Traveling back to 1966, starting by living in a cowshed.

Lin Zhou came out of the space and stretched his body. A sharp pain, like being pricked with needles, came from his back first. He gritted his teeth and gasped for breath. The moment his fingertips touched the bruise on his shoulder blade, he was in so much pain that he almost jumped up.

The musty smell mixed with the stench of cow dung and urine enveloped him like an invisible net, making him afraid to even breathe too heavily—this place was too unsafe, and no one could say for sure whether a red armband-wearing officer would kick down the door and point at his nose shouting "black five categories" at him in the next second.

He took a deep breath and, enduring the pain, pulled out the unopened bottle of safflower oil from his pocket. It was prepared during the house renovation, but it hadn't been used. The glass bottle gleamed faintly in the dim light.

He unscrewed the bottle cap, and a pungent medicinal smell immediately wafted out, overpowering the stench in the cowshed. As he pressed his fingers, smeared with the medicinal oil, onto the bruises, Lin Zhou felt a sharp pain, cold sweat beading on his forehead. He couldn't help but wonder why it hadn't hurt this much in the space earlier, but the thought in his mind grew clearer and clearer: he couldn't stay here any longer.

If he stayed here, he could imagine what his future would be like with his eyes closed. He would have to work before dawn every day, eat two cornbreads mixed with sand at noon, and write self-criticisms after work in the evening. If there was a "struggle session", he would have to be forced to stand on the platform with his head down and listen to people shouting slogans and cursing him.

If I stay any longer, I might not be able to hold back and get into a conflict with someone, and then it won't be as simple as just getting a few beatings.

But where can we go if we leave here? Lin Zhou rubbed his back, his brows furrowed.

His first thought was of his home in Beijing, but he quickly suppressed it. That house with its small courtyard had probably already been occupied.

Even if he wasn't taken, as someone who had been demoted and sent back, he would be reported and taken away before he could even enter the house.

But then he thought again that he had to go back and take a look. Before she died, his mother had given him a wooden box containing a large yellow croaker, but it had been stolen. The gold bars were his mother's lifelong dream and his confidence to live on. He had to get them back no matter what.

"Knock knock" Footsteps came from outside the door. Lin Zhou immediately stuffed the safflower oil under his pillow. The pain in his back hadn't subsided yet, so he could only try to sit up straight.

The door was pushed open a crack, and an old woman wearing a patched cotton-padded jacket walked in carrying two steamed buns. She put the bowl on the low stool in front of him, didn't say anything, just sighed and turned to leave.

Lin Zhou looked at the dark, mushy cornbread in the bowl, not really having any appetite, but he still picked one up and, under the guise of looking down, quietly slipped it into his spatial storage.

Once the old woman's footsteps had completely faded away, the cowshed returned to silence. Lin Zhou leaned against the wall, his eyes fixed on the doorway, but his ears were listening for any sounds outside.

He had to wait until it was completely dark, until the village dogs stopped barking, and until the militiamen at the village entrance were dozing off before he could leave.

There were no windows in the cowshed; the only way to tell the time was by the light filtering in through the doorway. From dusk till nightfall, the sky outside gradually darkened, and the smell of cooking smoke from the village, the sounds of children playing, and the distant whistles all gradually subsided.

Lin Zhou looked at the two phones in his hands. The time on the two phones was now almost two hours different. He finally confirmed that time inside the portable space was frozen; it only started to flow when he entered. This discovery relieved him. At least he had another layer of security when hiding things or avoiding people in the future.

When all was quiet outside except for the occasional bark of a dog, Lin Zhou slowly stood up.

He moved his stiff limbs; the pain in his back was still there, but it was better than in the evening.

He walked to the door, first pushing it open a crack, and looked outside by the moonlight. It was very quiet around him.

He held his breath, gently opened the door, and slipped out like a cat. The cowshed was on the very edge of the village, some distance from the entrance. He listened carefully to the sounds around him.

As he passed the threshing ground at the edge of the village, he saw two militiamen in military overcoats leaning against a haystack smoking, the embers of their cigarettes flickering in the darkness.

Lin Zhou quickly crouched down and hid behind an old locust tree. He waited for about ten minutes until one of the militiamen stood up to relieve himself and the other dozed off with his head down. Only then did he take advantage of the gap and quickly cross the threshing ground to run out of the village.

The night wind blew against his face, carrying a biting chill, yet Lin Zhou was drenched in sweat from running. He dared not look back, and could only run in the direction of Beijing that he remembered.

There were no streetlights on the road, only moonlight illuminating the dirt road beneath his feet. It was full of potholes, and he almost tripped several times, but he managed to pull himself together each time.

The wind made the wound on his back ache, but he dared not stop. If he were caught, what awaited him was a place even more terrifying than the cowshed—a labor camp.

Lin Zhou didn't know how long he had been running; his legs were almost too tired to move anymore before he slowed down. In the distance, he could vaguely see a patch of lights, which pointed towards Beijing.

He was panting heavily, so he leaned against a tree to rest for a few minutes before continuing on his way. Fortunately, things were different now than before liberation; the city walls of Beijing had long been demolished, otherwise he wouldn't have been able to even get through the city gates.

It was already late at night when we entered the city. The streets were deserted, with only a few patrolling militiamen walking slowly.

Lin Zhou kept his head down and tried not to make a sound as he walked along the base of the wall towards the East District.

The original owner's home was in a hutong (alleyway), a blue brick house with a small courtyard. Relying on his memory, he wandered around and finally found that familiar gate.

The brass rings on the gate were long gone, and the door still bore the marks of being kicked during the raid. Lin Zhou gently pushed the door; it wasn't locked, just ajar.

Thunderous snoring echoed in the courtyard, and his heart tightened; someone was indeed living there. Since that was the case, he could only collect rent the way he pleased. He slowed his pace and tiptoed into the courtyard.

Lin Zhou walked along the wall to the door of the main room, gently pushed it, and the hinges creaked softly. He immediately stopped, held his breath, and listened for any sounds inside. He didn't hear anyone get up. He breathed a sigh of relief, slowly pushed the door open, and slipped inside.

The room was simply furnished: a wooden bed, a faded wardrobe, and a square table with an enamel mug on it. A middle-aged man lay on the bed, fast asleep, snoring softly.

Lin Zhou's gaze swept quickly across the room. He first walked to the wardrobe and gently pulled open a drawer. Inside were a few old clothes, nothing special. He then touched the inside of the wardrobe, his finger pausing on a wooden board—this board was looser than the rest.

He gripped the edge of the wooden board with his fingernail and pulled gently, revealing a small space inside, but it was empty, with nothing inside.

Lin Zhou remained calm and quietly went under the bed. There was a cardboard box under the bed. He squatted down and carefully dragged the box out. When he opened the box, his eyes lit up. Inside was a small mahogany box and some miscellaneous items.

He quickly took out the box, and just as he was about to open it, the man on the bed suddenly turned over and mumbled something.

Lin Zhou's heart leaped into his throat, and he almost dropped the box in his hand. He immediately held his breath, standing there motionless, his eyes fixed on the man on the bed.

The man turned over and went back to sleep, snoring even louder than before. Lin Zhou breathed a sigh of relief, a cold sweat breaking out on his back. He dared not delay any longer, and clutching the mahogany box, he quickly slipped to the door.

He had just reached the door when the man on the bed stirred again, this time opening his eyes and glancing groggily towards the door. Lin Zhou's heart nearly leaped out of his chest. Without a second thought, he immediately slipped into his personal space.

Lin Zhou was panting heavily; that last moment had been incredibly dangerous. He waited for about a minute, unable to see outside from within the confines of the space, and paced anxiously back and forth in the living room.

Suddenly, as if remembering something, he hurriedly went to the gate, looked through the peephole, and saw the outside world. After seeing that the man was asleep again, Lin Zhou came out of the space.

Lin Zhou dared not linger any longer. Clutching the mahogany box, he slipped out. As soon as he stepped out of the courtyard, he heard the snoring inside the house stop. He quickened his pace, turned out of the alley, and disappeared into the night.

Lin Zhou stopped in a deserted alley, leaned against the wall, and opened the mahogany box. Inside, a layer of red velvet cloth was laid out, on which were five large, golden yellow croakers, several bankbooks, and some ten-yuan notes. He closed the box and stuffed it into his pocket.

"Consider these things as rent for your apartment. It's not exactly expensive, considering you're renting it for over ten years!"

But he didn't intend to leave just like that. The original owner's family had been ransacked, not only because of their class background, but also because someone was pulling the strings behind the scenes. Lin Zhou's eyes turned cold. He wasn't some saint; he couldn't let it go when others bullied him. The Zhang family, who had stolen the original owner's mother's gold bars, lived in the next alley, not far from here. He put the mahogany box into his spatial storage, composed himself, and walked towards the Zhang family's house.