Su Niannian followed her grandmother home, walking carefully, terrified that one wrong word might expose her. She simply kept her head down and stayed silent.
Grandmother seemed to assume she was still frightened and kept muttering anxiously, but didn’t ask questions.
Deep inside the alley stood an old shikumen house.
The heavy black wooden door creaked when pushed open. Rows of clothes hung in the courtyard, swaying lightly in the wind.
The wooden threshold had been polished smooth from years of wear, its mottled surface carrying a sense of history.
The house wasn’t shabby. Compared to the neighbors who squeezed entire families into single rooms, this place was spacious.
In the main hall sat a square table with two grand armchairs flanking it. Porcelain vases and an alarm clock were neatly arranged on the cabinet. A pendulum clock hung on the wall, its steady tick-tock echoing through the quiet room.
The floor shone from careful scrubbing, revealing pride and propriety.
The moment Niannian entered, her gaze was drawn to a framed photograph on the cabinet.
The photo showed a young woman holding her—smiling brightly, eyes soft and full of warmth, her entire presence radiant.
Niannian’s heart skipped hard.
That face… why did it look so familiar?
Grandmother approached with a warm cup of water, sighing as she handed it over. “If not for that soldier boy today, how would I ever face your parents?”
She shook her head and kept rambling. “You’re only in first grade this year. Your mother wanted to send you to a school in Xuhui District, close to where they live.”
“But how can Xuhui compare to Jing’an? I talked them into letting you stay with us. And yet school has barely started and already something like this happens. If you’d really gotten hurt, Grandma wouldn’t survive the fright.”
Her voice dropped as she added helplessly, “Especially your mother… she’s not someone easy to deal with.”
The woman in the photo—her smile, her eyes… the more Niannian looked, the more familiar she seemed.
Then a name flashed like lightning across her mind.
Su Minzhi.
Holy crap.
Niannian nearly dropped the cup.
She froze, eyes wide, her heart seizing with shock.
She… she had actually become the richest woman’s daughter!
Her gaze drifted to the paper calendar hanging behind the door. Something clicked in her mind and she hurried over.
The calendar had a red background with gold lettering, advertising the “Shanghai Food Factory.” Each date block was clear and crisp.
One line of text made her stiffen completely.
September, 1985.
“What the—” she muttered, breath catching.
This wasn’t a dream. She had truly—literally—traveled back to 1985.
Wait. That meant Su Minzhi wasn’t yet the aloof, silent Forbes-listed billionaire.
Right now she was just an ordinary government employee?
Niannian racked her memory. Yes—this was when Su Minzhi still worked at the Foreign Trade Commission, years before she quit to start her own company.
Her thoughts spun chaotically.
Then the memory of the interview surfaced—
Under the studio lights, Su Minzhi’s cool expression couldn’t hide her sorrow:
“When my daughter was seven, she was bitten by a dog… she didn’t receive timely treatment… and passed away. It’s my lifelong regret.”
Seven years old.
She herself was in first grade—probably seven.
And moments ago in the alley, she had almost been attacked by that yellow dog.
If that soldier hadn’t appeared…
“No way…” A chill swept up her spine, palms turning cold.
Had she… rewritten history?
Was she the “daughter who died”?
And that dog attack—was that the moment she was supposed to die?
Her heartbeat thundered. She stared at the calendar, breath unsteady.
Just then, the courtyard gate creaked open.
Niannian quickly peeked out the window.
A woman in her early thirties entered, holding the hand of an eight- or nine-year-old boy. The woman wore a faded light-gray blouse and carried a bulging canvas bag. She looked around nervously, clearly uneasy.
The boy, however, scanned the courtyard with sharp, restless eyes.
Suddenly, he fixed his gaze on Niannian—and glared fiercely.
Niannian flinched. A cold prickle crept down her spine.
What was wrong with this kid? She hadn’t even done anything to him.
Grandmother hurried out, her voice tight with unease. “Who are you here to see?”
The woman forced a strained smile. “I’m looking for Fang Yuming. Does he live here?”
“This is Fang Yuming’s home.” Grandmother’s expression darkened. “What business do you have with him?”
Niannian’s heart jolted.
Fang Yuming?
Wasn’t that Su Minzhi’s ex-husband?
Then her current identity must be… Fang Niannian.
The air grew tense.
The woman bit her lip. “Is Yuming home?”
“He’s at work,” Grandmother answered coldly. “I’m his mother. If you need something, say it.”
The woman hesitated, then whispered, “I… I met Yuming in Pengcheng.”
She glanced at the boy. “We came on the morning train. Could we have a drink of water inside?”
The moment “Pengcheng” left her mouth, Grandmother’s expression snapped rigid. Her face drained of color, panic flashing in her eyes—as though an old wound had been ripped open.
Her voice trembled. “What… what’s your name?”
The woman lifted her chin, as if making a decision.
“Liu Xianglan.”
The three syllables struck like a stone dropped into still water.
Grandmother’s face turned chalk-white. Her gaze flickered with fear and something like guilt.
She instinctively glanced toward Niannian—an inexplicable, complicated look.
Then she snapped, voice sharp and urgent, “You. Come outside. We need to talk.”
Liu Xianglan stiffened, but nodded, pulling the boy along. “Let’s go.”
The door slammed shut behind them with a heavy bang, the echo shuddering through the quiet house.
Niannian gripped the hem of her shirt and leaned toward the window, but the three of them were already gone.
Her heart tightened like a fist.
Who exactly was Liu Xianglan?
Why did Grandmother react with such fear?
And that boy—why had he glared at her with such hostility?
Questions pressed down on her like stones. Her pulse raced.
Her instincts screamed that this mother and son had not come here by chance.
The more she thought, the more uneasy she felt.