was faded and had several dark patches, slowly sat up straight on the kang (a heated brick bed).

His gaunt face was etched with deep lines left by the years and suffering. His once shrewd eyes now appeared cloudy, filled with an unconcealable sorrow and a deep-seated weariness.

His back was slightly hunched, as if the burdens of life weighed him down and he couldn't straighten up.

Beside him sat Yang Guangming's stepmother, an equally thin old woman with bound feet, whose expression always carried a hint of seriousness and calculation.

At this moment, her lips were pressed into a pale line, her wrinkled hands were folded on her knees, her eyes were lowered, staring at her small, pointed feet, lost in thought.

Yang Hanzhang silently surveyed his children and grandchildren, his gaze like a heavy stone roller, slowly grinding over their faces, which were pale or swollen from hunger.

Finally, the image focuses on the eldest son, Yang Huai-ren's, visibly swollen left leg, which is unable to touch the ground.

His Adam's apple bobbed violently, and his chapped lips trembled as if he wanted to say something comforting or encouraging, but in the end, all his words turned into an almost inaudible sigh and were swallowed back down.

The room was so quiet that you could hear the whistling of the wind blowing through the torn paper windows.

After a long silence, Yang Hanzhang finally spoke in an extremely hoarse voice, breaking the suffocating silence:
“Our Yang family…our ancestors were once wealthy.”

His voice carried a distant, unreal quality of memory, abruptly pulling everyone's thoughts back to a past that, though not so long ago, now felt like a lifetime ago.

“When I was young, my family owned two decent silk shops on Qianmen Street.”

He squinted slightly, his gaze somewhat unfocused, as if piercing through the thick dust of time and seeing the long-gone bustling and peaceful prosperity. "I dare not say we are rich and powerful, making a fortune every day, but at least... our family will have enough to eat and wear, we will live a respectable life, and when we go out, our neighbors will look at us with respect."

Back then, you five siblings…

His gaze swept over his three sons one by one. "I sent them all to Western-style schools. They learned to read and write, and became well-mannered. Back then, I was hoping that one of you would become someone who would bring honor to the family... Alas!"

He sighed heavily, his eyes quickly dimming, returning to the bleakness of reality.

He paused, his voice growing lower and deeper, filled with a profound sense of helplessness.

"But this world... this damned world! When national war breaks out, chaos ensues, and everything is ruined."

The shop's business plummeted, and taxes piled up like hairs on a cow... Five years ago, the last shop was sold.

To make ends meet, the last ancestral home in the city was sold two years ago, even at great expense.

Now, we're renting someone else's house to live in; we're truly living under someone else's roof.

His voice carried a deep sense of powerlessness and an overwhelming self-mockery.

"I originally thought that by selling the shop and house, the money I would get would be enough to support my family for a while and help us get through this chaotic world."

Who would have thought... that the printing presses are running day and night, and money is becoming less and less valuable! The money that could buy a bag of flour last year can't even buy a pound of rice this year!

He became agitated, clenched his thin hand into a fist, and slammed it heavily on the cold edge of the kang (a heated brick bed), making a dull thud.

"A few days ago, the higher-ups issued another strict order to exchange for gold yuan notes!"

Three million! Three million legal tender could only be exchanged for one gold yuan!

His voice trembled with anger and despair, “All the last of our family’s savings, and everything else that could be moved or pawned, we took and exchanged for this stack of paper scraps!”

Yang Hanzhang's voice choked with emotion, his gaze painfully fixed on Yang Huai Ren's injured leg, and turbid tears welled up in his eyes.

"I was thinking that, before the gold yuan notes came out and the market reacted and they became worthless, I should quickly buy all the food with all the money!"

Food is hard currency; with food, you won't panic! And you can survive!
But as you can see... there are long queues outside legitimate grain stores, and there are purchase limits, so you can't buy much even if you fight your head off!
There was no other way but to bite the bullet and go to the black market, hoping to buy more... But I was worried about being robbed, so I specifically sent the three of you brothers along, thinking that more people would be safer.”

When he spoke of being robbed while buying grain on the black market and his eldest son being seriously injured, his voice went completely hoarse, filled with endless regret and pain.

"Not a single grain of food was saved. The eldest son also... injured his leg and is now like this... The family has no rice left and no money."

We can't even afford a single penny to hire a doctor for our eldest son or get some herbal medicine to promote blood circulation and remove blood stasis...

He took a deep breath, his voice like a broken bellows, as if he had used up all the last of his strength to finally utter the difficult decision that had been swirling in his mind for so long, yet he had always found it hard to say:
"I just can't take it anymore!"
If we keep tied together like this, no one will find a way to survive; we'll all starve to death and perish together.

After a moment of silence, he said, "Let's... divide this family today."

As soon as these words were spoken, the room fell into a deathly silence.

The air seemed to freeze, so heavy it was suffocating. Only the toddler in the corner, oblivious to the atmosphere, let out a few faint whimpers, barely audible, before his mother anxiously covered his mouth.

Although the difficulties of the past few days had given everyone a vague premonition, when the two heavy words "separation of the family" were clearly and desperately uttered by the head of the family, everyone present, whether adults or children who were old enough to understand, felt a strong sense of palpitation and overwhelming bewilderment.

Is our family, this big family that has always stood together for warmth, finally going to fall apart?

"From now on, you three families, each of you, should find your own way to survive."

"I, as your father... am useless, incompetent, I've let you all down, I've let down the ancestors of the Yang family..."

Yang Hanzhang's voice lowered, filled with endless self-blame and desolation, "There's nothing left at home... just the only iron pot, a few broken bowls that are badly chipped, and the few tattered clothes we're wearing... that's all our possessions."

The rent…

He pointed and said, "The lease expires in two days. If you want to stay longer, each roommate will have to figure out how to pay next month's rent."

What if... what if one of the households can't come up with the money and gets evicted by the landlord...

Whether to build a shack outside the city or sleep under a bridge... I... I can't care anymore... I'm too busy taking care of myself..."

By the end, the old man was in tears, unable to speak, and buried his face in his withered, trembling hands.

He was a strong-willed man all his life. His early life was smooth sailing. He managed his family business and educated his children. He never imagined that in his later years he would fall into such a desperate situation, watching helplessly as his children and grandchildren struggled on the brink of life and death.
Yang Huai-ren, whom Yang Ming was supporting tightly, began to tremble slightly uncontrollably.

He was a filial son, and seeing his father so heartbroken, he felt as if his heart was being pierced by countless needles.

He abruptly broke free from his son's support, relying entirely on the branch-shaped cane in his hand for support, barely managing to stand. He was the first to speak, his voice hoarse:

"Dad, please stop talking. It's all my fault, no matter what. I agree to separate the family."

He turned around with difficulty, glanced at his wife with tears streaming down her face and his two young, innocent daughters behind him, and forced a bitter smile that was more painful than crying:
“It’s because our son is useless and incapable of supporting the family. Now he’s become a burden… Sending him out will at least lighten the burden on the family.”

Guangming is already seventeen, a grown man, and capable of handling things.

My leg is useless, but Guangming can go out and find some odd jobs, like carrying bags, pulling carts, anything!
Life is tough for everyone these days, but as long as you're willing to work hard, you can always find a way to make a living.

Digging for wild vegetables and peeling tree bark, they could survive no matter what.

If all else fails... I can swallow my pride and ask my old friends and classmates for help.

"No matter how difficult things get, can it be worse than those homeless refugees on the streets?"

His words were meant to comfort his grief-stricken father and to encourage his trembling family of five behind him, trying to sound optimistic even though he himself had no confidence at all.

Second Uncle Yang Huaiyi, quick-witted as ever, also had reddened eyes. He glanced rapidly at his eldest brother's injured leg and his large family behind him, and then said:
"What my elder brother said is true, Dad. Please don't blame yourself."

It's because your sons are incompetent and useless that they can't let you enjoy your old age in peace, and instead make you worry and fret with us.

"We have no objection to splitting up the family property; we'll do whatever you say."

His mind raced. Although splitting up the family meant losing the last bit of protection from the extended family, it also meant getting rid of the eldest son's family, which seemed to be the biggest burden at the moment. Perhaps... his own family could live a little easier.
Third Uncle Yang Huaili was a bit rough around the edges. Seeing his father's tears and his elder brother's miserable state, he felt a pang of sorrow in his heart. He wiped his face hard and said in a muffled voice:
"Dad, eldest brother, second brother! Let's just break up! What's the use of crying! There's always a way out! I, Yang Huaili, may not be good at much else, but I certainly have this much strength!"

Tomorrow I'll go to the docks and carry heavy loads! I'll haul coal from the coal yard! I refuse to believe I can't earn enough to eat!

If this had happened a few years ago, when the family hadn't completely fallen on hard times and still had some wealth and possessions, the division of the family property would inevitably have involved heated arguments and petty disputes.

After all, the three brothers were not born of the same mother. Yang Guangming's biological grandmother was his first wife, who died young; his current stepmother was his grandfather's second wife, and she gave birth to his two sons and one daughter.

Although the stepmother was a shrewd and capable old woman with bound feet who inevitably had selfish motives, Yang Hanzhang was also shrewd and capable, and relatively fair in his dealings. He was always able to keep the situation under control. In addition, given the turbulent times, the family had to stick together to get through the difficulties and avoid being bullied. Therefore, they maintained a relatively harmonious relationship on the surface.

But now, apart from these dozen or so mouths to feed, the family has absolutely nothing left.

With no wealth to fight over and no profit to gain, there is naturally no basis for conflict. What remains is only the helplessness of sharing the same fate and the instinct to struggle for survival.

Yang Hanzhang looked at his three sons—the seriously injured eldest son, the second son with shifty eyes, and the third son with a fierce expression—and his eyes welled up with tears again.

He waved his hand weakly, his body hunched over even more, as if ten years of his lifespan had been instantly drained away; his voice was weary and extremely aged.
"That's enough... everyone can go now. Those who need to find work, hurry up and find work... those who need to go dig for wild vegetables... well, go too..."

The last word was so soft it was almost inaudible.

Everyone rose silently, their movements slow and deliberate, like puppets on strings. No one spoke; the heavy atmosphere weighed on everyone's hearts like a massive lead weight, making even breathing difficult.

Yang Guangming silently helped his almost exhausted father up again.

The mother, Chu Yuanjun, held her youngest daughter, Jingyi, tightly with one hand, and put her other arm around the slender shoulder of her eldest daughter, Jingwan.

The family, like candles flickering in the wind, silently and slowly made their way back to their even narrower and darker room.

The kang (heated brick bed) was bare, without even a complete mat, revealing the dark yellow, damp earthen bricks underneath.

The family members either slumped on the edge of the kang (a heated brick bed) or leaned against the cold earthen wall, looking at each other in despair. The atmosphere of despair, like a cold and viscous tide, silently crept up, engulfing every inch of space and choking every breath.

Chu Yuanjun could no longer hold back; the grief he had suppressed for so long turned into low sobs, and his shoulders heaved violently.

Little Jingyi seemed to have fully grasped the terrifying despair of the adult world. She clung tightly to her mother, her small body trembling, her big eyes filled with tears of confusion and fear.

The younger sister, Jingwan, clung tightly to her brother, Yang Guangming's arm, as if he were the only piece of driftwood she could grasp in this endless darkness. Her large eyes, which resembled her mother's, were filled with dependence and unease.

Yang Huai-ren slumped against the cold edge of the kang (a heated brick bed), his cane falling to the ground with a thud at his feet.

He looked at his wife, who was crying softly and desperately, at his two young, pitiful, and emaciated daughters, and then at his own useless left leg. The muscles on his face twitched violently, and he was overwhelmed by immense pain and self-blame.

He suddenly raised his hands and covered his face tightly, letting out a muffled and desperate sob, with turbid tears gushing out from between his fingers.

The road ahead seemed shrouded in a thick, impenetrable fog, devoid of any light, only endless darkness and cold. (End of Chapter)