Traveling back to 1952, starting a comeback from a relief station

Early spring of 1952.

Four Nine Cities.

"I've time-traveled?!"

In the corner of the house, Wang Anping sat up on the hay, his gaze sweeping blankly around him, his mind still frantically processing the unfamiliar memories that had suddenly flooded in.

In my past life.

He's a corporate slave who spends all his time buried in bid proposals.

The original owner of this body was a young man from a rural area in another province.

My eldest uncle joined the army in his early years, fighting against the Japanese and Chiang Kai-shek. He was covered in wounds and was resettled after the liberation of Beiping. He was put into the security department of a factory in the city.

My uncle has lived a completely single life.

During the war, I could still occasionally write a letter home.

Once settled in Beiping, he kept thinking about bringing his nephew to the capital, hoping he would have a bright future.

Unfortunately, the original owner was very introverted.

During the years of war, my family members died one by one, leaving only my father, who was bedridden.

A year ago, her father also passed away, leaving the original owner completely alone.

A little over ten days ago, he received another letter from his uncle.

The handwriting in this letter was crooked and messy. He said that his old injury had relapsed and he was afraid that he would not survive the spring. He urged him to go north as soon as possible.

This time, with no ties left, the original owner sold off the family's worthless belongings, used the money to buy a train ticket, and traveled a bumpy journey to Beiping.

It was right after the Spring Festival, still in the first month of the lunar calendar, and the weather was freezing cold.

The original owner had never traveled far from home and knew nothing about the weather in the north. He caught a chill on the way, and coupled with years of malnutrition, his body was already weak, and he fell ill and never recovered.

Last night, I had a persistent high fever, and then I couldn't catch my breath and just passed away.

Let Wang Anping, who died suddenly, travel through time.

"I never want to be a corporate slave again in my life!"

"This is... a rescue station?"

With a shout in his heart, Wang Ping'an began to survey his surroundings.

On the mottled wall, several eye-catching slogans were painted in red: "Practice thrift and oppose waste!" "Strive for production and support national construction!" "Work hard to get rich and build a new China!"

These words, bearing the distinct mark of their time, instantly confirmed to him that he was in 1952.

Wang Anping didn't feel much about it. In his previous life, he was born in the 80s, and he could still see many similar slogans on the walls of his hometown when he was a child.

What he cares more about is whether the perks that are standard for time travelers actually exist.

As soon as the thought crossed his mind, he noticed a strange space appearing in his mind—a grassy area about the size of three or four football fields, with sparse shrubs growing along the edges and occasionally a small tree as thick as an arm sprouting out.

The very center of the space.

A clear spring gushed forth, accumulating in a low-lying area to form a pond more than ten meters in diameter, the water so clear you could see the bottom.

Wang Anping's heart stirred, and he quietly touched the old cotton-padded coat he was wearing, which was covered in patches.

A cloth bag was sewn into the inner pocket of the underwear.

Seeing that no one was paying attention to him, he quickly took out the cloth bag and opened it.

Inside were a household registration booklet, a letter of introduction from the village, a stack of letters sent by my uncle, and a stack of carefully smoothed banknotes. I counted them; it totaled 52 yuan and 7 mao.

(Note: At this time, the first set of RMB was still in circulation, and the actual face value should be 527,000 yuan. This has been simplified for the sake of clarity.)

Wang Anping tried to use his mind, and the contents of the cloth bag instantly disappeared, appearing in the space of his mind.

Good guy.

This system space is practically a mobile safe!

After checking his belongings, Wang Anping stood up, leaning on the dry grass, and a commotion of voices immediately arose around him.

This is a relief station in Beijing.

Not long after the founding of the People's Republic of China, while the city was still purging enemy agents and remnants of Chiang Kai-shek, many people flocked to the capital from outside the city. Some came with a long-term vision to make a living, some went to stay with relatives, and some couldn't make a living in their hometowns and wanted to try their luck in the capital. These people were called "blind migrants" at the time.

The shelter was set up to house these people.

This place was originally an abandoned warehouse, but it has now been temporarily requisitioned.

Several glowing red-hot stoves were placed in the large warehouse, barely dispelling the chill, and a thick layer of dry straw was laid on the ground.

With over three hundred people crammed together, plus the heat from the stove, the temperature inside could reach over ten degrees Celsius at night, so they wouldn't freeze to death.

Wang Anping moved his hands and feet and felt full of energy, no longer showing the sickly and listless state of the original owner.

It has clearly been quietly modified by the system.

At the foot of the wall outside the shelter, there were several long tables piled with pots, pans and bowls.

There were two coal-fired stoves next to it, and on one of the stoves was a large iron pot with a diameter of more than a meter. The water in the pot was boiling and steaming.

Several people were busy around the stove; they were probably staff members of the rescue station.

Some people were squatting in front of a large basin, mixing in various coarse grains, sprinkling in some salt, adding warm water, and kneading the dough vigorously; others were deftly scrubbing porcelain basins; and still others were busy cleaning a pile of mud-covered radishes.

The conditions at the shelter were very basic; forget about three meals a day, they usually only provided one meal each at noon and evening.

Right now, everyone is busy preparing breakfast.

Wang Ping'an watched for a moment from the side.

Suddenly, a crisp system notification sounded in my mind:

[Ding dong, cooking proficiency +1, cooking level: Home-style (366/1000)]

(Home-style level: Proficient in home-style stir-frying, able to handle common meats, and able to make simple sauces.)

Wang Ping'an was taken aback.

He originally thought that the storage space was his entire transmigration gift package, but he didn't expect there to be an extra surprise.

This level of culinary skill clearly didn't appear out of thin air.

In his previous life, he was a corporate slave. When he got tired of takeout, he started cooking for himself and became skilled at making home-style dishes. As for the original owner, he took care of his seriously ill father for many years and then lived alone for a year, so cooking was a regular part of his life.

The system directly integrates the two people's backgrounds together.

It was even quantified into levels.

Cooking skills can be improved... So the system wants me to become a chef?

In this era of scarcity, being a cook was indeed a desirable profession; at least you wouldn't go hungry.

But Wang Anping was a little unhappy.

I was already exhausted from working overtime every night in my past life. Now that I have a system, do I still have to spend all my time around the stove?

That's so frustrating!

With that kind of time, there are so many other things you could do.

But on second thought, it's always a good thing to improve my cooking skills. Even if it's not for making a living, I shouldn't miss this opportunity just to eat comfortably.

I just stood by and watched, and I still gained proficiency. If I did the work myself, wouldn't my proficiency increase even faster?

With that thought in mind, Wang Anping no longer hesitated and stepped forward.

"Xiao Zhou, bring two more buckets of water. There's a lot of mud on this batch of radishes today."

"Old Zhao, add some more soybean flour to the noodles. It'll make it more filling and nutritious! Zhang's Grain Store just donated fifty catties of soybean flour yesterday..."

A woman in her forties was standing by the stove, loudly making arrangements; she was clearly in charge.

Wang Anping walked over to the person who was engrossed in washing radishes, squatted down, and said with a smile:

"Sis, let me help you wash."

Although I want to lie down and be lazy for the rest of my life, I need to create the conditions for being lazy first, right?

Washing radishes is a cold and tiring job, requiring little skill, so I doubt the other party will worry that I'm just here to cause trouble.

The woman washing the radishes was in her early thirties.

She had a neat, short, ear-length haircut.

Her hands were soaking in the icy water, turning bright red from the cold, and she kept breathing on them to warm them up.

Hearing the voice, she looked up and saw a tall, clean-cut young man squatting beside her with a sincere look in his eyes. After hesitating for a moment, she nodded.

"Alright, let's lend a hand."

As she spoke, she scooped a stiff-bristled brush from the bucket beside her and handed it to Wang Anping:

Here, take this.

"If the mud is sticky, brush it off a few more times. Otherwise, if you put it directly into the pot to cook, your mouth will be full of mud and sand, which is disgusting."

The woman's name is Sun Hui, and she is a long-time employee of the rescue station.

Even doing this kind of work every day can't withstand the torment of cold water. After washing two radishes, I have to quickly pull my hands out and rub them with my mouth to warm them up.

She glanced at the young man beside her, a little apprehensive, wondering if he could handle it.

To Sun Hui's surprise, the young man worked exceptionally quickly.

The radishes were all soaking in water.

He grabbed a radish in each hand, rubbed it vigorously with his five fingers, and most of the mud on the surface of the radish came off. Then he picked up a brush and quickly brushed the muddy areas a few times. Finally, he rinsed it in clean water, and a clean radish was ready. He then casually tossed it into the empty basin next to him.

The movements were executed in one smooth, quick, and efficient motion.

Sun Hui's eyes lit up, and she couldn't help but praise:

"Young man, you're quite quick!"