Chapter 1: Time Train

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On the eve of the Lunar New Year, Chen Qiao, wrapped in a black trench coat, walked alone down the street, holding his phone, streaming live outdoors.

“Later at midnight, I’ll watch the fireworks with the brothers in the live stream. The countryside doesn’t have much, but we can enjoy fireworks freedom.”

Chen Qiao had delivered takeout, run a street stall, worked as a net cafe manager, written novels, and labored in a factory. Eventually, he started gaming after work and casually opened a live stream, not expecting it to grow. His audience swelled, and he became a signed streamer.

Every day, he chatted with his viewers, jokingly airing his old, embarrassing stories, sometimes singing classic Cantonese songs. Being a native of Guangdong, he had that vibe.

He quit his job to stream full-time, but soon hit a “streaming winter.” His contract was up for renewal, with pay now tied to gifts rather than viewer count.

His stream’s brothers were there for companionship, not cash. He didn’t encourage gifts either—platform cuts were brutal, and if a minor’s payment got refunded, he’d lose money on fees. Already earning little, a single chargeback could mean a day’s work for nothing.

This was his last stream of the year. After the New Year, he’d return to the factory, back to screwing bolts.

No matter what he did, he was always late to the game, joining industries at their tail end, when competition was cutthroat. Just his luck.

The streets were festive, adorned with lanterns, firecrackers popping endlessly, and occasional fireworks blooming in the night sky. The New Year spirit seemed strong, but Chen Qiao felt hollow. Had he changed, or was it the world? It just wasn’t as fun as childhood New Years.

“Brothers, this is the old shady net cafe I used to visit. It’s a factory for umbrellas now. Back then, there was a small grocery store out front, and next door, a room with computers, door locked tight. Super discreet, no fear of parents or teachers catching us. The owner was a woman, a single mom with a daughter, a cute little girl, maybe a year or two younger than me. She’d drag a stool over, sit beside me, and watch me game. Man, I was clueless back then. Only now do I regret it.”

The first part was true, but the rest was Chen Qiao’s embellishment. Truth be told, he didn’t even know the owner or her daughter’s names.

Who wouldn’t want a quiet girlfriend by their side while gaming, her scent lingering, maybe a little playful chaos? No, that’d be even better.

Having written novels, Chen Qiao was skilled at spinning half-true tales. Stories of a childhood desk-mate, a college student teacher in the countryside, or a widowed cousin-in-law—his viewers knew some were fake but loved his dramatic regrets. Weren’t they just like him, after all?

As a small-time streamer, no one bothered to call him out. Sometimes his stream title was “Story Time,” where he’d share viewers’ tales too.

“Here’s my old elementary school. Barely any students left now.”

Chen Qiao greeted his old homeroom teacher, now the principal, and got permission to visit.

The school had changed drastically. The old, unsafe building from his school days was gone, replaced by a flag-raising plaza and stage.

“This building was under construction when I was a student. Never studied in it before graduating. Always missing the mark. Now it’s the oldest, most run-down teaching building, used to store broken desks and chairs.”

Memories flooded back. Elementary school was Chen Qiao’s golden era. His dad wasn’t in jail yet, his mom wasn’t sick, and he had a notorious delinquent cousin, knowing enough tough guys that no one dared bully him. His grades were decent too, though he was always compared to his smarter older sister, forever overshadowed.

Oh, and there was his female desk-mate, a bit dark-skinned, named Lin Na, maybe? He’d added her QQ from the graduation album.

They never chatted, but he saw her post hand-drawn anime art, evolving from crude scribbles to decent sketches, then professional design drafts. She’d clearly joined the workforce, her childhood dreams left behind.

“Thanks for the gift, sis…”

Didn’t he say no gifts? Better to send him a direct red packet. Gifts got taxed and cut by the platform.

The chat went wild, buzzing with excitement.

“Sis is here.”

“Big Sis energy.”

“I want Sis, not you, pig-faced streamer.”

“Step on me, Sis…”

These disloyal punks. The “sis” was Chen Qiao’s actual sister, Chen Feifei, a doctor at the county’s top hospital. After going full-time as a streamer, Chen Qiao moved back to the county to live with her. Small-town expenses were low, so even with little income, he ate well, drank well, slept well.

Feifei’s voice and silhouette often popped into streams. When Chen Qiao stepped away for a bathroom break or to grab takeout, she’d even briefly take over. Viewers demanded her, shouting for a new host.

He let her stream for an hour once, his best-performing stream ever, but it wasn’t sustainable. The novelty wore off, and she ran out of content. He was better at playing the clown, with her occasional appearances as a bonus.

The chat started shipping the siblings, some even doubting they were related, suggesting they were a couple. But the forbidden sibling angle was juicier. People will ship anything.

As Feifei entered the stream, Chen Qiao’s backup phone rang. It was her.

“Chen Qiao, it’s New Year’s Eve, and you’re not home yet?”

“Sis, I’m streaming.”

“I know, I’m in your stream. Look at the time! It’s almost New Year. Get over here.”

“I’m at the elementary school.”

“What’s there to see at that ghostless school? Look at me instead. A home without me isn’t home. Be here in half an hour.”

“You’re on hospital duty again?”

“Yeah, it’s just you and Xin Yu as my family now. I swapped shifts to be free. Bring Xin Yu, and we’ll celebrate, eat something.”

Chen Xin Yu was his cousin’s daughter. That cousin was a deadbeat—dropped out, smoked, drank, stole wires, a local hoodlum. He got a girl pregnant, paid for an abortion, then fled to Shenzhen for work, never returning.

But the girl kept the baby, even wanting to marry him. He refused, and his stingy, gambling parents wouldn’t pay a dowry. The child stayed, and the girl remarried elsewhere, never coming back.

Xin Yu couldn’t even afford junior high fees. Chen Qiao and Feifei helped her through university. She excelled, getting into a top school, unlike Chen Qiao’s bottom-tier one, and worked to cover her own expenses. All the family’s conscience seemed to live in her.

Chen Qiao used to hang out with that cousin, playing retro games together. Life was unpredictable. He’d been a good student, a good kid, yet here he was, still a virgin.

‘If I could live again, I’d make my little brother worth something! Be a beast.’

Just a fantasy. This was probably it for him.

Leaving the school, Chen Qiao walked down a long slope to the street. Like many schools, this one was built on a graveyard hill.

At the street corner, by a school speed-limit sign, a petite figure in a pink down jacket shivered, rubbing her hands and breathing warmth.

This was a town under Beijiang City, Guangdong, near other provinces. Winter here was chilly, with occasional snow on the hills, a rare treat for Guangdong.

“Little Uncle, Happy New Year, though it’s a bit early.” Chen Xin Yu tilted her head.

“Didn’t I say call me Brother? Here’s your red envelope.”

Chen Qiao pulled out a prepared red envelope, slimmer this year due to tough times.

“Hehe, thanks, Brother.”

Xin Yu’s sweet, goofy smile was a joy. This was why you worked hard.

He reached to pat her head but stopped, realizing she wasn’t the snotty, mud-playing kid anymore. To his surprise, she leaned in, nuzzling his rough palm.

“Brother?”

If Chen Qiao had a wish, it was for a little sister. That was impossible now. A daughter? Maybe a slim chance.

“Did you buy new clothes? Why wear the old ones? Isn’t that the jacket I got you last year?” Chen Qiao checked her collar.

“It’s not worn out. I only wear it coming home for New Year. Buying more is wasteful.”

“You’ve worn that outfit for two, three years, right? You’re the one needing new clothes. Look, there’s a hole here, feathers leaking.”

Xin Yu pointed at his arm, likely torn at the school.

“I’m not a kid. I don’t need new clothes.”

“I’m not a kid either.”

“Then let’s be kids together. Tomorrow, we’ll shop with Sis at the market. Might get a deal.”

It was a childhood trick—buy clothes on the first day of the New Year for discounts. With better times and online shopping, they rarely bothered now.

“Let’s go, get in the car.”

“Should I call姑姑 ‘Sis’?” Xin Yu asked, buckling up.

“Call her wrong, and I can’t save you.”

Women were touchy about titles, especially older ones.

Chen Qiao’s stream stayed on. Since Xin Yu appeared, the chat exploded.

“A sister too? What a winner.”

“She’s practically his daughter. Born lucky.”

“Gotta drive, brothers. Logging off, back later…”

Even offline, viewers kept chatting in the blacked-out stream, cursing with envy or waiting for him to return.

The road to the county was rough, full of potholes, tough to navigate. Overloaded trucks were common, but tonight, New Year’s Eve, it was quiet.

The car played “Ten Years” by Eason Chan. At his age, the song hit differently now.

A strange sound reached Chen Qiao’s ears. Turning off the music, it grew clearer.

“Xin Yu, hear that? Like a train, clackety-clack.”

“No. Our county doesn’t have trains yet. They’re planning one, but who knows if it’ll be done before I graduate college. Would make travel easier.”

“Am I hallucinating from lack of sleep?”

Chen Qiao rubbed his temples, restarting the music. A blinding beam hit the car, so bright he couldn’t see.

“Yah! Brother, what’s that?”

Xin Yu, startled, clung to him.

A steam train, like something from another time, roared from the sky, puffing steam, turning night to day. Trees along the road stood vivid, gears thundering like lightning.

“I don’t know.”

Chen Qiao yanked the wheel 180 degrees, floored the gas, but the rough road and old car couldn’t outrun the celestial train.

He felt a jolt from behind, a devouring light enveloping them.

Was this how his life ended, absurdly, in a blur?

Chen Qiao let go of the wheel, holding Xin Yu tightly. At least he’d protect this child…
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