Chapter Two: Worlds Apart
The old man and the doctor stepped out of the hospital room and had just turned into the corridor when they saw a young man sitting in a wheelchair by the room’s door. The nurse behind him wasn’t holding onto the wheelchair’s armrests, clearly indicating they had stopped there. The man had a cast on his left hand and right foot, with a bandage wrapped around his head, looking like a survivor of a disaster. This was the father of the child in the ward, the son of the elderly man—Xiao Siqi.
The doctor glanced at the man, shook his head, and walked away. The old man, however, stood in front of the young man and softly asked, “Why don’t you go in?”
The man’s eyes were red, his body trembling slightly, as he choked out, “I heard Ba Yi woke up, so I asked the nurse to wheel me over. But as soon as I got to the door, I heard Ba Yi asking about his mother. I... I don’t dare to go in. I’m afraid the child will ask me for his mother.”
The old man placed a hand on the man’s shoulder, gently squeezing it as he tried to comfort him. “It was that big truck ahead that suddenly changed lanes, causing your car to lose control and crash into the guardrail. It was an accident, beyond your control. It’s not your fault.”
The man said, “I know, but can the child understand that? He’s so young—can he really grasp it? After all, I was the one holding the steering wheel.”
The old man pondered for a moment and smiled. “I think your son might actually understand.” Then he continued, “It’s only been a few months since you last saw him, but I noticed Ba Yi has made great progress. His speech is logical and well-structured. Having gone through such an ordeal, he’s sad but neither crying nor throwing tantrums. He doesn’t behave like a three-year-old child but more like a little adult. He’s much more sensible than most kids his age. Looks like you’ve done a good job raising him.”
The man shook his head, smiling bitterly. “Dad, don’t you remember? You once criticized me for still being a child myself, not grown up enough to take care of one. At home, all I do is sing to Ba Yi or play with him. It’s Zilin who has been responsible for his education.”
“Zilin, huh? What a good girl... such a pity,” the old man sighed. “Marrying someone like Zilin was truly your blessing. But it seems your fortune isn’t that great now.”
Looking at his son’s current state, the old man felt he wasn’t quite fit to see the child yet. He patted his son’s shoulder and comforted him, “Don’t blame yourself. But in your current condition, it’s not good for you to see the child—it might upset him. You should go back for now and come back when you’re feeling better. Or I can bring the child over to see you later.”
Inside the room, only Li Hao remained. He breathed a slight sigh of relief and began to examine his surroundings. Although he retained some memories of Ba Yi, most were about the three family members, offering little help in understanding the current timeline he inhabited. He didn’t even know the year or month.
Climbing down from the bed, he rummaged through it and, to his delight, found a tablet computer. This discovery thrilled Li Hao—accessing information online is one of the quickest ways to get comprehensive knowledge in modern society.
What puzzled him was that the tablet was from a brand he had never seen or heard of before. Still, the power and volume buttons bore familiar icons. Holding down the power button, the screen lit up normally.
“Probably some unknown knockoff brand, otherwise it wouldn’t have been left lying around in the hospital room so casually,” Li Hao guessed. But when the startup animation finished, he realized the operating system wasn’t Android, iOS, or Windows. The desktop icons were all unfamiliar.
“Did I get my hands on some geek’s custom DIY tablet? Or is this a completely different world?” As a seasoned reader of online novels, Li Hao had no trouble accepting the reality of his transmigration. Words like “alternate world” or “parallel dimension” were familiar to him. He clicked on a globe-shaped icon, resembling Earth, and sure enough, a browser opened.
Although this browser’s interface differed from any he knew, the address bar and bookmarks looked similar. Glancing at the bottom right corner, he saw a segmented fan-shaped icon that looked like Wi-Fi—it indicated the tablet was connected to a wireless network.
Sure enough, there was no Baidu or Google, but a search engine existed, along with a pinyin input method—though none he recognized. This confirmed he was indeed in another world. The question was how similar or different this world was from the one he came from.
After more than half an hour of effort, Li Hao had a rough understanding of this world.
Historically, the early eras were identical—primitive and feudal societies, dynasties, and figures were the same. The divergence appeared in modern times, about a century ago, when the revolution that overthrew the Qing dynasty was led not by Sun Yat-sen’s faction, and it didn’t happen in the Xinhai year. Different people, at a different time, led the revolution, creating a somewhat different subsequent history.
Still, the differences were not drastic. Although names of people and events changed, the progression was similar—warlord conflicts, resistance against Japanese aggression, civil war, and eventually founding the nation. The country remained communist, made mistakes in the following decades, corrected them, and focused on economic development. Mostly, it was just a matter of different names.
This reminded Li Hao of a TV series from his past life featuring Earth-1 and Earth-2—two worlds with heroes, villains, and ordinary people. A hero on Earth-1 was an ordinary person on Earth-2, while another hero was a villain. Among ordinary people, a tough cop on Earth-1 might be a gentle bar singer on Earth-2. Though characters changed, most buildings and institutions were similar, just with different founders or leaders.
Li Hao’s two worlds resembled this scenario somewhat. What surprised him, and differed from the show, was that their technological development wasn’t synchronized. It was only 2002 here, yet a tablet computer existed—about ten years ahead of his previous world’s timeline.
Having sorted out the history, Li Hao wanted to explore more about this world, but footsteps echoed by the door. Hastily, he stuffed the tablet under the pillow on his bed and leaned against it casually.
The elderly man who had left earlier entered, carrying several food containers, clearly bringing food for his grandson.
“Grandpa!” Having accepted his new identity and world, Li Hao found calling him “grandpa” not difficult.
“Ba Yi, hungry? Here, Grandpa brought you food. Eat it while it’s hot.” The old man pushed the bedside table over the bed and placed the food containers on it.
Li Hao felt the body was indeed very hungry, so he didn’t hesitate to grab the chopsticks and start eating ravenously.
“Oh, Ba Yi’s chopstick skills are quite good. Not bad at all.” The old man glanced with some surprise at the spoon that Li Hao ignored, then smiled happily watching him eat with chopsticks.
Li Hao was still adapting to this body. A thirty-year-old soul controlling a three-year-old body naturally felt awkward at times. But for a child of that age, being able to feed himself without being spoon-fed was already commendable; finishing a meal with a spoon was praiseworthy, let alone eating with chopsticks.
Li Hao hesitated briefly, recalling the scene of the beautiful mother teaching the original body owner to use chopsticks, then replied with a tone of certainty, “Mom taught me.”
Hearing the child mention his mother, the old man’s joyful expression faded into sorrow. Concerned, he softly asked, “Child, your mother has gone to heaven. Do you blame your father?”
The old man immediately regretted asking. Though the child knew what death meant, at this age, he likely couldn’t understand a car accident or assign responsibility. His question might backfire.
Li Hao recalled the last memories of the original Ba Yi. Though a child couldn’t fully grasp what a car accident was, the vivid memories of the event were preserved. He saw the entire crash unfold. Responsibility lay with the large truck that changed lanes abruptly without signaling. The man in the driver’s seat—the nominal father—had made no mistakes.
“I know. It was that big truck ahead that suddenly changed lanes without signaling and slowed down abruptly. Dad crashed trying to avoid it. It’s not his fault.” Since it wasn’t the nominal father’s fault, Li Hao didn’t want the old man to worry and answered plainly.
The old man, who hadn’t hoped for much, was a bit speechless hearing this. He looked at Li Hao with an incredulous gaze. “Signal lights? Changing lanes? You know what those are? Did your mother teach you that too?”
“Uh-oh,” Li Hao thought to himself. How could a three-year-old know that? Then he realized that no matter how well he pretended, he couldn’t be perfect. And he wasn’t eager to live the next ten-plus years pretending to be a child—it would be exhausting. He should act a bit more precocious to gain more autonomy and do what he wanted.
“Yeah,” Li Hao nodded. “Mom and I were sitting in the back seat. I once asked about the blinking lights on the back of passing cars. Mom told me those were signal lights, used when a car turns to warn the vehicles behind. The lines dividing the road are lanes, meant to separate cars. When moving from one lane to another, you should use the signal light too. Mom said I was smart—once taught, I understood and remembered.”
In his memory, Ba Yi and his mother had quiet conversations in the back seat, with music playing softly and the father driving up front, unaware of their words. Now that Mom was gone, no one knew exactly what they talked about, so Li Hao just made it up.
The old man was speechless. This kid was way too clever. But he was his grandson, the seed of the Xiao family; he should be happy. Returning to his original intent, he said, “Ba Yi, since you understand, can you go comfort your father? He’s feeling very guilty, thinking it’s his fault your mother died, and he can’t face you.”
“Ah?” Li Hao felt conflicted. Honestly, he barely knew his current family, only fragments of Ba Yi’s life. Comforting someone was something he didn’t know how to do yet.
Fortunately, the old man added, “But your father isn’t in a good emotional state now. Let him be alone today. I’ll bring you to see him tomorrow, okay?”
“Okay,” Li Hao nodded. He needed time to organize his memories and figure out how to soothe his complicated father.