Chapter 2: 02. The Heavens Spared Him, And He Lived.

In the spring of 1945, under the pale moonlight of a new moon, a large transport ship, its hull painted gray, loomed over the dockside. A blurry crowd of people gathered on the shore, waving goodbye to the passengers and sailors who were about to embark on a long and dangerous journey. 

In the cabin on the second floor, Shen Ruozhen removed his suit jacket and relaxed his body to the sound of the whistle. 

The war had been unrelenting, leading to the evacuation of his mother and younger sister overseas for refuge. Many relatives had also found proper resettlement with the assistance of the Shen family. 

Last fall, his father passed away unexpectedly, and the funeral had been kept simple. Afterward, the old housekeeper accompanied the body back to Ningbo for burial. 

The once prominent Shen mansion now stood vacant, as Shen Ruozhen had announced to the world that he would return to his hometown to fulfill his filial duties towards his late father. However, in truth, it was a secure transfer. The conflicting values of loyalty and filial piety caused him to make this decision when he assumed the position of president. 

The room felt stuffy, prompting Shen Ruozhen to unbutton his white shirt. Placing his suitcase flat on the edge of the bed, he opened it to reveal its half-empty contents. Inside, there was a toiletry bag, two suits, and a box of gold-plated crystal wax seals for official use. 

Pulling out the partition, Shen Ruozhen discovered a few unpublished propaganda coins that he had overseen. They had been produced secretly in a batch and successfully shipped a month ago. He kept them as a memento. 

[T/N: Propaganda coins were coins minted during the Second Sino-Japanese War (1937-1945) by the Chinese government and its allies to promote the war effort and boost morale. They often featured patriotic slogans, images of Chinese soldiers and leaders, or symbols of victory. Propaganda coins were a powerful tool of war propaganda. They helped to raise awareness of the war effort, boost morale, and promote the cause of the Chinese people. They are also a valuable historical artifact that provides insights into the Second Sino-Japanese War.] 

Underneath the propaganda coins lay a newspaper, its pages prominently featuring an article he had written titled "Admonishment to the People - Fuhua Bank's Closure Announcement." Shen Ruozhen had personally penned this piece, and the thought and effort behind it couldn't be adequately expressed in just a few words. Upon rereading it, a multitude of emotions overwhelmed him. 

[T/N: Here is a brief history; There is no Fuhua Bank in China in 1945. The Fuhua Bank you are referring to is most likely the Fuhua Bank of Singapore, which was founded in 1942 by the Fuhua Trading Company, a Chinese trading company based in Singapore. The bank was established to provide financial services to Chinese businesses in Singapore and Southeast Asia. It was later acquired by the Oversea-Chinese Banking Corporation (OCBC) in 1965. The bank's acquisition by OCBC in 1965 marked the end of an era for the Fuhua Bank, but its legacy continues to live on in the OCBC Group.] 

Lying flat on the narrow bed, he rested his hand on his forehead, the hard agate ring between his index fingers feeling like a needle administering tranquility to his skin. 

Shen Ruozhen was incredibly fatigued and soon fell into a deep sleep. 

After a while, the ship began to violently sway, causing the small table in the room to slide across the floor and hit the wall with a resounding "dong." 

Shen Ruozhen awoke and glanced through the small porthole. The sky appeared gloomy, with lightning illuminating the dark expanse and the sea roiling with waves. 

People hurriedly passed by in the corridor, their footsteps growing louder amidst the turbulence. 

Quickly dressed, Shen Ruozhen ventured outside, only to be greeted by the terrible weather: the sea breeze howled, and dense clouds hung low, almost touching the surface of the ocean. 

Before long, the crew members who had been resting were mobilized, indicating that the situation was perilous. 

The deck was filled with anxious passengers, accompanied by low thunder and heavy rainfall. A massive wave surged, causing chaos as people hurriedly sought shelter in their cabins, their unsteady bodies resembling curled-up shrimp. 

Suddenly, a lightning bolt descended from the sky, splitting the ship's mast! 

In an instant, countless individuals were seized by terror, crying, and mourning permeating the air. Some crew members appeared to give up, releasing their grip on hope and collapsing. 

The bone-chilling seawater relentlessly pounded against the deck, while voracious waves swallowed the vulnerable hull in great gulps. 

Amidst the screams, desperate pleas for help, and cries of dismay, convulsion, casualties, and helplessness awaited. 

Shen Ruozhen gripped the railing, his hair wild and his body drenched as the brackish seawater slid down his composed face. 

He swayed slightly and silently chuckled. 

Reflecting on his short life, he had grown up amidst the prosperity of the Shen Family, shouldering the hopes of people. He had experienced joy and endured countless hardships, his name unable to find its place in the annals of history. Yet now, he would find his final resting place beneath the waves. 

Fortunately, he had lived up to the expectations of his family and country. Regrettably, he could not wait for the wounds to heal. 

A colossal wave crashed down from the heavens, the resulting impact creating an instantaneous crack on the deck with a resounding "bang." 

Shen Ruozhen had a brief tinnitus, and the railing was slippery and he couldn't grasp it. He let go of his hand, took out the pocket watch he had worn since childhood from his breast pocket, and rubbed the watch cover with his fingertips. 

The moment the boat sank, the white shirt fluttered lightly, and Shen Ruozhen was suddenly swallowed up by heaven and earth like a single epiphyllum blooming in the night. 

The sea water is too cold, the chill wraps the internal organs, and the breath is exhausted little by little. 

Shen Ruozhen's consciousness became chaotic until it disappeared. 

... 

The floating feeling seems to be gone. 

Shen Ruozhen felt a trace of warmth and steadfastness, the harsh sound stopped, and it was quiet, and then he vaguely heard a footstep. 

Did someone save him? 

As the footsteps moved from far to near, Shen Ruozhen felt more and more real when he stopped by his side. 

He is not dead, he is alive. 

Suddenly, he heard someone talking, with a slightly lower tone, right next to him, talking to him. 

who is it... 

Shen Ruozhen finally opened his eyes. 

A few halos of light flickered in front of his eyes, he was at a loss for a moment, his vision gradually became clear, and his eyes became focused - he saw a strange man. 

So tall and handsome, the other party was staring at him, his indifferent expression mixed with unconcealable surprise. 

Xiang Mingzhang didn't expect that Chu Zhichen, who was about to die, woke up just after he finished his elegy. 

Those eyes stared at him steadfastly, bright pupils, clear as water, without any signs of drunkenness or dying, for a long time, he blinked hesitantly, his long eyelashes flickered, and when he looked again, his eyes became serious. 

Shen Ruozhen didn't speak for a long time, his voice was a little hoarse: "Who are you?" 

Xiang Mingzhang regained his mind and arrogance, and asked back, "Don't you remember me?" 

Shen Ruozhen was more defensive than suspicious, and replied, "I don't know you." 

Xiang Mingzhang didn't even bother to sneer at the sentence "The nobleman forgets things too much". Xiang Yue's five people were all lying in the ward, and it was unknown how many people were injured. He didn't have the patience for a minute to play Tai Chi with a brainless person. 

Xiang Mingzhang leaned over slightly, and couldn't help speculating about this young master Chu maliciously, saying, "Chu Zhichen, it's no use pretending to have amnesia after such a big accident happened." 

Shen Ruozhen: "I—" 

Without waiting for denial, Xiang Mingzhang turned and left the treatment room. 

There were a few more female family members outside, who came to accompany Mrs. Chu, Xiang Mingzhang didn't want to stay any longer, so before leaving, he said, "Auntie, go in and have a look, he's awake." 

Mrs. Chu was startled, her frail body bounced off the sofa and immediately rushed into the treatment room, followed by Chu Shihui and others. 

Shen Ruozhen was taken aback by the sudden influx of people. 

Mrs. Chu flung herself in front of the bed, looked at "Chu Zhichen" carefully, and couldn't contain her excitement: "Xiao Chen, you finally woke up! Mom knows you are lucky!" 

Shen Ruozhen was stunned, only to notice the weirdness around him - the appearance of the ward, the sophisticated instruments, the clothes of these strangers... 

Mrs. Chu held his hand and asked, "Xiaochen, how do you feel? Is it cold? Is there any pain?" 

Chu Shihui murmured on the other side: "It can't be a flashback." 

Mrs. Chu: "Oh, don't curse your brother!" 

"Hello," Chu Shihui called, "Chu Zhichen, are you alright?" 

Shen Ruozhen heard the name clearly, he didn't understand why everyone called him that, and denied, "I'm not Chu Zhichen." 

Mrs. Chu offered a gentle smile and said, "What nonsense are you talking about?" 

Shen Ruozhen repeated for the second time, "You have mistaken me for someone else, my surname is not Chu." 

"Alright, alright," Mrs. Chu responded with an affectionate expression, "From now on, you will take the surname Yang, as long as you are safe and well, everything will be fine." 

Shen Ruozhen withdrew his hand, suppressing the panic in his heart, and spoke with almost solemnity, "Madam, I do not know you, and I am not your son." 

There was a moment of hesitation, and then the discussion broke out in hushed whispers. Mrs. Chu stood dumbfounded on the side, her joy quickly replaced by worry. Li Zangqiu called for a doctor, and the whole family gathered around the bed, anxiously awaiting the latest diagnosis. 

After the examination, the doctor attempted to ask some routine questions, but the responses he received were either "don't remember" or "don't know". 

Finally, the doctor tried to elicit an answer, asking, "If you are not Chu Zhichen, then what is your name?" 

Shen Ruozhen, fully aware of his surroundings, remained vigilant. He did not know which side or power these people, including the doctors, belonged to, and what kind of risks he would face if he revealed his true identity. 

Shen Ruozhen shook his head and chose to remain silent. 

The doctor turned to the family members and explained, "This is likely a case of amnesia. To determine the exact cause and extent of the damage, a detailed examination will be required tomorrow." 

Mrs. Chu refused to believe it, questioning, "Amnesia...do people lose their memory?" 

The doctor responded, "Well, there was a similar case in our hospital in 2018, where the patient couldn't remember anything upon waking up." 

Shen Ruozhen's heart stirred, and he asked aloud, "Excuse me, is it 1918?" 

The doctor was momentarily speechless, and then responded seriously, "That was the 20th century. We are now in the 21st century." 

Shen Ruozhen was stunned, the shock rendering him incapable of displaying any emotion. He couldn't even comprehend the concept of the "21st century". 

How is this possible? 

He had drowned and fallen into a coma, only to wake up decades later by some chance? 

It was absurd, perhaps a dream? He closed his eyes and opened them again, but everything and everyone around him remained tangible and real. 

It all felt so unfamiliar, so detached from reality. 

Instinctively, Shen Ruozhen covered his forehead with the back of his hand, raising it into the air. The blue agate ring between his fingers emitted a faint glow. If not for this ring, he would have doubted his own identity. 

Recognizing his weakness, the doctor asked everyone else to leave the treatment room so that he could discuss precautions with the family members alone. 

Once they were gone, Shen Ruozhen sat half upright on the bed. Several magazines and an evening newspaper were placed on the bedside table. He picked them up and began to read, the simplified characters densely packed on the pages. 

Taking a chance, he searched for the publication date, and the numbers confirmed that the doctor had not been lying. 

Then...with eager anticipation, Shen Ruozhen turned to the military and current affairs sections, afraid to miss a single word of the day's news. He caught sight of some keywords - leadership, policy - and the more he read, the more he became engrossed. His gaze remained fixed on the page, unable to tear himself away. 

The newspaper slipped from his trembling fingers as Shen Ruozhen could no longer maintain his composure. He sat motionless, consumed by his swirling emotions. 

The victory of the war, and how much things had changed. 

More than half a century had passed in the blink of an eye, amidst life and death. 

Lost in his thoughts, Shen Ruozhen was startled when Mrs. Chu quietly entered the room. It had been an exhausting night, and she lacked the energy to address any other matters. She simply wanted to be alone with her son. 

"Lie down and rest," Mrs. Chu helped Shen Ruozhen to lie back down and sat at the edge of the bed. She reached out to brush his hair gently, saying, "Oriental people still look better with black hair. You have fair skin, and I will take care of that." 

Perhaps due to exhaustion, Mrs. Chu spoke softly, and Shen Ruozhen couldn't bring himself to interrupt her. 

Mrs. Chu gazed at him with a mixture of concern and disappointment, and confided, "You've been away for over a year, and you never bothered to make a single call. Every time I tried to reach out, you found it bothersome. Now that you're back in China, all you do is engage in reckless behavior with your friends. You haven't come home, and it pains me to see how heartless you are. Your sister and I agreed to sell our shares, and yet, you couldn't even spare a meal with me." 

"When I received the call about the yacht explosion, I was terrified. Perhaps being a mother means living in constant fear and enduring untold suffering." 

Mrs. Chu sniffed and let out a sigh. "The doctor says there's hope for recovery. I'm not worried about that. I'll be content when you wake up. Just remember that I'm your mother, okay?" 

Shen Ruozhen listened in silence, feeling a wave of sadness wash over him. Did his mother truly care for him so deeply even across the ocean? But now, his mother and sister were likely gone, no longer a part of this world. 

His eyes welled up with tears, and he clenched his teeth, struggling to hold back his emotions. 

"I can't even remember the last time you behaved like this," Mrs. Chu continued, her tears flowing freely. "Your father is gone, and I only have you and Xiaohui. If you don't make it through tonight, how will I go on?" 

Shen Ruozhen couldn't find the words to respond. He was afraid of further upsetting his mother, knowing that she wouldn't believe his denial and would only feel more sorrow. 

How could he explain his existence? He came from 1945, an individual of the last century. There was no way for him to provide proof, and he was afraid of being dismissed as a madman. 

Mrs. Chu helped him tuck in the quilt, and before leaving, she said, "Xiaochen, let's get some more rest." 

How could Shen Ruozhen sleep? 

The sun cast its rays through the window, marking the break of dawn. He dragged his weak body out of the bed, feeling the hard and stable floor beneath his bare feet as he took slow steps toward the window. 

Opening it, the panoramic view of the cityscape unfolded before him. The distant long street brimmed with bustling traffic, the buildings stood densely like a forest, and the pedestrians no longer bore the weariness of old. 

Only the morning glow remained unchanged, a soft caress of pink and gold, descended upon the world, a gentle embrace, while everything else had truly transformed the world. 

The light from the sun bathed his face, and he closed his eyes, savoring the warmth. 

The country had healed its wounds and stood tall. 

But what about his home? 

Had his father, whom he never had a chance to pay his respects to, his long-separated mother and sister, all vanished over time? 

Who was he? 

An apparition that appeared out of thin air, with an unexplainable past and an ignorant present. 

Where would his future lead? 

Who was Shen Ruozhen? 

By some miracle, he had escaped death, allowing him to survive. 

To survive, he needed to learn how to live on. To survive, he must first adapt to his new surroundings. But before that, he needed a place to settle down. 

Deep in thought, Shen Ruozhen realized that he must bear a striking resemblance to "Chu Zhichen." Even their familial ties and destinies aligned remarkably well. Could it be divine intervention, a way for him to occupy this ward in the Chu family? 

Perhaps, in lending him a new identity, God was assisting him. 

Shen Ruozhen's heart raced, a mix of apprehension and shame washing over him for such a deceptive plan. 

As he gazed up at the sky, the clouds dispersed and the moon sank. Peculiarly, he extended his hand out the window and let the breeze caress his palm. 

No, it wasn't borrowing; it was stealing.