September 20, 1948, around 5:45 PM (You hour, third quarter)

Standing behind a bramble bush on the edge of a cliff, Fang Dahai was shivering from the cold, but he couldn’t care less about that right now. His mind was consumed by just one question: Why did he time-travel again!!!

Yes, this wasn’t Fang Dahai’s first time traveling through time. He remembered his original life… Well, there wasn’t much to miss about it anyway—he was in his thirties, an aging bachelor who scraped by delivering packages. He rented his place, his only vehicle was a small electric scooter, and besides the convenience of modern life, there really wasn’t anything worth reminiscing over.

But who could’ve imagined that a small fry at the bottom of society would have such an incredible experience? One random fall and bang—he woke up in the Ming Dynasty! And not just that, he had become a member of a prestigious Jinyiwei family branch… and even served as a secret agent!! That was just too…

Every novel says that if you time-travel and don’t stir things up, it’s a wasted opportunity. He used to think that way too. But when it really happened… he was terrified. Other than having a great sense of direction, he had no useful skills, and he ended up on the most dangerous, poverty-stricken frontier. One wrong move and he’d be dead before even getting his bearings! So, forget causing trouble—his only goal became: survive.

Unfortunately, a small man can’t stand against the tide of an era. During the Three Great Campaigns of the Wanli period, even though he worked tirelessly to learn every skill he could, constantly on edge trying to stay alive… he still died.

Six years after he arrived, Mongol raiders invaded the border!

The moment the arrow pierced his chest, he thought it was truly the end. But then—blink, and he was alive again!! What kind of bizarre plotline was this? Did he die the wrong way? Had he triggered some “infinite reincarnation” scenario? Or was he some guinea pig in a time-travel experiment? Ugh, reading too many web novels clearly had side effects. Just thinking casually, he could come up with multiple plotlines—it was enough to make his heart race!

Fang Dahai rubbed his face hard with both hands, trying to calm himself. Once his emotions settled a little, he quickly focused and tried to recall the circumstances of this new body.

People say if you puke enough, you’ll get used to it—well, dying over and over should be no big deal then, right? At least he got to live again. Even though his last bonus life was a bit short… still, a man should be content.

Fang Dahai kept comforting himself as he started thinking things through.

But then another problem appeared… What was that shiny thing flashing in the bramble in front of him? It was round and smooth, gleaming conspicuously in the dim light.

Was that a button in the center? A dial on the side? Could this be a time-travel bonus? A golden finger (cheat)?

Instinctively, Fang Dahai reached out and pressed the center of the round thing.

“Dear user, you haven’t done any labor today. With 0 points, the wheel cannot be activated. Please work hard and come back next time.”

Points? Labor? He got it—work to earn points, then use those points to spin the wheel, right? This was familiar; tons of novels had this setup. Thank heavens, finally a golden finger! Okay, it’s not the kind that lets you win by doing nothing, but it’s better than nothing. This time, he was going to live way better than last time.

Wait… wasn’t he forgetting something? He searched the memories in his brain…

“Brother, brother, are those people gone?”

Ah, right—he forgot who he was now, and the time and place he was currently in.

At present, he was a villager from Dongshan Village, Changping County, north of Beijing. His mother had died of illness last year, and his father had just been shot yesterday while protecting his children from the pillaging retreat of the Kuomintang’s defeated troops. He had collapsed in the village, and whether he was dead or alive was still unknown. As for the voice that had called him just now…

Fang Dahai turned and looked at a few children crawling out from a small cave in the mountain wall behind him, silently confirming their identities.

The boy in front was his 10-year-old biological brother, Fang Dajiang. Following him was his 12-year-old child fiancée, He Yulan. And finally, at the back—currently being carefully dusted off and half-embraced by He Yulan—was his youngest sister, 4-year-old Fang Xiangcao.

Oh, and himself—he was still called Fang Dahai, same as in his two previous lives, but now his age had shrunk to 14. As for all four of them, they were all skinny and sallow-faced—clear signs of long-term malnutrition. This starting point… might actually be worse than when he ended up in the Ming Dynasty!!!

“Brother, what are you looking at?”

Fang Dajiang noticed something was off with his older brother. He wasn’t responding to questions and just kept staring at them. Had something gotten stuck to them while climbing out of the cave?

As he spoke, Fang Dajiang carefully examined his clothes. Their home had already been looted by retreating soldiers once—who knew what had gone missing. The clothes on their backs had to be treasured now.

By this point, Fang Dahai had fully absorbed the leftover memories of this body and understood the current situation. With a previous time-travel experience under his belt, he adapted quickly and knew exactly what he needed to do now.

“Keep your voice down! What if those soldiers came up the mountain? You want to alert them?”

Hearing this, Fang Dajiang quickly covered his mouth, then cautiously looked around, ears perked as he listened carefully. After confirming there were no signs of danger, he lowered his voice and asked again:

“Brother, can we go down the mountain now? Dad…”

At the mention of their father, Fang Dajiang’s eyes, already reddened, began to brim with tears again. Behind him, He Yulan turned her head away, and Fang Xiangcao pursed her lips so tightly she nearly burst into tears.

Thinking of the man who used his life to protect the children, Fang Dahai also felt a pang in his heart. Though he was no stranger to life and death, and had even gone through it himself, such a sacrifice still tugged painfully at him.

He looked back down at the village. Seeing that the fire hadn’t spread and some smoke even seemed to be dying down, Fang Dahai lowered his eyes in thought. Then he turned to Fang Dajiang and said:

“Here’s the plan. You stay here and protect Sister Lan and Xiangcao. I’ll go down and check things out.”

Fang Dahai going down the mountain? The children immediately panicked. Their father’s fate was already uncertain—if their big brother also got into trouble, what would they do? That looming fear of losing another protector drove all three to rush over and grab onto Fang Dahai’s clothes.

“Brother, don’t go—I’m scared.”

“Big Brother, I’m scared.”

Fang Dajiang at least remembered to keep his voice low, but Fang Xiangcao couldn’t care less. Crying, she clung tightly to Fang Dahai’s leg, sobbing repeatedly about how scared she was. Their pitiful appearance made He Yulan feel awful. Gritting her teeth, she softly offered her own suggestion.

“Brother Dahai, let me go. I’m just a girl—if something happens to me, it’s not as serious. But you still have to take care of Dajiang and Xiangcao.”

“Don’t be ridiculous. If you get caught, it’s a death sentence. Don’t worry—I know what I’m doing. I won’t get close unless I’m sure it’s safe.”

He Yulan’s willingness to step forward reminded Fang Dahai of her background.

Their families were both from Henan, though they hadn’t been close. But in 1942, they fled toward Beijing during a famine and got to know each other on the road. They decided to travel together.

Halfway there, they ran into a military squad driving away refugees. Gunshots rang out and people scattered in panic. He Yulan had been near them at the time and, in her fear, instinctively followed them. From that moment, she was separated from her family.

Fang Dahai’s mother was soft-hearted. She knew that if they abandoned the girl, she’d likely have no chance of survival. So she discussed it with Father Fang, and they decided to take He Yulan in as Fang Dahai’s child bride, making her part of the family. They all fled together to Changping, and for six years, she’d been raised as one of their own.

Perhaps it was because she lacked family and felt insecure, or maybe out of gratitude for the Fang family taking her in during such hard times, or maybe she truly already considered herself part of the family—as soon as she was betrothed to Fang Dahai, she became fiercely protective of them. Even when Fang’s mother gave birth to Xiangcao and was in confinement, it was He Yulan who cared for her.

So when she heard the two younger children crying in fear, she instinctively offered to take on the most dangerous task.

But Fang Dahai, after all, had the mindset of an adult and six full years of survival experience on the border. How could he possibly let a young girl take on such a dangerous job?

With a wave of his hand, he gently pushed the children toward the cave entrance. While pulling over nearby thorn bushes to camouflage them, he said:

“I’ll circle around and go through the woods behind the village. There are more trees there to hide behind, and I’ll be able to hear what’s going on. If the soldiers haven’t left, the village will still be noisy. If they have, we’ll likely see people putting out fires. Whether it’s safe or not will be obvious. If it is safe, I’ll go check on Dad first, then come back to get you all.”

The children didn’t fully understand whether the plan was solid, but it sounded reasonable enough to calm their sobbing. Though still nervous and uneasy about being without their big brother, they thought of their father, who was shot and whose fate was unknown, and managed to nod in agreement.

“Then… big brother, you must hurry. Once it gets dark, it’ll be hard to come back up the mountain.”

Oh right, that’s true. It was autumn now—after 6 p.m., the sun would go down. And a round trip like this would take at least one or two hours. What to do? He was uneasy about leaving the children alone on the mountain. This wasn’t modern times—there were plenty of wild animals in these hills.

“Forget it. You all come down with me. We’ll hide in the woods for now. If things seem dangerous, we’ll come back here. If it’s safe, we’ll go into the village together.”

Not having to part with their big brother? That was the best news yet. Even if there was danger, at least they’d be together and could support each other.

Fang Dajiang didn’t even bother replying—he scrambled back into the cave, pulled out two bundles, and strapped them onto himself, determined to go down the mountain with them.

Children raised near the mountains had no trouble navigating mountain paths. As long as the youngest was carried on someone’s back, they could descend quickly. In less than half an hour, the group had reached the forest behind the village.

From here, they could already see the village clearly. There were no longer any loud sounds, though crying could still be heard. The fires seemed to have been put out, though thick black smoke still rose in several places.

Seeing this, Fang Dahai was about 70–80% sure the routed soldiers had left. But as the saying goes, better safe than sorry. So after some thought, he decided to be cautious. He picked a few thick trees and, one by one, helped the children climb up and hide in them.

“You all wait here, I’ll go take a look first.”

“Big brother.”

“Don’t worry, the noise has already died down. They’ve probably left. Wait here, I’ll come back to get you soon.”

Fang Dahai comforted them for a while, noticing that the sky was starting to darken, and his heart began to feel uneasy. He turned and jogged toward the village.

It had been such a long time—he didn’t know if their father, who had been shot, was still alive. It was likely that he hadn’t survived, nine times out of ten.

Of course, though he was anxious, Fang Dahai had been a scout on the edge of life and death before, so he was very careful. Even while jogging, he used the trees to cover his movements, taking each step lightly. As a result, no one noticed him as he entered the village and got near his house. But such caution wasn’t necessarily a good sign.

On the small path leading to the mountain forest near his house, Fang Dahai found his father lying in a pool of blood, lifeless. His father’s face was frozen in a terrified expression, and his eyes were still glaring in the direction of the mountain.

He couldn’t let go of his children, even in death!

Fang Dahai’s heart ached sharply, and tears instantly filled his eyes.

This wasn’t the kind of emotion a person like him—someone who was used to life and death—should have.

Was it the lingering soul of the original owner that was grieving? So he hadn’t truly left! Was he also worried about his family?

It must be so. Fang Dahai knew that he should say something, do something now.

He moved quietly, gently laying his father’s body flat. He placed his hand over his father’s eyes and, as he closed them, whispered softly:

“Father, we’re all fine. Don’t worry, I’ll take care of my younger siblings and make sure they grow up well.”

His hand slid down, and his father’s eyes closed.

“Don’t worry, Father, I’ll bury you properly. I’ll take good care of the younger siblings and the wife. Rest peacefully.”

Before his promise could even fully fade, Fang Dahai felt his body lighten suddenly.

Was he truly gone now? How had he crossed over here? Why had the original body suddenly died? That’s right, when he first arrived, his body had been very hot—could it have been from burning to death?

Fang Dahai wanted to think more about this, but the timing wasn’t right, and he didn’t have the energy to focus on it now.

Just as he stood up and was about to find something to move his father’s body back to the house, he heard footsteps around a corner of the small path.

“Who? Who’s there?”