"Zhou Junfeng, pour me a glass of water!"
"Zhou Junfeng, go down and get my delivery!"
"Zhou Junfeng, my takeout is here, go grab it for me."
"Zhou Junfeng, are you deaf?"
............
The familiar voice rang in his ears. Zhou Junfeng hadn't yet snapped out of the shock of having suddenly become wealthy, and even if he had, he wouldn't have bothered to respond. Run errands for him? Would he like a slap in the face to go with that?
He was now a handsome, wealthy man with a net worth of three hundred million—he could buy this pathetic little company several times over.
"Am I talking to a wall?"
"Getting bold, are we? Playing deaf? Do you still want this job or not?"
The "wealthy" boss stood there with his hands in his pockets, looking down at Zhou Junfeng with utter disdain and a threatening tone. He knew this soft touch would be nodding and bowing after a couple of intimidations; in this current economy, jobs were hard to find, and if you didn't listen, you could get out.
Zhou Junfeng thought to himself: *Oh, please. The "me" today is not the "me" of yesterday. Do you even know who you're talking to? You're talking to your god of wealth!*
*What a piece of work! Enough is enough! No more putting up with this!*
"I'm done. I quit. I'm leaving."
"Who wants to work this miserable job? Who do you think you are, some kind of emperor? Issuing me imperial decrees? Just because I call you boss, you really think you're one? Did you start this company? Do you pay my salary? Do I have to obey your every command?"
"I'm not doing it anymore!"
"You idiot!"
"Are you paralyzed or dead? Can't you pour your own water? Can't you fetch your own delivery?"
"Do you think you'll starve if I don't pick up your takeout? Fine then, I'm done serving you. Let's see if you starve to death!"
Zhou Junfeng had been wanting to blow up for a long time. Now that he had financial security, he had nothing to fear. The guy had no real talent but a laundry list of issues. Ever since this moron had been parachuted into their department, he’d insisted on having his subordinates do everything for him—fetching takeout, picking up deliveries, pouring tea—except for going to the bathroom himself. If they were even a second slow, he’d start cursing. It was infuriating. Zhou Junfeng hadn't wanted to look at his smug, sycophantic face for even another day.
"Whoever wants to play errand boy for this jerk can go right ahead. I don't have the time for you," Zhou Junfeng said. He tossed his employee badge aside and walked out with a swagger.
"You... this is pure rebellion! If anyone else doesn't want to work, they can get out with him!"
Zhou Junfeng faintly heard his idiot boss roaring, but he just chuckled to himself. He didn't care about how the others reacted; everyone had their own way of living. For those who wanted to swallow their pride and endure such humiliation, he wished them the best!
He, however, was done. He had plenty of money now; he could snap back at whoever he wanted.
"Xiaojun, you were so cool today! That old geezer is in big trouble now. What you did has spread through the whole company, and the big boss has already called him in for a talk."
Zhou Junfeng was just preparing to enjoy some shopping at the mall near the office when he received a call from a former colleague.
"Xiaojun, you sacrificed yourself for the rest of us! But you were too impulsive—why did you just quit like that? What are you going to do now?"
"Xiaojun..."
"Xiaojun..."
...................................
"Brother, are you okay?"
Zhou Junfeng heard someone calling him "brother," and his mind finally began to clear. Then, a sharp pain shot through his head, and memories of before the transition flooded back. He pounded his chest in regret.
That 300 million he’d just won! He hadn't even had a chance to enjoy a single cent of it before crossing over!
A miserable life follows a man even after he crosses over. He’d hit the jackpot only to drop dead before he could spend it. How had he even crossed over? He remembered receiving a phone call, and his malfunctioning, leaking phone had sent him to this destitute era.
(A friendly reminder to all readers: do not answer your phone while it is charging, otherwise... suffer the consequences...)
The only upside was that this body was just twenty years old—he was nearly ten years younger.
The people around him thought Zhou Junfeng was grieving too deeply. It made sense; how would they survive from here on out? This poor child had lost both his parents and was left with one younger brother and two younger sisters—what a tragic situation!
Zhou Junfeng thought: *Say no more, please. A miserable life follows a man even after he crosses over.*
What a catastrophic start.
"Brother, are you really okay? You’ve been unconscious for a day and a night. Mom and Dad are gone; if something happens to you, what will happen to me and our two sisters? *Sob...*"
Zhou Junfeng turned his head and saw a boy of about fifteen or sixteen looking at him with concern.
The pressure was immense. The eldest son acts as the father, and there were three of them.
"…When in Rome, do as the Romans do, I suppose."
"Xiaohai, take your sisters outside for a while. My head hurts. I’ll come out after I rest a bit longer."
Zhou Junfeng was still in a daze after waking up. He wanted some peace and quiet; he couldn't handle the "magic" noise of three children right now.
"Everyone, let's disperse. Xiaojun is awake. Let the child get some rest."
"Xiaojun, Xiaohai, if you need any help, come find First Uncle in the back courtyard. I'll head back now."
............
Once everyone had left, Zhou Junfeng finally had time to organize his memories.
It was 1965. His family situation was as follows:
His father, Zhou Yitian, had just died in the line of duty at forty.
His mother, Yang Cuicui, had died in childbirth with the twin sisters.
He was the eldest, Zhou Junfeng, twenty years old, just graduated from university and waiting for his job assignment.
The young boy was the second brother, Zhou Haifeng, fifteen, in his third year of middle school.
The eldest sister, Zhou Xuemei, thirteen, in her first year of middle school.
The second sister, Zhou Xuehua, thirteen, in her first year of middle school.
His father had been a junior officer at the local police station. Two days ago, during a joint operation, he had sacrificed himself while capturing spies. From what he gathered, it was a five-man operation, and his father was one of the commanders. He had been shot dead by a spy while protecting his teammates. Two of the five died, and one was seriously injured. Fortunately, the enemy spies were all captured. His father was honored as a "martyr" and received two thousand yuan in compensation.
Two thousand yuan was a massive fortune in the 60s; it was enough to raise his brother and sisters. With his father's death, there would also be a job quota left behind.
He had just graduated from university, and the school guaranteed placements. That meant there were two job slots. Even if his brother couldn't get into a technical school or university, he wouldn't have to worry about work. His two sisters were still young, but he would figure something out later.
The immediate priority was that he was just one man; he couldn't even take care of himself, let alone three half-grown children. In his previous life, he was the type who wouldn't even bother to pick up a fallen oil bottle. Now that he was in the 60s, he couldn't do a lick of work.
He had to get the job situation settled, then find a wife—and he had to get on that quickly.
Zhou Junfeng ate a bit of cornmeal bun, and once he was sure he wouldn't starve, he prepared to go out and walk around the Courtyard. This was the famous world of the "Courtyard" drama. Since transmigrators seemed to flock here, he had to see it for himself.
The Moral Paragon—First Uncle Yi Zhonghai.
The "Kind Father, Filial Son"—Second Uncle Liu Haizhong.
The King of Cheapskates—Third Uncle Yan Bugui.
The White Lotus—Qin Huairu.
The Generous and Reasonable—Zhang Xiaohua.
The Thief Saint—Jia Geng.
The Modest Gentleman—Xu Damao.
And the handsome, suave, and dashing He Yuzhu—Comrade Shazhu.
Comrade Shazhu, whom all transmigrators loved so much.
Everyone knew this drama, full of "love" and famously titled "Courtyard," was deeply moving—the only regret was that he wasn't a character in the show. Since he’d already transmigrated, why not let him experience it?
(P.S. If you want to experience it, it's easy—just inherit the Jia Family. Buy one and get four free.)
Zhou Junfeng: ...
There was a draft, a chilly wind. His body was weak, so he’d better head back inside and lie down.