"Twenty years... guess it's finally time to end it all."

Carlton Grant stared at the old, yellowing photo in his hand as tears silently streamed down his face.

“Everyone from Jiangwan’s long gone—your parents, mine... I've done all I can for them. It’s time I came to find you two now. Just… I wonder, can you ever forgive me?”

He lightly traced the figures in the photo, his fingertips trembling as though he could actually touch his wife and daughter again. His voice barely above a whisper, filled with pain and regret.

Three days later.

April 1st. April Fools' Day.

A piece of news shocked the world.

Billionaire business mogul Carlton Grant—his private jet had crashed over the Pacific.

The plane went down in the ocean. His body was never recovered.

News outlets reported that he left behind a will, donating his entire fortune to Huaguo Medical University, to fund AIDS research and help those fighting the disease.

The media went wild. The public was stunned.

Who would've thought? A legendary business giant vanishing on April Fools' Day… as if the universe was playing some twisted prank.

But what the world would never understand was that Carlton Grant, that man standing on top of everything, had been the punchline of a cosmic joke from the start.

A cruel joke, that began all the way back on April 1, 1983.

…

Carlton slowly blinked awake.

A harsh beam of light shot through the plastic roof tile, slicing into the dim room like a blade.

The place was falling apart—mud brick walls that looked about ready to collapse, a crooked cabinet, a faded square table, and a makeshift bed that screamed poverty.

Where… was this?

Carlton’s mind was blank.

Didn’t he already jump into the ocean?

Why the hell was he here?

He pinched his arm, hard.

Ouch.

This wasn’t a dream.

Which meant…

He was back.

Reborn.

Carlton let out a stunned laugh. And then the tears came, quick and unrelenting.

Last life, he messed up—bad. Hurt his wife and daughter. Left them to suffer and die too soon, carrying the weight of his mistakes to the grave.

But now, somehow... he had a second shot.

"If I've been given this one chance... then I swear, I won’t let anything hurt you again. I’ll protect you. I’ll make damn sure you have the happiest life possible."

His voice trembled as he clenched his fists, eyes shining with determination.

He wiped his face, rolled off the bed, and bolted out the door like a man possessed—desperate to see the two faces he had missed every single day for the past twenty years.Besides the bedroom, there was just a small living space and a cramped kitchen.

Carlton Grant rushed in and out of the house, scanning every corner, but Emily and Sophia were nowhere to be seen. Only the sweet osmanthus tree out front stood in the sun, lonely as ever.

"Where did they go?"

The thrill of being back in this world vanished in a heartbeat.

His mind raced, anxiety like a tidal wave ready to drown him.

"Don’t tell me... today’s that day?"

A chill shot through him. That terrifying thought hit him like a brick, and his heart sank.

Sure, he’d come back, but he had no idea what day or year this was supposed to be.

Carlton took a good look at the branches of the tree and scanned the fields and hills. Judging by the way things looked, it had to be around early April.

He remembered perfectly—Emily went to sell blood on April 1st, 1983.

And that one act had cost her life—she’d gotten HIV from that blood donation.

“God, this better not be a sick joke...”

Just thinking about how it all ended last time made his skin crawl. His eyelid twitched like crazy, and cold sweat instantly broke out on his back. Without wasting another second, he bolted.

Jiangwan got its name from Qingjiang, the river that ran a big curve around Daqingshan like a giant bow from afar.

Flat land surrounded the bend, rich soil spread across the valley. A short climb past a few mounds led to the base of Daqingshan, where most houses were built up against the hills. About a hundred families lived in the area.

The Grant family was well-known in Jiangwan, a huge clan—dozens of households were related, all within five degrees of kinship.

Their homes were packed pretty tight—some shared courtyards, others had just a veggie patch between them.

Small trails and field ridges connected the houses, making it easy to drop in on relatives.

Carlton dashed madly down one of those narrow paths, hoping he'd bump into someone who could tell him where Emily and Sophia had gone—or at the very least, what time it was.

But no luck. Every door he passed was locked tight. Place was a ghost town.

Not surprising. It was broad daylight—only someone like him, jobless and loafing, would be home. Everyone else was probably out working.

No one to ask, Carlton felt his anxiety spike.

He sprinted out of the family’s housing cluster and tore down toward the fields below.

Early April meant it was corn planting season. While running, he kept telling himself: "Maybe it’s not that day. Maybe Emily just took Sophia along to help with the planting."

Back then, country kids didn’t get babysitters. Adults brought them to the fields, let them play nearby, or help with small chores once they were big enough.Carlton Grant’s urgency made sense under the circumstances.

As he dashed down the slope, he saw several folks working hard in the fields.

"Uncle Michael, have you seen Emily?" Carlton shouted while running toward a man swinging a hoe.

That man was Michael Grant, Carlton's third uncle—already in his forties.

He paused, turning around with a strange look on his face. Since when did this kid start caring about his wife?

Seeing Carlton all frantic like that, he figured the guy probably lost a bet and now needed money from Emily again.

Michael spat on the ground, leaned on his hoe, and said coldly, "Didn’t see her."

Carlton deflated a bit hearing that. He steadied his breath, then asked quickly, "Uncle, what’s today’s date?"

That question made Michael snap. He barked, "You useless bum! Drunk all the time and now you don’t even know what day it is? Why don’t you just drink yourself dead and stop wasting good food..."

That outburst stung more than a little. Carlton had only asked a simple question, and now he was getting chewed out.

But thinking back on how much of a mess he was before, he figured he kind of deserved it. He knew Michael was all bark and no bite, a soft-hearted guy deep down. So instead of getting worked up, he pressed on, anxious, "Uncle, I’m serious this time. I need to know."

Michael gave him a squinty look, obviously not convinced. Probably thought Carlton was just hungover and trying to figure out when to meet up for the next game of cards. Still annoyed, he snapped, "It’s April 1st, 1983. You better tattoo that on your brain. With any luck, maybe a bolt of lightning’ll hit you..."

Boom.

That hit Carlton like thunder in the brain.

It really was April 1st, 1983.

Any shred of hope that this was all some sick joke disappeared. Panic and dread clawed at his chest.

Today was the day Emily went to the blood bank in Qingzhou.

The day she caught AIDS.

And she wasn’t home... which meant she was probably already on her way.

Carlton’s head pounded, the world spinning as fear gripped him.

Was fate really set in stone? Was he powerless to stop the past from repeating?

"No way..."

The words ripped from his throat.

He wasn’t going to let the same tragedy happen again.

Legs firing like pistons, Carlton took off running toward Qingzhou with everything he had.