Reborn Dreams Blossom

In 1994, in a rural village along the eastern coast.

The night rain poured down in torrents, pounding relentlessly against the window, producing a sound so despairing it seemed to swallow all hope.

Wang Qiang stood at the doorway, watching his parents wrestling on the floor. The chaos of their struggle radiated outward; a cabinet had toppled, the mirror lay shattered in seven or eight pieces, powerless and forlorn on the ground—a scene of utter devastation.

How familiar this sight was.

If he remembered correctly, more than twenty years had passed since he last witnessed such a scene.

Wang Qiang’s eyes grew wet as he stared blankly at his parents locked in combat. A profound sense of helplessness welled up within him. He longed to step forward and pull them apart, yet for some reason, his legs felt as if they were filled with lead, too heavy to move.

It had been more than twenty years since this nightmare.

Why must I endure it all again?

He desperately wished everything before him was an illusion, but the pain from his mother’s rubber sandal striking his face was all too real—he was truly back in that wretched era, more than two decades ago.

Poverty is a sickness that seeps deep into the bones.

It drives people mad, strips them of reason, and sometimes even robs them of their fear of death.

His parents’ brawl was born of this very disease.

As a child, Wang Qiang often heard his father recount the story of the family division.

His grandparents had three sons: Wang Qiang’s eldest uncle, his father