With three superpowers at his fingertips, he could dominate the 1970s.

Jiang Zhiyu left the space and returned to her hotel room.

It was already afternoon outside the window, and the streets of Tokyo were still bustling, but it had nothing to do with her anymore.

She didn't plan to stay in the small town any longer.

She packed her things—actually, there wasn't much to pack; she came with a crossbody bag, and she left with the same crossbody bag. She knocked on the door across the hall.

Yin Panqing opened the door and saw her carrying a bag, and was slightly taken aback: "Miss, are you going out?"

"I'm going back to China."

"Back...back to China?" Yin Panqing was clearly taken aback by this sudden turn of events. "But the shipping schedule—"

"I've made other arrangements." Jiang Zhiyu pulled a wad of cash from her pocket and handed it over. "You can arrange your own days from now on. Go sightseeing if you want, go back if you want. There's enough for the return trip and accommodation in the port city, no need to skimp."

Yin Panqing hesitated for a moment but still accepted the money. She opened her mouth as if to say something, but in the end, she just nodded and said, "Take care, Miss."

"The same to you."

Jiang Zhiyu turned and left without looking back.

At the dock. Instead of going through the proper channels, she casually rented a fishing boat at the port, paid half a day's rent, and set sail.

The fishing boat was small, its diesel engine churning, leaving a white trail of waves in its wake. She didn't know how to drive, but Seventeen knew how to scan—after a few simple steps, the boat wobbled away from the harbor.

As they drifted further and further away from land, with only the boundless sea in sight, she turned off the engine and let the small boat drift on the waves.

Then I sat at the bow of the boat and waited for it to get dark.

The sunset at sea was beautiful; the sky was ablaze with orange-red, and the sea shimmered with golden light.

As darkness fell, she entered the space, activated the helicopter, and took off, then exited the space directly, flying towards Shanghai.

The plane's lights were off throughout the entire flight. Seventeen was responsible for navigation and avoiding commercial airliners on the route, while Jiang Zhiyu simply held the control stick and pushed it forward.

The distance from Xiao Rizi to Shanghai is not far as the crow flies. The helicopter flew at full speed for several hours, and the sky was already beginning to lighten.

She landed in a secluded suburb, stored the helicopter in her spatial storage, and took a deep breath.

Got home.

Stepping onto familiar ground, the sense of security finally eased the tension she had been feeling for days.

She randomly picked a roadside stall and ate breakfast, then stood by the roadside and thought for a moment.

go home?

I'll think about it and decide against it. If I go back now, my parents will start bombarding me with questions the moment they see me looking so travel-worn.

She turned around and went to the train station, where she bought a ticket to Dachengshan.

I slept the whole train journey.

When she set foot on the land of Dacheng Mountain again, she was stunned by the scene before her.

The title of "infrastructure maniac" is truly well-deserved.

Not long after the earthquake, the place was completely different from when she left. The ruins were gone, replaced by rows upon rows of resettlement tents, neatly arranged with wide passageways between them. Further away, newly built brick houses were taking shape, with scaffolding erected densely and workers busily working on them.

The numbness and exhaustion of surviving a disaster were no longer visible on people's faces; instead, smiles gradually appeared on their faces—smiles of hope for the future.

Jiang Zhiyu looked around, but didn't linger. She avoided the crowd and went straight to her tent.

There was no one in the tent. She gently placed Xu Yunzi and Xiangtai on the cot.

Both were still asleep. Thanks to the effects of the spiritual spring water, Xu Yunzi's complexion was slightly better than yesterday, but he was still alarmingly thin. Xiangtai, on the other hand, was in better condition.

She stood by the bed for a few seconds, then turned and left the tent to find Zhuge Yunhe.

Zhuge Yunhe was reviewing documents in the makeshift command post.

Hearing footsteps, he looked up and saw the person standing at the door, his eyes wide with shock.

"You're back?"

He counted on his fingers, then on—from the time Jiang Zhiyu left for her new life until today, it had only been about ten days. Ten days and she was back?

"You—" He was about to ask something when Jiang Zhiyu spoke up, "Director Zhuge, come with me for a moment."

Her tone didn't sound like she was reporting on work; it sounded more like she had something to show him.

Zhuge Yunhe followed her out of the command post and all the way to the tent area. Jiang Zhiyu didn't say anything, but directly lifted the tent flap and stepped aside to let him go in first.

Zhuge Yunhe stepped into the tent, his gaze falling on the cot—

He froze completely.

There were two people lying on the bed.

A child of about three years old, with round cheeks, was sleeping soundly.

another--

An old man, withered and emaciated, had his gray hair spread out on the pillow. His cheekbones were high and his eyes were sunken. Although he had changed his clothes, they could not hide his body, which was almost nothing but bones.

Zhuge Yunhe's hands began to tremble.

His lips trembled, his fingers trembled, even his beard quivered. He took a step forward, then stopped, afraid of waking the person in bed, or afraid that he had misread the situation.

He wasn't sure.

The old man lying in bed bore almost no resemblance to the spirited senior brother he remembered. Yet, he knew—that essence was still there. Even after thirty years of imprisonment, even after being tortured into this state, that ingrained spirit remained.

"Senior brother..." His voice was squeezed out from his throat, so hoarse that it was almost inaudible.

Jiang Zhiyu didn't say anything, but stepped forward, took out a bottle, and dripped a drop of spiritual spring water into each of their mouths.

Zhuge Yunhe didn't ask what it was. He didn't need to ask.

Shota woke up first.

Children recover quickly. As soon as the spring water entered his throat, his eyelids twitched, and then he suddenly opened them wide—the unfamiliar environment, the unfamiliar smell, the unfamiliar ceiling, his first reaction was to burst into tears.

Jiang Zhiyu walked over and picked him up, gently patting his back with one hand, while taking out a few snacks and a set of small building blocks from her spatial storage with the other and placing them in front of him.

When Shota saw the food and toys, his crying immediately subsided. He grabbed a piece of pastry and put it in his mouth, his eyes still wet with tears, but his mouth was already moving. Three-year-olds have quick attention spans; after a few bites, he stopped crying and reached for the set of building blocks.

Xu Yunzi also woke up.

He slowly opened his eyes, his gaze somewhat unfocused; he hadn't quite figured out where he was. Then his gaze gradually focused, landing on the person in front of him.

An equally aged old man, with gray hair and a gaunt face, was standing by the bed looking at him, trembling all over.

Xu Yunzi's dry eyes slowly moistened.

"Yunhe..."

Zhuge Yunhe grabbed his hand.

He looked down at the hands—thin as a withered branch, bony and bony, the backs of the hands covered with old wounds and brown scabs, and traces of rust still lingering under the fingernails.

His eyes immediately welled up with tears.

His vision blurred. The withered hands became increasingly indistinct in his eyes. He raised his hand to wipe away his tears, looked again, but still couldn't see them clearly.

He didn't know what his senior brother had gone through. But from these hands, from this body, he could imagine what kind of torture a person who refused to submit would endure in the hands of such a cruel people.

After all, his senior brother had thwarted their plan from back then, so how could those people let him off so easily? Zhuge Yunhe gripped those withered hands tightly, as if afraid that if he let go, he would be gone again.

Xu Yunzi also gripped his hand in return, his strength weak but his intention earnest.

The two of them stared at each other, neither speaking. Thirty years of separation, thirty years of waiting, thirty years of suffering—all were contained in that single grasp of their hands.

Jiang Zhiyu did not disturb them.

She turned and went to the kitchen, where she found some food—steamed buns, congee, and a few side dishes—simple but warm. She carried the tray back to the tent and placed it on the small table next to the cot.

"Let him eat something first."

Zhuge Yunhe then realized what was happening and slowly helped Xu Yunzi sit up.

Xu Yunzi looked at the breakfast laid out in front of him, and his eyes welled up with tears again.

Steaming white porridge, thin and translucent xiaolongbao skins, and refreshing pickled vegetables on a plate.

how many years.

He finally set foot on this land again and saw the familiar breakfast. In that dark and sunless dungeon, the only thing that could be considered food was sushi—in the first few years, the rice balls and cheese she brought were still edible, but it got worse and worse over time, basically just enough to keep him alive.

He shakily reached out, picked up a small steamed bun, and slowly put it into his mouth.

With its thin skin and fresh filling, one bite releases a burst of flavorful broth on the tongue.

This is the taste of thirty years.

Shota was also fed a small steamed bun. The little guy probably had never eaten such a thing before, and he chewed it with relish, holding the bun in both hands, his cheeks bulging, and his eyes sparkling.

Jiang Zhiyu glanced at him, then took out another piece of cake from her spatial storage and stuffed it into his mouth, so that he wouldn't go hungry.

Zhuge Yunhe helped Xu Yunzi eat slowly, chewing each bite carefully, as if he were trying to make up for the thirty years of emptiness bit by bit.

Seeing that they seemed to have more to say, Jiang Zhiyu got up, lifted the curtain, and went out.

The tent was left to them.

Sunlight streamed down from overhead, illuminating the tent roofs in the resettlement area, creating a blinding white glow. In the distance, the sounds of hammering and clanging from the construction site, along with children's laughter, drifted over.

She leaned against the outside of the tent and looked up at the sky.

The person that Old Zhuge had waited for for thirty years was finally brought back by her.