Interstellar to 80s: A Scientist's Farming Mission

A single sentence from Jiang Xia was all it took to make the deeply affectionate Jiang Dongcheng freeze.

In contrast, Jiang Xia’s smile was gentlemanly and polite, but his tone was that of a soul-snatching Hell Messenger.

"Do you remember my uncle, Jiang Donghua?"

"The same Jiang Donghua who was four years older than you, who always took care of you when Grandpa and Grandma Jiang weren’t around?"

"The one who went hungry just so you could eat your fill?"

"The one who nearly drowned trying to save you?"

"The one you’ve always said just disappeared."

With each question, Jiang Xia’s tone grew heavier, the mounting pressure wearing on Jiang Dongcheng’s nerves.

The name Jiang Donghua was something of a taboo in the Jiang family.

When Jiang Dongcheng was seven, an eleven-year-old Jiang Donghua suddenly vanished in the war zone.

What it meant to disappear in a war zone was self-evident.

At eleven, Jiang Donghua was obedient, sensible, reasonable, and sincere. He was even the young leader of a youth guerrilla squad, a deadeye with a slingshot.

Although parents aren’t supposed to have favorites, he was truly Grandpa Jiang’s pride and joy.

But this very boy, praised and beloved by all, had died at eleven.

By the time Grandpa and Grandma Jiang heard the news, Jiang Donghua had already been dead for two months and ten days. Endless regret, guilt, and the longing that followed consumed them.

But they couldn’t leave.

In the war zone, who hadn’t lost a loved one?

"Jiang Dongcheng, I found my uncle, Jiang Donghua. Are you happy?"

Jiang Xia’s abyss-black eyes stared at Jiang Dongcheng, waiting for his answer.

"No, no, no... impossible! Jiang Donghua is dead! He’s dead! He’s dead!"

Jiang Dongcheng’s act abruptly shattered. He stared wildly at Jiang Xia and shrieked, "Jiang Donghua is dead! He’s dead!"

"What a pity. I’m still alive."

A sudden voice made everyone look behind Jiang Xia.

A white knit shirt, casual athletic pants, and on his feet, a pair of comfortable Old Beijing cloth shoes resting on cold footplates.

The newcomer was in a wheelchair.

Jiang Xia turned, his attitude visibly changed. A warm aura enveloped him as he walked behind the wheelchair, grasped its handles, and said with affectionate reproach, "Didn’t I tell you to wait for me to push you?"

"Well, it seemed like the right moment."

The man—Jiang Donghua—spoke, and Jiang Xia gave a helpless but fond smile. He pushed Jiang Donghua’s wheelchair to the front of the crowd, facing Jiang Dongcheng.

Seated, Jiang Donghua gave a slight nod to the people around him and said softly, "I apologize for the disturbance."

This simple sentence made the onlookers feel unexpectedly flattered, and they quickly replied, "Not at all, not at all."

The two men before them, one sitting and one standing, shared a striking resemblance, yet their auras were completely different.

If Jiang Dongcheng stood out among his colleagues for his looks and scholarly air, then Jiang Donghua’s appearance immediately distinguished the genuine from the fake.

One a true scholar, the other a counterfeit.

Even though Jiang Donghua was in a wheelchair, everyone’s gaze was still drawn to him.

After speaking to the crowd, Jiang Donghua, still in his wheelchair, let his gaze fall upon Jiang Dongcheng, a myriad of emotions welling up inside him.

"Jiang Dongcheng, you’ve gotten old."

"Heh, you’re right. I’ve gotten this old myself."

Jiang Donghua’s words seemed to flip a switch. The frozen Jiang Dongcheng suddenly snapped to life. There wasn’t a trace of joy at seeing his relative in his eyes, only terror.

Jiang Dongcheng pointed a finger at Jiang Donghua, stumbling backward as he yelled, "Impossible! Impossible! You can’t be alive! You can’t be!"

Seeing Jiang Dongcheng’s reaction, Jiang Donghua’s disappointment deepened.

"Why couldn’t I be alive?"

Jiang Donghua’s pressing question made the delirious Jiang Dongcheng blurt out, "You were blown up! I saw it with my own eyes, you were blown up!"

From his wheelchair, Jiang Donghua suddenly whipped the small blanket off his lap and rolled up an empty pant leg.

"AHHH—"

"*GASP*—"

"My God!"

A horrifying scar was visible at the very top of his thigh, where his leg had been almost completely severed.

"I was indeed blown up. I was just lucky enough not to die."

"See? I fought to stay alive, all to come back and find you. Are you happy?"

The gruesome wound made Jiang Dongcheng retreat in even greater fear. He stumbled and fell to the ground, propping himself up with his hands and shaking his head violently, his mind slipping further into chaos.

"Don’t come for me, don’t come for me, don’t come for me!"

Jiang Dongcheng shook his head forcefully, his terrified and frantic appearance causing suspicion to flicker in the eyes of the onlookers.

Anyone from Old Beijing knew of Jiang Donghua.

Back in those days, Jiang Donghua, a cherished son and a leading figure among his peers, had disappeared at a young age.

At the time of his disappearance, Grandpa Jiang had told everyone he was missing simply because a complete body was never found; the old man was unwilling to admit he was dead.

But in reality, everyone believed Jiang Donghua was dead.

Logically, Jiang Dongcheng, as Jiang Donghua’s own younger brother, should have been happy that such a person was still alive. But his current behavior... what did it mean?

In his wheelchair, Jiang Donghua watched the completely unrepentant Jiang Dongcheng, and the small crack of hope remaining in his heart gradually closed.

’Just as Jiang Xia had said, this person, Jiang Dongcheng, was rotten to the core.’

Jiang Donghua, still in his wheelchair, covered his leg with the blanket again, leaned forward slightly, and looked at Jiang Dongcheng.

"Don’t be afraid. Your big brother doesn’t blame you."

"We ran into enemy soldiers back then. You were scared, I understand. You accidentally pushed me into the spot where the explosives were buried, right?"

As soon as he said this, everyone gasped.

’Jiang Donghua was pushed into explosives by his own brother?’

On the ground, Jiang Dongcheng had completely lost his mind. Jiang Donghua was a topic he couldn’t bear to touch; he was truly terrified of him.

Growing up, it was always Jiang Donghua who took care of Jiang Dongcheng. He should have been the person Jiang Dongcheng was closest to.

Between the two brothers, if there was only one steamed bun, Jiang Donghua would give it to Jiang Dongcheng to eat while he drank cold water on the side.

But when the two of them saw suspicious enemy soldiers, Jiang Dongcheng, for his own safety, pushed the very brother who had devoted himself to him wholeheartedly from behind into a place where bombs were buried. The explosion drew the enemy’s attention, and he seized the chance to escape.

"Don’t come for me! I had no choice, I had no choice!"

"You’re my big brother! You said you’d protect me!"

"You said you’d protect me even if you died! Why are you still coming after me?!"

In his wheelchair, Jiang Donghua leaned forward, his gaze fixed on Jiang Dongcheng, a look of release in his eyes.

’So, this is what he was thinking?’

"I see. For so many years, I’ve wondered why. You’re right. I would have been willing to die to save you."

"But being pushed in by my own brother is something I can never accept."

"I could have done it willingly, but not have it forced upon me. Those are two different things, aren’t they?"

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