Alone, Cheng Xing strolled home, taking in the familiar yet distant evening view of Ancheng. A decade earlier, the city was a far cry from the bustling metropolis it would one day become. Its tallest structures, modest twenty- or thirty-story buildings, were few and far between. The skyline was still dominated by low-rise apartments and scattered streetlights.
But it was this quieter Ancheng that held Cheng Xing's fondest memories. Without the dazzling lights of the future, the city seemed almost desolate under the crisp autumn breeze. The dim streetlights flickered sporadically, adding an eerie charm to the scene.
In 2010, public safety was still a concern, and it was no wonder that Chen Qing's mother fretted about her daughter walking home alone at night. Thankfully, Cheng Xing's house wasn't far from Ancheng No. 1 High School, the city's top institution, which boasted nearly a century of history. Located in a relatively prosperous area, it had a significant advantage over other schools like Ancheng No. 4 High, which, despite its rising reputation, was situated on the outskirts of the city.
For Cheng Xing and many of his classmates, the school's prime location meant they could walk home. Even at a leisurely pace, with stops to play along the way, Cheng Xing would usually reach home in about ten minutes. Others, who lived farther away, had to bike for twenty or thirty minutes. Some even chose to board at school, returning home only on weekends.
Cheng Xing had heard that Jiang Luxi's home was over an hour away by bike. Despite the grueling daily commute, she never opted to stay at school. He found it puzzling—cycling two hours every day seemed exhausting.
The autumn night carried a chill, and Cheng Xing shivered in his thin short-sleeved shirt. Quickening his pace, he hurried home. But as he reached the doorstep, he hesitated.
They say homesickness strikes hardest when you're close to home. Having traveled back in time from 2023 to 2010, the sight of his old house filled Cheng Xing with mixed emotions. He was thrilled at the prospect of seeing his parents again, still vibrant and full of life. In his previous life, it had been years since he had seen them in this youthful state.
As he lingered outside, he caught fragments of a conversation through the door.
"Why isn't Cheng Xing home yet?" his mother, Deng Ying, asked, her voice tinged with concern.
"What's the rush?" replied his father, Cheng Chuan. "He's probably walking Chen Qing home after school. He'll be back soon."
"I really like that girl Chen Qing," Deng Ying said warmly. "She's so smart and pretty. And her family background isn't bad either. Honestly, they'd make a great match."
"With his grades?" Cheng Chuan snorted. "And the Chen family being so scholarly? Not a chance. Forget it—it's just wishful thinking."
"What's wrong with his grades? You can't eat grades, can you?" Deng Ying retorted, clearly displeased. "Didn't you only finish middle school? And look at how well you've done."
"That's different. I had the vision and luck to seize opportunities back then," Cheng Chuan said smugly. "During the reform era, I took a chance and built a business in my hometown, despite the doubts of short-sighted people, If I'd listened to them, would we be living so comfortably now?"
"Stop patting yourself on the back," Deng Ying said, rolling her eyes. "Our son will do even better than you. By the way, who exactly were you calling shortsighted?"
"Who else? Obviously, I meant myself!" Cheng Chuan laughed heartily.
Cheng Xing, listening from the doorway, couldn't help but smile. This lighthearted bickering had been a constant in his childhood, and it almost always ended with his father apologizing. Steeling himself, he pushed open the door and stepped inside.
"Mom, Dad, I'm home," he called out, his voice cracking slightly as he held back tears. His parents looked up from the sofa, their faces brimming with warmth and vitality.
In his previous life, coming home hadn't stirred this kind of emotion. Yet now, seeing their younger faces, etched in the glow of nostalgia, he felt an overwhelming wave of affection.
Memories surged through him like a flood—of silly childhood antics, schoolyard crushes, and late-night study sessions. These were fragments of a time long past, a simpler era he had thought was lost forever. Even in his dreams, his parents' younger faces had rarely appeared. The sharp contrast between the present and his distant memories hit him like a tide, threatening to pull him under.
He swallowed hard, his gaze lingering on his parents. How long had it been since he had spent time with them without the weight of adult responsibilities? Without the rush of work, the pressure of blind dates, or the endless demands of life?
This regression wasn't just a chance to relive his school days. It was an opportunity to savor the city as it once was, with its modest skyline and flickering streetlights. To revisit old friends, dusty photo albums, and half-forgotten songs. Most of all, it was a chance to cherish his parents, whose laughter and presence had always been the cornerstone of his youth.
In this moment, surrounded by the warmth of home, Cheng Xing understood the true depth of nostalgia. It wasn't just the ache of longing for the past—it was the joy of reliving it, even if only for a while.