Chapter 2: Old Shrimp

“I am a scallion, standing in the wind and rain…”

At this moment, Zhang Tan couldn’t help but feel that his situation was perfectly in harmony with this idiotic phrase.

Tan Mingxia was just as he remembered—his nagging mother, truly fond of nagging. From the moment he woke up, she was at his ear like a hair dryer, and even as they approached the bus station, she hadn’t stopped.

“When you get to Shuangdun High School, study hard. You’re not a child anymore, don’t think you can keep playing. If you don’t study well in high school and can’t get into college, your whole life will be ruined. Shuangdun High School is so far away, your father and I won’t be by your side, so you need to take care of yourself…”

Listening to his mother’s endless words, Zhang Tan, carrying his backpack and dragging his wheeled suitcase, still found it unbelievable—even after a day and night of adjusting.

He had actually returned to his first year of high school.

The dilapidated streets, the old storefronts, and the familiar round minibus ahead—all brought him a unique feeling. This was 2001, fifteen years ago.

“Mom.”

Zhang Tan suddenly stopped, turned around, and smiled at his “young” parents. “I don’t want to study anymore.”

Tan Mingxia was stunned for a moment, then slapped Zhang Tan on the head. “You brat, if you don’t want to study, you might as well die!”

“Let’s talk properly, Mom.” Zhang Tan hurried a few steps, clutching his head. It had been years since his mother hit him. “Alright, I’ll go study then.”

“That’s more like it! Either go to Shuangdun High School and study well, or stay home and repeat a year. Since you haven’t registered yet, you still have a choice.” Tan Mingxia glared at Zhang Tan, growing angrier the more she looked.

Zhang Quanshun stood quietly to the side, carrying a camouflage-patterned bag. Like many fathers who weren’t good at communicating with their children, Zhang Quanshun rarely exchanged words with Zhang Tan. Aside from talking about practical matters, they barely spoke; heart-to-heart conversations were out of the question.

He didn’t understand his father well when he was young, but as he grew older, he realized his father had deep feelings, just too shy to express them.

A nagging mother and a taciturn father.

Zhang Tan felt grateful for this second chance at life. He couldn’t help but step forward and hug his mother. “Mom, don’t worry. Your son has grown up. I’ll work hard, study well, and strive for progress every day.”

When he let go of his stunned mother, he hugged his father, too.

His father was clearly surprised, even a little awkward. Hugging his son was something that had almost never happened in his life.

Actually, Zhang Tan wasn’t used to it either, but at this moment, he really wanted to embrace them.

The hug was brief—barely a touch before breaking away. He took the large bag from his surprised father’s shoulder, slung it onto his own, and waved his thin arms with some effort. “Mom, Dad, take care. I’m off now.”

He tried to act cool, but honestly, the bag was heavy.

Luckily, the minibus was right in front. A few steps, and he climbed aboard. The ticket lady greeted him warmly, helping him stow the large bag and suitcase in the trunk.

“Be careful on the road, don’t fall asleep,” Tan Mingxia called out, finally snapping out of her daze.

“I know.”

Watching her son’s somewhat slender back, Tan Mingxia said uncertainly to Zhang Quanshun, “Have you noticed, he seems a bit different? He wasn’t like this before… I can’t say exactly, but it’s not the same.”

Yangyang was Zhang Tan’s childhood nickname, given by his grandfather—a retired cadre from the commune who loved quoting books and always had the final say at home. On the day Zhang Tan was born, a strong wind blew; on the way to the township clinic, his grandfather recited, “The great wind rises and the clouds fly high,” and so the nickname Yangyang stuck.

Later, when registering his household name, his grandfather wanted him to be called Zhang Feiyang, but thought it sounded too arrogant; names should be modest. At that point, even the usually bold Tan Mingxia had some opinions about her son’s surname. In the end, someone—no one remembered who—suggested blending Zhang Quanshun and Tan Mingxia’s surnames, resulting in his rather odd formal name.

From then on, his official name was Zhang Tan, and his nickname Yangyang.

Zhang Quanshun was also taken aback by his son’s sudden hug, but being somewhat absent-minded, he didn’t notice much change in Zhang Tan. “He’s fifteen now; he should be growing up.”

“I just feel Yangyang is different, I hope he really has matured. He wasted his junior high years; he can’t waste high school, too. If he works hard and gets into a good school, we’ll worry less,” Tan Mingxia muttered softly.

On the other side.

Free from the burden of the heavy bag, Zhang Tan regained some agility and hurried onto the minibus, found a window seat, sat down, opened the window, and waved to his parents. “You should head home.”

“Be careful on the road,” Tan Mingxia repeated.

“Mm.”

She wanted to say more, but as more people boarded—the start of the school term, with parents sending their children—the noise swallowed her words. All she could do was watch her suddenly “grown-up” son from outside the crowd, trying to warn him with her eyes to be careful.

A few minutes later, the minibus slowly pulled away, leaving the parents behind.

Zhang Tan watched his parents disappear around the corner, and breathed out quietly.

The real reason he went along with starting high school again was that he didn’t know how to deal with his “young” parents yet. He hadn’t fully adapted to being a teenager again, and needed some unfamiliar space to process the gap.

After all, he was no longer the naive fifteen-year-old Zhang Tan.

…

The scenery along the way had an air of nostalgia, but Zhang Tan couldn’t really appreciate it.

Traveling from his hometown of Gangji to Shuangdun, both towns under Changfeng County and neighboring each other, there wasn’t a direct route; he had to detour through Hefei City. Gangji sat by National Highway 206 and Hehuai Road, while Shuangdun lay along the county road and Heshui Road. From Gangji, he’d go to Xinya Bus Station, then transfer to Changyun Bus Station, and from there catch the minibus to Shuangdun.

Hefei in 2001 was just beginning its major construction. Roads were broken, being repaired, and hard to traverse.

As a second-tier city, the buses were still few and far between. Unlike the future, when public transport would crisscross everywhere, taxis and black cars would flood the streets, and even subways and light rail would become common.

The bumpy bus was crowded and stuffy.

Zhang Tan couldn’t even sleep, hugging his backpack and sorting through his thoughts. Yesterday, he’d woken up to find himself back on August 31, 2001, and had spent the day adapting to his environment. He hadn’t had time to process his emotions or think about what to do next.

To be honest, he found it hard to believe he would obediently finish three years of high school, study hard, and get into a good university.

He was over thirty now, knew he wasn’t cut out for academics. He never was, not as a child, and even with a second chance, he still wasn’t. At best, he could struggle to get into an average college, and that would be a stroke of luck.

He didn’t think he needed a university degree to win at life anymore.

“Making movies? Not realistic yet… Singing? Seems I’m only amateur level—writing lyrics is okay, but composing is troublesome, I’d have to learn from scratch… Writing novels? I’ve read for over ten years, surely I can write a few books. But right now, online fiction hasn’t really taken off; traditional martial arts and fantasy are still mainstream.”

“Pity I’m just a poor student now. My family has to support me and my sister through school; we’re barely scraping by. If I had money, opening a few internet cafes would be a goldmine. Even if not, doing some small business would make money. This era is the golden decade of China’s economic boom—opportunities everywhere!”

The details of history blurred, but the overall trend surged forward.

“Convincing my parents to borrow money for business will be tough, but if my memory is right, within half a year, Dad will be laid off. The grain depot will be privatized, and all employees will get severance—two or three thousand, I think… Maybe I can talk Dad into using the money to open an internet cafe.”

“‘Legend of Blood’ is about to launch—a Korean game that swept across China, luring countless kids into internet cafes.”

“We’ll just have to wait and see.”

Zhang Tan thought, lacking confidence.

If the details of history hadn’t changed, he’d be planning everything with absolute certainty, but given the circumstances, who knew what twist history might take? What if internet cafes never took off, or ‘Legend of Blood’ vanished?

“For now, the priority is to adapt to being a student, write some novels, send them to publishers, and earn a bit. Having money in hand makes the heart steady.”

Thinking this, Zhang Tan pulled out his cash and counted it again and again.

He had a total of fifteen hundred yuan: eight hundred for tuition, four hundred for accommodation, two hundred for a month’s living expenses, and the remaining hundred yuan—eighty from his grandfather, twenty from selling “old sea shrimp” during summer vacation.

“Old sea shrimp” weren’t actually sea shrimp, but local crayfish with hard red shells, lively and fearless.

These crayfish weren’t large, but they roamed fields, ponds, and ditches, easy to catch and sold for a good price—over one yuan per jin. After scrubbing them clean with a toothbrush, they were deliciously crisp fried. If not fried, the meat could be peeled and cooked into shrimp paste, perfect for eating with two bowls of white rice.

But for now, eating crayfish didn’t seem as popular in Hefei as it would be in the future.

Future Hefei would be known as China’s freshwater crayfish capital, with crayfish cuisine as one of its city signatures.

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Update notice: Before launching, there will be three chapters a day—morning (8 AM), noon (2 PM), and evening (8 PM).