Mrs. Carter threw herself at the bedside, gazing intently at “Brian Carter,” unable to contain her excitement. “Little Eric, you’re finally awake! Mom just knew you were blessed and would pull through!”

Grace Sullivan stood in a daze, only now noticing the strangeness around him—the look of the hospital room, the sophisticated equipment, the unfamiliar clothing of these people...

Mrs. Carter held his hand and asked, “Little Eric, how are you feeling? Are you cold? Does anything hurt?”

On the other side, Alice Carter muttered, “Could this be a last burst of lucidity before death?”

Mrs. Carter: “Oh, don’t jinx your brother!”

“Hey,” Alice Carter called out, “Brian Carter, are you really okay?”

Grace Sullivan heard the name clearly. He didn’t understand why everyone was calling him that, and denied it: “I’m not Brian Carter.”

Mrs. Carter smiled gently. “What silly things are you saying?”

Grace Sullivan repeated himself, “You’ve got the wrong person. My surname isn’t Chu.”

“All right, all right.” Mrs. Carter looked at him with doting affection. “From now on, you can take Mom’s surname, Yang. As long as you’re safe and sound, anything is fine.”

Grace Sullivan withdrew his hand, suppressing a wave of unease inside. He spoke almost solemnly, “Madam, I don’t know you. I’m not your son.”

Everyone hesitated for a moment, then began whispering among themselves. Mrs. Carter stood there in shock, her joy instantly turning to worry. David Thompson went to fetch the doctor, and everyone gathered around the bed, waiting for the latest diagnosis.

After the examination, the doctor tried to ask some routine questions, but the only answers he got were “I don’t know” or “I don’t remember.”

Finally, the doctor asked, coaxingly, “If you’re not Brian Carter, then what’s your name?”

Grace Sullivan was clear-headed and very cautious. He didn’t know which side these people—including the doctor—were on, or what kind of risks he might face if he revealed his true identity.

Grace Sullivan shook his head and chose to remain silent.

The doctor said to the family, “It’s most likely amnesia. As for the exact cause and extent of the damage, we’ll need to do a detailed examination tomorrow.”

Mrs. Carter was unwilling to believe it. “Amnesia... Can people really lose their memory?”

The doctor said, “Yes, in 2018 our hospital had a very similar case—after waking up, the patient remembered nothing.”

Grace Sullivan was stirred and asked, “Excuse me, was that in 1918?”

“Uh.” The doctor was momentarily speechless, then answered seriously, “That was the twentieth century. We’re in the twenty-first century now.”

Grace Sullivan was stunned, so shocked he couldn’t show any expression. He couldn’t even process what “the twenty-first century” meant.

How could this be possible?

He had drowned and lost consciousness, and upon waking, had somehow ended up decades in the future?

It was too absurd. Was this a dream? He closed his eyes and opened them again, but everything and everyone around him was so real.

Beyond the reality, everything was so unfamiliar.

Grace Sullivan habitually raised the back of his hand to his forehead. As his hand lifted, the blue agate between his fingers glimmered faintly. If not for this ring, he would have doubted who he even was.

Seeing how weak he was, the doctor asked everyone to leave the treatment room and spoke privately with the family about some precautions.

Once everyone had left, Grace Sullivan propped himself up halfway on the bed. On the nightstand were a few magazines and a copy of the city evening newspaper. He opened it up and saw line after line of simplified Chinese characters.

Clinging to a sliver of hope, he searched for the publication date, but the numbers confirmed the doctor hadn’t lied.

So... Grace Sullivan hurriedly flipped to the military and current affairs sections, reading every word of the day’s news without missing a single character. He saw some key words... leaders, policies. The more he read, the clearer it became, his gaze glued to the page, unable to look away.

The newspaper slipped from his trembling fingers. Grace Sullivan no longer cared about appearances, slumping motionless as his emotions surged.

The war was won, times had changed.

In the span between life and death, more than half a century had truly flown by.

He was still in a daze when Mrs. Carter quietly came back in. The night had been so exhausting that she had no energy left to deal with anything else. After sending everyone away, she just wanted to be alone with her son.

“Lie down properly now.” Mrs. Carter helped Grace Sullivan lie down, then sat on the edge of the bed, reaching out to smooth Grace Sullivan’s hair. “Black hair looks best on us Easterners. You’re so fair, you take after me in that.”

Perhaps she was too tired, for Mrs. Carter’s tone was gentle, making Grace Sullivan reluctant to interrupt.

So Mrs. Carter stayed by his side, confiding, “You were abroad for over a year and never called once. Every time I tried to reach you, you said I was annoying. Now you’re back in the country and went wild with your rowdy friends, not even coming home. You’re so heartless. I promised to sell my shares, and you wouldn’t even have a meal with me.”

“When the yacht exploded, I was scared out of my wits when I got the call. Maybe being a mother just means a lifetime of worry and hardship.”

Mrs. Carter sniffled and sighed, “The doctor said there’s a chance you’ll recover. I’m not worried. I’m just grateful you woke up. Now, just remember that I’m your mother, all right?”

Grace Sullivan listened in silence, a wave of sorrow rising in his heart. Was his own mother, far across the ocean, just as worried about him? But now, his mother and sister were probably long gone.

Grace Sullivan’s eyes reddened at the corners, and he clenched his teeth tightly.