Yan Kuan

"Eee..."

A chubby little hand struggled to push away the face leaning in close. As an infant who couldn't yet speak, he'd started with nothing but wailing cries, and now at least he had a few babbling syllables to express his displeasure.

The child's mother quickly pushed away the one trying to get close. "You reek of smoke, don't get near our son. Can't you see he doesn't like you?"

"Is the smoke smell on me really that obvious?"

"I feel like covering my nose. No more smoking from now on."

"Alright, alright, I'll quit tomorrow, tomorrow."

"If you can't quit, don't come bothering your son."

The new parents' conversation drifted into his ears. The little infant instinctively shook his round little head in agreement. That smoke smell really was awful to breathe in, and besides, smoking was bad for your health, wasn't it?

"Heh, right, I had someone do a fortune reading for our son. He said the kid's bound to be a scholar in the future, get into university and land a stable job. But about the name, he said it's best not to include 'fire,' that our child is lacking wood in the five elements."

"What 'lacking wood in the five elements'? That's all superstition, okay? The mark on my son's forehead looks just like a flame. What's wrong with a name that has 'fire'? The full name Yan Yan, the nicknames Huo Huo, Xiao Yan—they all sound great. If that's no good, he can just take my surname, Xiao."

The little infant had just been fed and was about to fall asleep, but hearing his mother's words, his whole body jolted. Xiao Yan, Huo Huo, and even changing his surname to Xiao—every time he recalled the information in his head, it gave him a headache. How could he never shake off this name? Even a homophone made him shudder.

"Eee..."

The little infant squirmed restlessly in his mother's arms, as if trying to show his dissatisfaction. His name had once been Yan Xiao, and now, having barely gotten another life, here came another Xiao Yan. Why not just go all the way and call him 'Xiao Yan'?

"See, the son's objecting too. That master's words still hold some truth, dear. Just listen to me. The master calculated that our son is lacking wood in the five elements, so a single character 'Kuan'—Yan Kuan. Benevolent and loving, wealthy and generous."

"Sigh! Fine, you little thing, born just to oppose your mother, aren't you!"

The little infant nodded repeatedly at this name. In the end, his mother relented, picking him up and teasing him in her arms. "Yan Kuan, Yan Kuan, little Kuan Kuan..."

"Ee-ya~"

The newborn Yan Kuan could only give a perfunctory response, hoping to get to sleep sooner, but this reply only made his parents happier.

"See, when I call him little Kuan Kuan, he answers. Our child is so smart."

"Kids are like that—say anything to them, and they'll respond."

"Heh heh, honey, look, the little one's really lively."

"I think he wants to play again. Look at his little fists, so soft when he clenches them."

If Yan Kuan's eyelids weren't still shut, he'd be rolling his eyes right now. These first-time parents were way too much. Life was hard, and the child sighed. Here he was, an infant only a few days old, forced to perform.

A rattle shook a few more times by his ear. Though he wanted to resist this teasing, he could tell—these first-time parents treated him like a toy. Too weak to fight back, he could only go along with it. So frustrating.

Amidst the babbling sounds, Yan Kuan went through the motions for a while before sinking into a deep sleep. Just before his consciousness faded, he silently said to himself: Hello, 1980.

1980, the Gengshen Year. The twenty-first century's millennium was twenty years away, and Beijing Welcomes You would come even later, in 2008, after the millennium.

"Son, Dad's off to work! Don't miss me too much!"

After the crib stopped rocking, the door clicked softly shut. Having finished another round of forced performance, Yan Kuan silently looked down at his pitiful little thing.

"At least it didn't get flicked off. Otherwise, this guy's waiting for me to pull his oxygen tube later!"

Yan Kuan silently resolved in his heart: if something amusing like a father-son falling-out ever happened, it definitely wouldn't be his fault. The instigator would be his good-for-nothing dad.

"Little Kuan Kuan, are you hungry again?"

A soft, gentle voice sounded behind him. The door opened again, and Yan Kuan's mother, wearing a bright red dress, came in and picked him up. Her hands roamed everywhere, even stuffing his fist into her mouth as if she wanted to eat it.

Yan Kuan's mother was barely in her twenties, a first-time mom with a big playful streak. She loved finding new ways to tease him and never let up, often keeping him from resting. But since she always filled his belly, the little kid decided to let it slide.

The red fabric against his body wasn't very comfortable. At this time, Zhonghua had yet to take off, and conditions were poor across the board—food, clothing, housing, transportation—none of it was great. Still, compared to earlier years when even filling your stomach was a problem, this was pretty decent.

Yan Kuan's family was average. From the furniture, you could tell their living conditions were just passable: an electric fan, a radio, a thermos, a flashlight... All these items had sharp edges and a metallic sheen, prioritizing function over form.

Yan Kuan wasn't disappointed with his home environment. After all, getting another life was a dream many sought but couldn't achieve.

When his consciousness had first cleared, after a brief moment of panic, fear, and confusion, his heart had been bursting with joy.

The early 1980s—if his memory of various events didn't fail him, he had decades of foresight. This era was just beginning, standing at the wind's edge with endless opportunities. Even a pig could become a flying pig.

Yan Kuan had already imagined himself later saying, with great swagger, "I have no interest in money." With his foreknowledge, he was already cheating at life. Succeeding shouldn't be too hard, and as for the problems caused by butterfly effects, he was confident he could handle them.

Thinking this, Yan Kuan silently touched his forehead. A faint, flame-shaped red mark glowed softly, and a flicker of firelight flashed in his eyes.

This life, he was a cheater too. With foreknowledge and supernatural advantages, even if a butterfly effect led someone to make a move on him, he could handle it easily. Maybe later, he'd live the brilliant life of an urban soldier king.

Yan Kuan daydreamed about all this, when suddenly his tiny body was lifted up. His mother's voice rang out again, "This kid, are you hungry again..."

"(▽｀) This mom, she's a keeper!"

Yan Kuan looked up. His body's instincts told him nutritious things were worth eating more of. In the end, he had no choice but to follow his body's will and be a greedy child.