Back to 2008: I Helped My Dad Become the Richest Man

January 24, 2008, 7:35 PM.

As the closing theme of the evening news program "Xinwen Lianbo" ended, the weather forecast anchor pointed to the alarming dark blue area on the map: "Affected by a strong cold front, a large area of ​​rain, snow, and freezing weather will occur in central and southern my country. Viewers are advised to take precautions against the cold..."

"It's going to snow again." Nine-year-old Rowan sat cross-legged in front of the TV, holding half a roasted sweet potato in his hand.

Fourteen-year-old Luo Xiyuan was squatting beside the coffee table doing her winter vacation homework when she heard this and looked up at the screen. The scene switched to real footage of the disaster area, where power lines were covered with thick ice, roadside trees were bent over, and vehicles were slowly moving on the icy roads.

Her pen stopped.

A strange sense of familiarity washed over her, like an old movie she'd seen countless times suddenly replaying before her eyes. No, it was more real than that; she could smell the disinfectant from her memory, and feel the chill of the snowflakes falling on her neck on the day of the funeral…

"Sis, what are you spacing out for?" Luo Wen waved his hand in front of her eyes.

Luo Xiyuan suddenly snapped out of her daze and realized that she had been staring at the television screen.

The old-fashioned wall clock pointed to 7:37.

She remembered this time.

My father put on that military green cotton overcoat and left home around the time the evening news ended. He never came back.

"Where's Dad?" Luo Xiyuan threw down her pen and stood up, her voice strained.

Luo Wen took a bite of sweet potato and mumbled, "He's counting money in the back room. He said he's going to see Uncle Chen later..."

Before she could finish speaking, Luo Xiyuan rushed towards her parents' room, her cotton slippers making hurried footsteps on the floor.

The door was ajar, and dim light leaked through the crack. The father, Luo Xinde, sat on the edge of the bed with his back to the door; his 175-centimeter frame still appeared robust beneath his faded work clothes. He was slowly counting a stack of crumpled banknotes, as if performing some kind of ritual.

"Two hundred and eighty-seven, two hundred and eighty-eight..." The rough voice was particularly clear in the quiet room.

Luo Xiyuan's breath hitched for a moment.

This is the scene. A scene that has appeared countless times in her nightmares in her past life: her father finishes counting the not-so-thick stack of banknotes, puts on his coat, pushes open the door and walks into that frozen night in 2008, propelling her and her brother's lives onto a different track.

"Dad." She pushed open the door, her voice so soft it was as if she were afraid of disturbing something.

Luo Xinde turned around, a smile spreading across his square face, the wrinkles at the corners of his eyes deepening: "Xiyuan, have you finished your homework? Go check it for your brother, that kid got a 60 on his math test again yesterday."

"Are you going out?" Luo Xiyuan stared intently at the money in her father's hand.

"Okay, let's go to Uncle Chen's house." Luo Xinde stood up, picked up the faded military green cotton coat from the bedside table, and said, "We only have this much money at home, not enough to buy New Year's goods. Your mother is still working overtime at the factory and won't be back until the day after tomorrow. We can't just eat cabbage and potatoes for the New Year, can we?"

He spoke casually, but when Luo Xiyuan saw her father counting the money, the largest denomination in the stack of banknotes was twenty yuan, and there were also quite a few one- or two-yuan coins.

"You can't go." Luo Xiyuan stepped into the room and blocked the doorway.

Luo Xinde was taken aback for a moment, then laughed out loud: "What's wrong with you today, girl? Dad's just going to borrow some money, I'll be right back."

"We can't go out today." Luo Xiyuan spread her arms and pressed them against the door frame. "The roads outside are icy. The news says this is a once-in-fifty-year ice storm, it's very dangerous."

"What road hasn't your dad walked?" Luo Xinde reached out to ruffle his daughter's hair, but she dodged him. "Move aside, it's getting dark, I have to go early, don't keep your Uncle Chen from resting."

Luo Xiyuan shook her head, her eyes beginning to redden: "No. Uncle Chen's house is across that steep slope at the village entrance, which is covered in ice and very slippery. A motorcycle crashed there this afternoon, you can't go."

Luo Wen arrived at some point, standing barefoot on the cold cement floor, holding half a sweet potato in his hand, staring blankly at his sister.

Luo Xinde's face darkened: "Luo Xiyuan, step aside. This is an adult's concern. What do you, a child, know?"

"I know!" Luo Xiyuan's voice suddenly rose, trembling without her even realizing it. "It's so late, and the roads are so slippery. What will my brother and I do if something happens to you? What will Mom do?"

After he finished speaking, the room fell into a brief silence.

The second hand of the wall clock ticked away, each tick striking a chord in people's hearts.

Luo Xinde's expression shifted from anger to astonishment, and then from astonishment to shock. He stared at his daughter for a long time, as if he were seeing her for the first time.

"What...what nonsense are you talking about?"

"I'm not talking nonsense." Luo Xiyuan's tears finally fell, but her voice was unusually firm. "If you walk out this door today, you'll never come back. Our family doesn't need that five hundred yuan for the New Year. I can go without meat, I can go without new clothes, but nothing can happen to you."

Outside the window, the cold wind howled, whipping up ice pellets that pelted against the glass with a crackling sound.

The old locust tree at the entrance swayed violently in the wind, its branches, covered in ice, colliding with each other and making a cracking sound.

Luo Xinde looked at his daughter, who was usually well-behaved and sensible, but at this moment she was like a mother lion protecting her cubs, blocking the doorway and not retreating an inch.

The fear in her eyes was too real; it wasn't the look of a child throwing a tantrum, but the despair of someone who had already witnessed something.

"Sister..." Luo Wen whispered, as the sweet potato fell to the ground and rolled a few times.

Luo Xinde sighed deeply, clutching the stack of banknotes tightly in his hand. He looked down at the worn-out toes of his shoes, then up at the tears on his daughter's face, and finally, slowly sat back down on the edge of the bed.

"Fine." He threw the money on the bed with a soft thud. "I'm not going. You're right."

Luo Xiyuan's legs went weak, and she slid down the door frame to the ground, her whole body trembling.

Successful.

Father is not dead.

This realization almost made her burst into tears, but she bit her lip tightly, letting the tears silently stream down her face.

Luo Wen glanced at his sister, who was slumped on the ground, then at his father, who was bowing his head in silence. A strange light flashed in his clear black and white eyes. He bent down to pick up the sweet potato from the ground and silently retreated.

In the living room, a TV drama had already started playing, and the cheerful opening theme song created a stark contrast with the quietness of the room.

Dinner was prepared by Luo Xiyuan: stewed cabbage and potatoes with a spoonful of lard, and steamed rice. The three of them ate quietly around the square table, with only the soft clinking of bowls and chopsticks.

After dinner, Luo Xinde took a flashlight to the yard to check the roof tiles, worried they might collapse under the weight of the snow. Luo Xiyuan was washing dishes in the kitchen. As the hot water poured onto her frozen, red hands, she truly felt that she had returned, returned to this poor but complete home, returned to a time before everything had happened.

Luo Wen appeared silently at the kitchen doorway, his bare feet stepping on the cement floor without making a sound.

"sister."

"Hmm?" Luo Xiyuan didn't turn around and continued washing the dishes. The sound of running water masked the tremor in her voice.

"You're not my sister." The nine-year-old boy's voice was eerily calm. "At least, not the sister you knew before today."

The bowl in Luo Xiyuan's hand slipped into the pool, splashing water everywhere.

She slowly turned around and looked at her younger brother, who was a head shorter than her. In the dim light, Luo Wen looked up, his eyes lacking childlike innocence, but possessing an almost sharp clarity.

"My sister has never washed the dishes voluntarily," Luo Wen said slowly, staring intently at her. "You used to cook and I would wash the dishes. And my sister never looks at Dad like that, as if he's going to disappear at any moment."

Luo Xiyuan opened her mouth, but found her throat tight and unable to make a sound.

Outside the window, the wind howled louder, as if something was wailing.

Luo Wen tilted his head back and asked the question that sent a shiver down Luo Xiyuan's spine:

"Who are you? You can't be my current sister, can you? You're from the future, right?"