In 1979, in the remote township of Songlin Brigade under Donglin City, time seemed frozen amidst the worn-out clay houses, battered by years of weather. Their cracked walls were overrun with weeds, stubbornly sprouting through the gaps.
Inside one of these dimly lit huts, the space was cramped. Farming tools were piled haphazardly in the corner, leaving little room. Deeper inside, a rudimentary kang bed sat on the dirt floor. In the middle of the bed, there was a wooden table holding a flickering kerosene lamp, its unsteady light casting eerie shadows.
On the bed lay a girl. Her eyes were shut tight, lips tinged with a bluish-purple hue, her frail body covered from head to toe in a foul-smelling burlap cloth. The stench was sharp enough to make her stir slightly, her consciousness slowly creeping back into her mind.
Just as she was about to open her eyes, she froze, alarmed by the unmistakable sound of conversation nearby. It was harsh, loud.
"I told you to wait a couple of days! The girl's weak, can't handle whatever crap you've done to her. And now she's dead! Her family won't just let this slide—they'll milk you for all you're worth. And now you're talking about getting the bride money back?!"
"Yeah, and I say screw ’em! All I did was touch her twice, and she dropped dead! That's not on me. I want my money back!"
"Get your money back? From her folks in the city? If they make a fuss and the Zhiqing Office catches wind, we’ll all be in deep trouble—might as well start digging our own graves!"“Damn it! Even paper would hold up better than her—spent money on a sickly mess, what bad luck!”
“Alright, calm down. I’ll find you another one later.”
...
Arya couldn’t care less about hearing the rest of the conversation. At that moment, a flood of unfamiliar memories was rushing into her head.
She had been a modern-day fashion influencer with millions of followers, known for her stunning looks and impeccable style. Her photos effortlessly garnered tens of thousands of likes and comments.
But who would’ve thought burning the midnight oil editing videos could lead to her sudden death? When she woke up, she found herself in the body of a girl with the same name from the 1980s.
The voices in the room stopped.
Heavy footsteps approached the bedside.
A foul, fish-like stink radiated from the rough hand that grazed across her pale cheek before moving to her chest. Furious, the man roughly groped her before finally hoisting her onto his shoulder like a sack of flour.
The road was uneven, his steps were sharp, and before long, they reached the upper stream of the riverbank.
She was dumped unceremoniously to the ground, and without hesitation, he kicked her into the river with obvious disdain, muttering, “Ugh, useless woman—what rotten luck, buying this crap!”
The rains from the past few days had nearly overwhelmed the riverbanks.
The water was roaring.
The icy current hit her like needles to the skin, freezing her body, dragging her under without mercy. Arya Harrison let out a long breath, finally feeling a bit of relief.
She had been terrified a moment ago, fearing she'd be thrown off a cliff or buried alive with no chance to resist.
But the man was likely still watching from the spot where he'd left her. She didn’t dare surface immediately. Instead, she used the flowing river to catch breaths between rising and sinking, drifting downstream quietly.
At the base of the river dam, the geology team was wrapping up their workday.
Everyone was dressed in the same tan uniform, head down, tidying up their tools and preparing to head to the canteen for dinner.
A few team members noticed their leader still meticulously cleaning the sight line and called out, “Antony, the canteen’s serving braised pork today. People have been talking about it all day—come on, let’s go before it’s gone!”
The geology team specialized in supporting national infrastructure projects—building dams, power stations, and things like that—which meant they often stayed on-site for long stretches.
With more than a hundred staff members and their families depending on the food supply, the canteen only provided meat once a month. If you were late, good luck even getting near the counter.
Antony Bason knew how badly everyone craved meat.
Honestly, he couldn’t remember the last time he’d had a decent oily meal himself. Speeding up his movements slightly, he said to a few team members still handling the equipment, “You all go first and secure your meals. I’ll finish packing up the instruments.”
Focused and efficient, he quickly reached the final stages of his task.The sun was setting, casting a brilliant glow across the sky.
Under the shadows of the mountains, the orange-red river surged forward as if chasing after a grand dream.
He raised his eyes, staring at the rushing river in the distance, and suddenly recalled the strange dreams he'd been having lately.
For several nights now, he'd been dreaming the same thing.
In the dream, he saved a drowning woman.
She turned into a drenched siren clinging to him, with dark hair, red lips, and watery eyes that seemed to flirt and tease. Her delicate fingers ignited wildfire wherever they touched him.
Antony Bason shook his head and rubbed his temples.
Years of maintaining a cool detachment, only to start having dreams like this now. Maybe it was his age catching up with him.
Recently, his family had been sending him telegrams non-stop, trying to get him to come home for a matchmaking meeting.
Whenever he visited during his leave, his childhood friends from home would insist on introducing someone.
But just thinking of their chaotic married lives would instantly dampen any interest he might have.
The team members heading back from the mess hall were filtering in.
Addison Coleman was carrying a large enamel mug. At the bottom was a layer of coarse rice, topped with fragrant braised pork and a generous drizzle of meat sauce. The aroma was so rich you could smell it from afar.
Walking alongside him were two female knowledge workers from the neighboring village.
Their outfits were identical. White polyester shirt paired with black trousers, with two thick braids hanging loosely over the shoulders.
However, years of working under the sun in the fields couldn't be hidden—the skin looked rough and sallow, and the body was as thin as a twig.
One of the female sent-down youth carried a bamboo basket hooked over her arm, filled with pickled vegetables made especially for the geology team.
Supposedly, it was meant for the whole team, but everyone knew the real target—it was clearly aimed at their team captain, Antony Bason.
In this era, working for the geology team practically guaranteed a golden job.
Regular staff earned over a hundred yuan a month combining wages and stipends, while senior researchers pulled in more than two hundred—nearly double what workers in popular industries like steel or meatpacking earned.
Not to mention, the unit took care of family registration and even job placements for spouses. Naturally, the local sent-down youth wouldn't let such an opportunity slip.
And among them, they all had their eyes set on the most eligible one—Antony Bason, the captain and researcher of the first team.
Every few days, someone would show up at the geology team with some gift, each time coming up with some new excuse.
Too bad for them, it was all for nothing.
Antony’s mind was fully invested in his work. He was downright resistant to dating, never sparing so much as a glance at them. He took the enamel mug handed to him by a coworker and found a big rock by the dam to sit on, ready to eat his meal. He didn’t even notice the two female workers standing nearby.
That didn’t stop them from sneaking glances his way.
Despite working under the same sun, his pale complexion looked smooth, like polished jade, giving off a faint glow in the sunlight. He stood out sharply against the sun-tanned, rugged men around him.
He wore a military-green tank top that showed off his lean waist. His arms, slim yet muscular, flexed slightly whenever he bent his elbow. His tall, straight posture added an effortless charm, and the loose work pants he wore carried a carefree sense of ruggedness.
His face was like a perfect sculpture. Long, deep-set eyes, a high and straight nose, and a jawline sharp enough to define every angle—each feature just right and harmoniously balanced. On closer inspection, a small black mole on the high bridge of his nose added a hint of sultry allure to his sharp features.
When delivering reports for the team, he’d switch to a neat dress shirt and trousers, with silver-framed glasses perched on his nose. The transformation into a refined, reserved gentleman was captivating.