Chapter 1: The Tomb-Sweeping Festival—A Visit to the Graves Turns into Disaster

During the Qingming Festival, the rain falls endlessly—this saying could not be more true. Every year, around Qingming, a gentle drizzle begins. The three members of the Wen family would always brave the rain to climb Yunwu Mountain and pay respects at the graves of their grandfather, grandmother, and mother.

Wen Jun drove, while Wen Yao sat in the car with their father, Wen Changping, chatting away. Wen Yao gestured animatedly as she complained to her brother and father about a novel she’d recently read. Though the rain outside showed no sign of letting up and thunder rumbled faintly, it did nothing to dampen the laughter and cheerful voices within the car.

Suddenly, as they rounded a bend at the mountain’s summit, two foxes dashed out from nowhere, startled and drenched by the rain. Wen Jun, at the wheel, paled and instinctively jerked the steering wheel. But he forgot—their current path was along the winding mountain road of Yunwu Mountain, with a sheer wall on the left and a bottomless cliff on the right. The foxes escaped, but the car, accompanied by the three’s screams, crashed through the guardrail and plunged down the mountainside.

Who knows how much time passed before Wen Yao slowly awoke. Her body felt as if it was pinned beneath a thousand pounds of stone, rendering her unable to move, and even her bones ached. Worst of all, her head throbbed painfully, as unfamiliar memories flooded relentlessly into her mind.

Before she could sort through these inexplicable memories, she opened her eyes to find herself surrounded by a group of people. Their clothes resembled those worn by extras playing common folk in television dramas. Wen Yao was stunned—had the three of them been rescued by some film crew?

Beside her, the other two gradually regained consciousness, equally bewildered by the scene before them. The older man was the first to panic and call out.

“Yao Yao, Xiao Jun!”

Wen Yao’s pupils widened, incredulous as she stared at the man who looked barely over thirty. The young man, too, gazed at him in terror.

“0081,” Wen Yao said, fixing her eyes on the man.

He drew in a sharp breath when he saw Wen Yao, but before he could speak, the young man chimed in, “1752.”

“2216,” the man replied, still seeming unable to believe what he saw.

The three of them stared at each other, eyes wide with disbelief.

They had just recited the last digits of their respective phone numbers. As a family who relied on each other, those numbers were etched into their minds. Yet the situation was baffling—the numbers matched, but the people didn’t look familiar at all. Or, not unfamiliar, exactly; because right before awakening, Wen Yao’s head had been crammed full of strange memories.

Those memories made it abundantly clear—the man who could recite her father’s number was indeed the father from her memories.

Could it be that after falling off the cliff, they had landed in some parallel world?

The onlookers watched the trio in confusion, not understanding what they were saying. At that moment, a voice came from the crowd: “Alright, if they’re fine, everyone can disperse now. Thank you all for your help today.”

Wen Yao followed the voice and saw a spirited, thin old woman standing nearby. Her dark, gaunt face was covered in wrinkles; her hair was neatly combed, her eyes sharp and shrewd. Yet, as she looked at the family of three, there was a hint of disdain in her gaze.

Noticing their attention, the old woman snorted coldly and said, “The house collapsed, but you weren’t crushed—consider yourselves lucky. Since you’re alright, clean up by yourselves. We’re leaving.”

She beckoned to those nearby and prepared to leave.

Only then did the Wen family notice the rubble behind them and the dust covering their bodies.

Were they revived into the bodies of a family crushed to death by a collapsed house?

Before they could figure things out, a small child, about three or four years old, rushed from the old woman’s side and clung tightly to Wen Yao, refusing to let go, his face full of grievance.

The old woman narrowed her eyes, “Big Head, are you coming or not?”

The child pursed his lips and shook his head at the old woman, gripping Wen Yao’s hand even tighter.

Wen Yao recognized him as the brother from her memories, but they were desperate to figure out what was happening. If the little one stayed, it would be hard to talk freely.

With this in mind, Wen Yao crouched down and coaxed softly, “Be good, Big Head. Go home with Grandma for now. Once I’m done cleaning up, I’ll come get you.”

Her words made the child’s eyes flicker. He tilted his head, puzzled and somewhat lost, as if pondering something.

Wen Yao secretly worried—could the little one have noticed something amiss?

In her memories, this younger brother was soft and adorable, always gazing at her with big round eyes. Yet for some reason, though he was nearly four, he still couldn’t speak.

Not wanting to arouse suspicion, Wen Yao quickly took him by the hand and walked to the old woman.

“Grandma, sorry to trouble you. I’ll come get Big Head once I’m done,” Wen Yao kept her head bowed, doing her best to appear as timid as the girl in her memories.

The old woman took Big Head’s hand and replied with a simple “Mm,” then led her group away. Wen Yao finally breathed a sigh of relief, only to look up and catch the little one glancing back, strange and puzzled, every few steps.

It wasn’t until the crowd disappeared that Wen Yao stumbled across the debris to the other two.

“Dad? Brother?”

“Yao Yao? Xiao Jun? How did you turn out like this?” Wen Changping stared at his children, now a decade younger, still unable to believe his eyes.

Wen Jun was equally bewildered. “Dad, Yao Yao, what’s going on?”

Wen Yao scratched her head, turning in circles as she roughly pieced together their current situation.

“We were on our way to pay respects, the car crashed down the mountain, and then we ended up here. Most likely, we’ve arrived in some parallel world, borrowed new bodies,” Wen Yao lowered her voice cautiously.

Her words drew simultaneous gasps from the father and son.

Wen Changping was dumbstruck. “So, are we gone from our original world?”

Wen Yao brushed off the dust from her head and replied, “My brother’s car was brand new, pretty sturdy. Yunwu Mountain is high, but at least we’ll have intact bodies.”

Father and son fell silent.

Wen Jun muttered, “I had a medical conference scheduled for next week.”

Wen Changping sighed, “I’ve paid into my pension for years; only just started receiving retirement pay.”

Wen Yao shrugged, “I’m a freelancer anyway, and now that the whole family’s gone, nothing to fear. Still, with us all gone, who knows what’ll happen to our house and savings.”

Wen Changping considered for a moment. “The house was assigned by the Academy of Agricultural Sciences; they’ll probably take it back. As for the savings, it’ll likely go to your aunt, since she’s our only relative.”