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

July 15, 1993, Kyoto.

Yang Guangming woke up to the sound of birdsong.

Consciousness seemed to rise slowly from the bottom of a warm, calm lake, passing through a light, misty membrane, and naturally merging with the body of this world.

He opened his eyes and saw a smooth, white ceiling with a simple ceiling light hanging quietly.

The air conditioner hummed very softly, maintaining a pleasantly cool indoor temperature, contrasting with the faint chirping of cicadas coming from outside the window.

He lay quietly for a few seconds, feeling the just-right soft support of the mattress beneath him and the delicate, smooth fabric of the thin blanket covering him.

Then, the memories of his previous five lives, like files that had already been organized and archived, emerged clearly and orderly in his mind.

Centuries of time, countless joys and sorrows, highs and lows, have all converged in this young body.

Deep within his soul, the serenity and composure that came with the vicissitudes of life were deeply ingrained, but strangely enough, they did not create much of a sense of "mismatch" with this sixteen-year-old body.

Perhaps it is because the way of awakening this "mystery in the womb" is more gentle, or perhaps it is because the sixteen years of growth experience from birth to the present is real and true, an inseparable part of his life.

"The sixth incarnation... and it was in 1993."

Yang Guangming's lips curled into a barely perceptible smile. What welled up in his heart was not bewilderment, but a faint sense of novelty mixed with anticipation.

He slowly sat up, leaned against the soft, comfortable headboard, and looked around.

This is a spacious and bright bedroom, which looks to be over 20 square meters.

A light wood desk is placed against the wall, with textbooks, reference books, and several literary classics neatly stacked on it for all subjects in the first year of high school.

Against the wall is a row of floor-to-ceiling bookshelves. Behind the glass cabinet doors, the books are categorized into different types. In addition to study materials, there are also many books and DVDs related to music, movies, and performing arts.

A guitar stood in the corner, its case open.

The room is decorated in a simple yet stylish way, with beige walls, light gray curtains, and a few abstract art paintings.

The air was filled with the faint, clean scent of the boy's room, mixed with a hint of summer grass and trees wafting in from outside the window.

In this life, he is still called Yang Guangming. He was born in 1977 and is sixteen years old this year. He has just finished his first year of high school and his summer vacation has just begun.

My father, Yang Hongwen, is 47 years old. He is a professor in the Department of Literature at the Central Academy of Drama. He has a solid academic foundation and, more importantly, he has a keen business sense. In the 1980s, he seized the opportunity of educational publishing and art training, and accumulated a considerable fortune.

My mother, Chen Zhiyun, is 46 years old. She is a professor in the Vocal Music and Opera Department of the Central Conservatory of Music. She has profound professional knowledge and an elegant temperament.

In this life, his family was well-off, living in a rather advanced 200-square-meter apartment building with an elevator. Both his parents owned cars. Based on conversations he overheard his parents, his family's savings were conservatively estimated at three to five million.

Before his "awakening," he himself was the typical "other people's child."

She has excellent grades and is consistently among the top students in her grade. Influenced by her family's artistic atmosphere, she has studied piano, vocal music, and performance since childhood, and her talent is widely recognized. She has inherited the best features of her parents, with striking eyebrows, bright eyes, a high nose bridge, and a tall and slender figure, making her a head-turner on the street.

The original owner's dream was to get into a performing arts academy and become a superstar in the public eye. Although the people around him, including his parents, hoped that he would have a more "secure" future, they never denied that he had the potential to become a star.

Yang Guangming gently lifted the thin blanket, stepped barefoot onto the cool, smooth wooden floor, walked to the window, and drew back the curtains.

In an instant, the bright, dazzling sunlight of a midsummer morning flooded in, almost blinding him. He squinted slightly and looked out the window.

The community has excellent landscaping, with lush trees and colorful summer flowers blooming in the flower beds.

Further away, you can see the skyline of Kyoto in the 1990s. There aren't as many skyscrapers as in later years, but many new buildings have sprung up, exuding vitality.

Bicycles remain the main feature of the streets, but the sound of car horns has increased significantly.

This is a vibrant era, rapidly advancing. The tide of the market economy is surging forward, minds are being further liberated, cultural life is becoming increasingly rich, and opportunities seem to be everywhere.

For him, who carries nearly four hundred years of memories and a portable refrigerator space, this era is undoubtedly a much broader and more promising place to make his mark compared to the chaotic and special times he had traveled through before.

Those "hard currencies" and "advanced knowledge" that were once stored in space, which might have required caution or even been difficult to use in previous eras, can finally find suitable soil here, take root, sprout, and even grow into towering trees.

More importantly, in this life, he has a high starting point and a harmonious family. This allows him to have more choices and a more composed attitude.

Consciousness habitually sinks into the depths of the mind.

The 900-liter double-door refrigerator still floats there quietly.

Inside the space, supplies were neatly stacked. However, with the changing times, the significance of many of the "key" reserves has changed.

With a dazzling array of food, clothing for all seasons, daily necessities, and even survival gear for extreme environments, the urgency of providing essential goods in the 1990s, when material goods were becoming increasingly abundant, was greatly reduced. Instead, they were more of a supplement to convenience and quality of life.

The value of other things has been amplified infinitely in this era.

Fifty kilograms of gold, neatly stacked in a specific area of ​​the space, would not be difficult to convert into cash in this era.

Those special storage boxes contained jewels and jade, categorized into top-quality colorless diamonds, blue diamonds, pink diamonds, rubies, sapphires, and glass-type jadeite... each piece was priceless.

Those precious Chinese medicinal herbs that have been carefully processed and properly preserved—wild ginseng, musk, natural bezoar, rhinoceros horn, agarwood—have been hard currency in any era.

And then there are those high-capacity hard drives, storing massive amounts of data—from basic science to cutting-edge technology, from literary works to film scripts, from economic and financial analysis to historical details, encompassing everything. These are the treasures of the "prophet."

The space is still there, and a familiar sense of security fills my heart.

At the same time, he also clearly sensed that with this journey, the invisible control over space had been expanded once again.

With a slight thought, without even getting up, every detail of the room was clearly reflected in his "perception".

Centered on himself, everything within a five-meter radius appeared in his mind like a three-dimensional image, with every detail clearly visible, regardless of physical obstacles.

Radius is five meters.

It's one meter longer than the previous four meters. This provides more room to maneuver and better concealment.

In this relatively peaceful era, but with increasingly stringent surveillance and social management, this capability may play an unexpected role in certain situations.

As for the "daily refresh" function of the space core, he believes it is still stable and can be confirmed by midnight tonight.

The supplies he took would be automatically replenished at midnight every day, maintaining the space's basic reserves inexhaustible. This was his bottom line, ensuring that he and his loved ones would have a worry-free basic life in any era.

My thoughts drifted away from the space and refocused on reality.

He changed into the cotton lounge shorts and a simple white T-shirt that were placed by the bed; the fabric was soft and comfortable. He opened the door and went outside.

The living room is spacious and bright, covering more than 50 square meters. The decoration is a simple modern style, which is both stylish and warm.

A large floor-to-ceiling window lets in sunlight, illuminating the gleaming floor tiles. The leather sofa set, the large-screen color television, and the standing air conditioner in the corner all demonstrate the family's comfort and wealth.

Mother Chen Zhiyun was preparing breakfast in the kitchen. She was wearing a light purple loungewear dress, her hair was tied up, revealing her elegant neck. Hearing footsteps, she turned her head and looked at the scene with a gentle smile on her face.

"Mingming's awake? Go wash up quickly, breakfast will be ready soon. Your dad went to school early this morning, saying there was something urgent in the department, he'll be back at noon."

"Mom, good morning." Yang Guangming responded naturally, his tone carrying the intimacy of someone his age for their mother, yet also revealing a calmness beyond his years.

He went to the restroom.

The bathroom was clean and tidy, with all the necessary facilities. He looked at his youthful, handsome face in the mirror. At sixteen, his skin was smooth, and his eyes were bright—the prime of his life. But if you looked closely into those eyes, you would find a calmness and depth that didn't quite match his age, as if a tranquil ocean was hidden within them.

He quickly finished washing up, splashed his face with cool water, and felt even more refreshed.

Breakfast is already on the table. Perfectly fried eggs, golden toast, a small dish of bacon, milk, and freshly squeezed juice. Simple, yet nutritionally balanced and of excellent quality.

……

Summer vacation is relatively leisurely. In the blink of an eye, half a month has passed since the "mystery of the womb" was awakened, and he has completely adapted to his life and identity in this life.

He was genuinely delighted to be reborn in the 1990s. In this era, his golden touch, especially his "hard-hitting" skills and "information," could truly unleash its immense value.

However, he is only sixteen years old this year.

Legally, he is still a person with limited civil capacity. Opening a bank account independently to handle large sums of money, or signing important commercial contracts independently, will face numerous restrictions and troubles.

Even using unconventional methods would require unnecessary effort and risk, and would contradict his desired "low-key" and "composed" lifestyle. The fifty kilograms of gold, top-tier jewelry, precious medicinal herbs, and those hard drives containing immense information... how to safely, legally, and efficiently transform them into usable capital and advantages in this life requires a reliable channel and agent.

Their gaze naturally fell on their father, Yang Hongwen.

Based on my memory and observations over the past two weeks, my father, Yang Hongwen, not only possessed solid academic abilities but, more importantly, exhibited exceptional business acumen and market insight. In the 1980s, before the trend of intellectuals venturing into business became widespread, he dared to be a pioneer, successfully earning his first fortune by writing bestselling educational materials and opening art training classes. He continued to operate successfully, accumulating a net worth of millions. This demonstrates that he not only had ideas but also the ability to execute them, and was familiar with the domestic market environment and interpersonal relationships.

At the same time, my father is a steady and reliable person, meticulous in his work, and has a strong sense of responsibility towards his family. More importantly, he is my blood father in this life, and he is trustworthy.

"Perhaps... we can train him to become a 'first-generation rich'?" This thought became clear in Yang Guangming's mind.

Having experienced multiple cycles of starting from scratch and struggling against the tides of the times, he no longer has the passion to personally take the lead and start a business from scratch in this life.

The ups and downs of the business world can be rewarding, but it also means endless busyness and social obligations. He has enjoyed the view from the top, and he has also experienced the hardships involved.

In this life, with a high family starting point and many opportunities in the era, he prefers to live a different way. He wants to be a "behind-the-scenes manipulator" who controls the direction and provides core resources, letting his capable and ambitious father take the lead in developing the industry, while he enjoys a relatively leisurely, affluent life as a "second-generation rich kid" who can explore his interests at will. At the same time, he wants to ensure that the family's wealth and status can reach a higher level. Why not?
Of course, all of this is predicated on the father accepting and believing in the source of the "start-up capital" and "information support" he can provide.

To directly confess to time travel and space manipulation? That would be too shocking. We must weave a story that aligns with the understanding of this era, is self-consistent, and has solid "evidence."

After pondering for a long time, Yang Guangming, combining the social atmosphere of the early 1990s, people's imagination, and a subtle yearning for overseas relations, gradually formed the framework of a "story" in his mind.

"A mysterious, elderly, wealthy Chinese-American master... We met in the park, he took me as his disciple, and gifted me his property..."

The core elements of this story are: the gift of money is real, and the motive is reasonable and difficult to investigate further.

As for the details of the master, the more vague the better, only highlighting the key characteristics: surname Yang, over eighty years old, in declining health, homesick, briefly living in Kyoto, preferring quiet, and often going to a certain park.

He met Yang Guangming through playing chess, boxing, or simply chatting, and they became extremely close, so he took Yang Guangming as his disciple. Recently, due to health reasons or business, he returned to the United States, leaving behind an astonishing fortune as "pocket money" before leaving, and promising to keep in touch in the future, and that his entire estate would belong to him.

This story, though bizarre, was not entirely unacceptable to parents who were highly educated in the 1990s.

Since the reform and opening up, topics such as overseas relationships, serendipitous encounters, and legacies have inherently carried a certain legendary quality. The key is that the "evidence" he presents must be impactful enough to leave no room for doubt.

Having thought all this through, Yang Guangming felt at peace. He decided to confront his parents that very night.

Dinner was cooked by my mother, Chen Zhiyun; it consisted of two dishes and a soup, and was light and delicious.

Father Yang Hongwen returned home on time, looking a little tired, but in good spirits, as if the afternoon's negotiations had gone quite smoothly.

The atmosphere at the dinner table was harmonious.

Yang Ming was a little quieter than usual, as if he was thinking about something important. His parents noticed, but didn't ask immediately, only glancing at him occasionally.

After the meal, Yang Guangming volunteered to help clear the table. Once his mother had brewed a pot of tea, the three of them sat down on the sofa in the living room and watched the news on television.

Yang Guangming took a deep breath and turned off the TV.

The living room suddenly fell silent, with only the slight sound of the air conditioner blowing air.

Yang Hongwen and Chen Zhiyun both looked at their son with some surprise.

"Dad, Mom, there's something I want to tell you." Yang Guangming spoke, his tone more solemn than ever before, even carrying a seriousness rarely seen at his age.

Yang Hongwen and Chen Zhiyun exchanged a glance, both seeing confusion and a hint of tension in each other's eyes. What's wrong with their son? Has he encountered something difficult at school? Or... is he in a relationship?

"Mingming, what's wrong? Why are you so serious?" Chen Zhiyun put down her teacup and asked with concern.

Yang Hongwen also pushed up his glasses, leaned forward slightly, and adopted a posture of listening attentively.

Yang Guangming organized his thoughts and began to tell the story according to the "script" he had prepared.

"About a month ago, I often went to the nearby park for morning runs or to read books."

He spoke slowly and calmly, looking at his parents with clear eyes. “There, I often met an old man. He looked very old, probably over eighty, but he was in good spirits. He wore very simple Chinese clothes and often walked there alone, practicing Tai Chi, or just sitting on a bench reading a book.”

Yang Hongwen and Chen Zhiyun listened carefully, their brows furrowed slightly, but they did not interrupt.

"Once, my basketball rolled to his feet, and he picked it up for me. We chatted for a bit. I found him to be very interesting to talk to, and he had a lot of knowledge. He seemed to know everything about everything, from ancient times to the present, both Chinese and foreign."

Moreover, the Tai Chi he practiced looked different from the others in the park; it was more... more fluid, more graceful.

Yang Guangming described the scene, trying to make the details seem real: "Later, I often went to the park at that time and always ran into him. We would chat together, and sometimes I would practice Tai Chi with him. He seemed to like me quite a bit, saying that I was 'pure-hearted and had wisdom.'"

He said his surname was Yang, the same as mine, which was fate. I asked him his name, and he smiled and shook his head, saying that names weren't important, they were just a label.

He only said that he was a Chinese American who had left home when he was young and had been living abroad for decades, working in many different trades. Now that he is older, he misses his homeland very much, so he came back to live for a while and experience the changes in his hometown.

We hit it off really well.

He has few relatives, and he said that seeing me is like seeing a reflection of his younger self.

As Yang Guangming spoke, a touch of poignant emotion lingered in his voice. "He taught me boxing, and he also shared many principles of life and conduct with me, as well as the trials and tribulations he experienced overseas."

I could sense that he was a very extraordinary person. Although he dressed simply, his speech and demeanor possessed a kind of... I can't quite put my finger on it, but it was the kind of composure that only someone who had seen the world and weathered many storms possessed.

Yang Hongwen and Chen Zhiyun's expressions gradually changed. Although their son's description was bizarre, it was rich in detail and sincere in emotion, and did not seem to be fabricated out of thin air.

Moreover, my son has indeed been more composed than before in the past two weeks, and his demeanor seems to be somewhat different. Could it be that he has been influenced by this old man?
"About... ten days ago."

Yang Guangming continued, his tone becoming even more somber, "He was waiting for me in the park again, looking worse than usual. He said his lawyer in America contacted him, saying there were some urgent matters he needed to return to handle personally, and he also had some old health problems that required checkups and recuperation. He might be returning to America soon."

We talked for a long time that day. As I was leaving, he... he suddenly said to me very solemnly that he was getting old and didn't know if he would be able to come back this time.

He said he had accumulated a lot throughout his life, but had no close relatives or descendants. Seeing me, he felt it was a blessing from heaven.

Yang Guangming paused, observing his parents' incredulous expressions, and slowly uttered the most crucial part: "He said he had nothing to leave me, only some 'worldly things'."

He said that these things would be nothing but a pile of dead objects if they stayed with him, so it would be better to leave them to me as... a little 'pocket money' for the younger generation, or as a memento of our friendship despite the age gap.

I was completely bewildered and had no idea what he was talking about, so I declined.

But he insisted, saying that everything was arranged and someone would deliver the items to me.

He repeatedly told me not to tell anyone except my parents, that he was getting old and just wanted some peace and quiet, and didn't want to see anyone except me.

Yang Hongwen and Chen Zhiyun were completely stunned. This story... it was too much like a plot from a legendary novel or TV series! A mysterious Chinese-American tycoon, a chance encounter in a park, entrusting a huge fortune to a destined young man...

"Did...did they send that thing to you?" Yang Hongwen's voice was a little hoarse. He instinctively felt that this was absurd, but his son's expression and narration made it impossible for him to completely deny it.

"Sent."

"What is it?" Chen Zhiyun asked instinctively, her voice tense.

Yang Guangming didn't answer directly, but stood up: "The thing... is in my room. I... I'll go get it."

He turned and walked towards his bedroom, leaving Yang Hongwen and Chen Zhiyun staring at each other in the living room. They both saw immense shock, bewilderment, and a hint of... absurdity in each other's eyes.

Could my son have been scammed? Or... has he developed some kind of delusions? But my son has always been smart and steady; it doesn't seem like it!
A moment later, Yang Guangming came out of the bedroom carrying a small but heavy-looking box.

He placed the box on the smooth floor tiles in the center of the living room, making a dull "thump" sound, indicating that it was quite heavy.

Under his parents' watchful eyes, Yang Guangming squatted down, dialed the combination lock, and then gently lifted the lid of the suitcase.

In an instant, the soft light from the living room ceiling light spilled into the box, creating a dazzling, heavy golden yellow that dazzled Yang Hongwen and Chen Zhiyun!
Inside the box, gold bars were neatly and densely stacked! Each bar had a standard size and weight mark, and under the light, they shone with a restrained yet dazzling luster—the most primal, straightforward, and awe-inspiring light of wealth!
"This...this is..."

Yang Hongwen suddenly stood up, his glasses slipping down to the tip of his nose from the sudden movement. Ignoring the weight, he strode to the box, squatted down, and picked up a gold bar with trembling hands.

It feels heavy and cold to the touch. The purity mark "999.9" and the weight "1000g" are clearly engraved on it.

He was a worldly man; by touch and by observing the color, he could almost immediately tell that this was real gold! High-purity real gold!
Judging by its size, this box probably weighs ten kilograms!
Ten kilograms of gold!
Based on the current domestic gold price, it is around 110 yuan per gram.

At that time, the international gold price was about 66.6 yuan per gram, but the domestic market implemented a dual-track system, with a large difference between the official price and the market price. This box of gold was worth more than one million yuan!
Chen Zhiyun also covered her mouth and walked over, staring in shock at the box full of gold bars, then looked up at her son as if she were seeing him for the first time.

“This…this is only…a part.” Yang Guangming’s voice rang out at the right moment, still calm, but to his parents it was like a thunderclap. “There are nine more boxes like this. In addition, there is a small box…something else.”

Nine more boxes? That's one hundred kilograms of gold!
Its value... exceeds ten million RMB!
In an era when "ten-thousand-yuan households" were still a rare term, what was the concept of ten million?
Yang Hongwen felt he was having trouble breathing, and his mind was racing. (End of Chapter)