Returning to 1949, I decided to hand it over to the state.

How could Jiang Fan know whether his father, "Tiezhu," was a good person or not?

But the words were already on the tip of his tongue, and Jiang Daiji just squatted down and waited.

His gaze was filled with obvious concern, revealing a genuine worry, and it didn't seem like a casual polite remark at all.

Jiang Fan could only pick up the porcelain bowl in his hand, tactically take a big gulp of water, and use the time it took to swallow to suppress his emotions. Then he put down the bowl and put on a smile that he tried to appear as natural as possible.

"It's fine, it's fine. Thank you for your concern, Uncle Jiang."

That sounds rather unconvincing.

But right now, there's no other way but to grit your teeth and pretend to be something you're not.

Originally, Jiang Fan thought that after this conversation, Jiang Daiji would just say a few polite words like "That's good, it's not easy being away from home," and then everyone would get up and go about their own business.

That matter was thus smoothed over.

To be on the safe side, he had already prepared several sets of responses in his mind to deal with the subsequent small talk, ready to deal with whatever came his way.

But Jiang Daiji did not get up. Instead, he sat down on the slightly lower stone embankment next to him.

"Tiger."

He spoke, but his tone suddenly slowed down.

"How old are you this year?"

Jiang Fan was suddenly startled.

Why are you asking this?

Checking household registration?

Or did I say something wrong that aroused suspicion?

Alarm bells were ringing in his head, but on the surface he still answered honestly, and deliberately used a phrase with a slight northern accent:

"This year... we're eating on the 23rd. What's wrong, Uncle Jiang?"

Jiang Daiji listened and nodded, but did not ask about the details of his age. Instead, he talked about some seemingly unrelated things, but they were full of nostalgia.

"Twenty-three... Time really flies."

He turned to look outside the workshop, his gaze somewhat distant.

"Uncle Jiang still remembers all those things about your family very clearly."

Jiang Fan held the bowl in the same position, without even shaking his fingers, but his ears involuntarily tensed up.

Is this a way of getting to the bottom of things?

Are you planning to test me with details from the past?

Jiang Fan instantly tensed up.

But Jiang Daiji didn't turn to look at him; he just continued speaking slowly and deliberately.

"Your father and I both came from Shandong. We share the same surname, so we're considered family. But your father is from Laizhou Prefecture, and I'm from Dengzhou Prefecture."

"Back in our hometown, the two places aren't too far apart, but if we both stay in the interior and don't go to the Northeast, we probably won't have a chance to meet in this lifetime."

"Back then... it was fifteen years ago."

Jiang Fan's eyes darted around slightly.

Was it the fifteenth year of the Republic of China? Or 1915?

Just as I was pondering this, I heard Jiang Daiji continue:

"Back then, life in Shandong was really unbearable. The dry land was cracked, and the crops we planted couldn't be harvested at all. There was no food at home, and people were starving to death."

"By the end of the year, there was really no other way, so I had to take my family and follow the crowd to the outside of the Great Wall. Your father had already settled in Harbin by then, and I heard that he could find work there."

"I thought I should go and seek refuge with him first. For us Shandong people, relying on a fellow villager when we're away from home is nothing to be ashamed of."

As Jiang Fan listened, he nodded silently to himself.

That is indeed true.

Around 1926, Shandong was indeed plagued by disasters. Drought, floods, and locust plagues came one after another, coupled with warlord infighting. The people were forced to flee beyond the Great Wall with their families.

This was one of the most spectacular large-scale population migrations in modern Chinese history – the migration to Northeast China.

Even his own grandfather once casually mentioned that his ancestors had fled famine from Shandong and eventually settled in the Anshan area.

It's true that many people from Shandong have left their hometowns, so it's perfectly normal for them to help each other.

However, what exactly did Jiang Daiji mean by telling him all these trivial and old stories?

Is it simply a matter of reminiscing about past hardships and appreciating present happiness?

Jiang Daiji did not stop and continued speaking:

"Your dad is a kind and honest man. When we first arrived in Harbin, we were completely clueless and couldn't even find a place to stay."

"Without saying a word, your father made a point of clearing out a room in his own house for our family to squeeze in, and he made sure to give us the best food and drink."

"Actually, he was struggling to make ends meet back then and didn't earn much money, but he never said a single bad word to me."

At this point, Jiang Daiji's voice carried a clear hint of gratitude.

"Later, he also helped us find land to farm and taught me to read. In the first few years in Northeast China, your father helped us a lot."

"Back then, you were only a few months old, five or six months? I can't quite remember, but you couldn't walk yet. Your mother was holding you on the kang (a heated brick bed), and I was bringing your family a basket of potatoes. You were smiling at me, even though your two front teeth hadn't fully grown in yet."

"I never imagined you'd grow up so fast."

Jiang Daiji's voice was full of emotion, and his gaze was fixed on the sky outside the workshop. Clearly, the brother named "Tiezhu" had indeed shown his family a very deep kindness.

However, as Jiang Fan sat there holding the bowl, the smile on his face gradually faded.

wrong.

The story Jiang Daiji told... why does it sound so familiar?

He sought refuge there in 1926?

Settling down in Harbin?

Then we'll try to make a living together in Northeast China?

He clearly remembered that his grandfather had told him about the Chiang family history more than once when he was alive.

It is said that the Chiang family originally fled famine from Laizhou Prefecture in Shandong and came to Northeast China.

At that time, Jiang Fan was still young and often didn't eat properly, so his grandfather would always use his great-grandfather's deeds to educate him.

"Those were tough times. We couldn't even gnaw on tree bark. Your great-grandfather was tough; he managed to carve out a way to survive in the Northeast, which is how our family came to be."

Having heard these phrases since childhood, Jiang Fan has a deep impression of Laizhou Prefecture and the Northeast.

However, he always thought it was just a story of hardship that the older generation made up to trick him into eating a few more bites of food. He never took it seriously, nor did he ever ask what his great-grandfather, who had such a tough life, was actually called. He treated it as just a vague family symbol.

But now, he was hearing a story with almost the exact same plot from a middle-aged man named Jiang Daiji!

The impact was like being hit by a heavy hammer.

An absurd thought suddenly popped into my head.

Is it...

Jiang Daiji was my grandfather's father.

He's my great-grandfather?!

No way? It can't be that dramatic, can it?

Not only did I travel back in time to Anshan Iron and Steel Company in 1949, but I also found myself sitting face-to-face with my great-grandfather, drinking water?!

No, not necessarily.

Jiang Fan tried his best to calm himself down.

There were countless Shandong people who ventured to Northeast China. Among the millions of people who migrated there, there were definitely many who shared the same name and had similar experiences.

Stories of fellow villagers helping each other were common in those days; we shouldn't scare ourselves based on that alone.

He forcibly suppressed the turmoil of shock churning within him, gripped the bowl in his hand, and tried to make his voice sound as steady as possible as he tentatively asked:

"And then, Uncle Jiang? What happened next?"

Jiang Fan didn't really want to know what dramatic events unfolded afterward.

He just needs more information.

He needed details to fully confirm the absurd conjecture in his mind.