Reborn: I Am the Patron

Tang Weidong lay on the hospital bed, staring up at the ceiling. The fluorescent light overhead made his vision blurry, making the ceiling seem both infinitely distant and oppressively close, as if it were pressing down on his chest, taking his breath away. He knew his end was near. It's said that when death approaches, one can sense it. He didn't know how others felt, but he was certain he could feel it now—he was about to die. Looking back on his life, he'd been the object of envy in childhood. Though born in the countryside, both his parents were state-owned enterprise workers. In an era when work units oversaw every aspect of life, from birth to death, a dual-income family was highly coveted by rural folk whose dreams revolved around mere survival. In the 1990s, when his mother retired, he took over her position, becoming a "glorious" state-owned enterprise worker. Unfortunately, the good times didn't last. Caught in the wave of state-owned enterprise restructuring, he "gloriously" became a laid-off worker, and his life was rewritten. To make a living, he tried everything: sales, truck driving, taxi services, business ventures, and street vending. He didn't earn much, but he was grateful to have avoided starvation, even managing to buy a house and a car with loans—proudly joining the ranks of "mortgage slaves" and "car slaves"—and married, having children. Yet this bound him to a heavy yoke of life, leaving him permanently hunched under the burden. Years of overwork had long exhausted his body; reaching his seventies was a blessing from his family's genes. Now, death felt more like a release. Tang Weidong lay there, his once-sturdy frame now shrunken into a heap. The single hospital bed, once ordinary, now seemed as vast as an ocean. He heard voices beside him, straining to listen but unable to make out the words. It didn't matter anymore. The Ox-Headed and Horse-Faced Demons would come for him soon. Soon they'd be separated by life and death, never to meet again. Let others say what they would. As the moment of departure drew nearer, Tang Weidong wanted one last look at the world he'd inhabited— the world that had given him happiness and joy, as well as exhaustion and sorrow. Summoning all his strength, he took a deep breath and forced his eyes to move. His son sat on a stool by his right side, hands on his knees, eyes red—from grief or lack of sleep? His daughter-in-law stood beside his son, one hand resting on his shoulder in silent comfort. On the stool to his left sat his granddaughter, holding his withered hand and rubbing it against her cheek, her eyes swollen from tears. "Good granddaughter, all the love I gave you was worth it," Tang Weidong thought, a faint, invisible smile crossing his face—if he even managed a smile at all. Behind the granddaughter, leaning against the wall, stood his grandson. Huh, the boy had grown so tall, surpassing both his father and grandfather. The grandson braced his hands against the wall behind him, head bowed, eyes filled with profound sadness. Tang Weidong felt a sudden lift in his spirits. Despite the boy's usual carefree attitude, he was Tang Weidong's genetic legacy, carrying his bloodline—a living proof that he had existed in this world. At the foot of the bed stood his wife, chattering endlessly. So that's who was talking—probably complaining again. After a lifetime of bickering, he didn't need to guess her words. The thought made him suddenly smug, wanting to laugh out loud. He'd never won an argument with his wife, bullied by her all his life, but now he'd be the first to leave. Let her try to argue with him now! If she wanted to bicker, she'd have to dig up his grave! Hahaha, the thought made him laugh inwardly, happier and happier. Though lying motionless in bed, expressionless and silent, he was laughing uproariously in his mind, feeling as if he were floating higher and higher. Suddenly, the granddaughter burst into tears, and his wife's complaints stopped abruptly. Tang Weidong knew it was time—he was leaving, bidding a final farewell to the world, never to return. Thunder crashed outside the window, and the rain drumming on the roof, windowsill, and water * (water vat) sounded like a symphony, jolting Tang Weidong awake. It had all been a dream. In the dream, he'd traversed endless darkness, only to wake as an infant. Was he Zhuang Zhou dreaming of being a butterfly, or a butterfly dreaming of being Zhuang Zhou? Which was real—past life or present? When he woke again, some memories in his mind became startlingly clear, his thoughts unusually sharp... Tang Weidong couldn't describe it—reincarnation, a phenomenon rarer than a meteor hitting the earth, had happened to him. If he'd known he could be reborn, he would have learned more skills, ready to unlock "cheats" and reach life's peak, marrying a wealthy beauty. But alas, his past life had been that of an ordinary man. Skills with real value—electrical repair, mechanical manufacturing, internet programming—those "gold mine" abilities were all beyond him. The only skill he had was driving, but it was useless in this era. By the time he grew up, drivers would be as common as dirt! Poor Tang Weidong, reborn half a mile behind the starting line... No, he did have an advantage over others: decades of advanced knowledge, an understanding of historical trends, and insight into where the winds of opportunity would blow. If he could just be the pig standing at the ** (wind gap), he could live comfortably this time. He cheered himself on. No longer wanting to toil his whole life as he had before, Tang Weidong finally found his ambition: to be that pig at the **. "Ride the wind's might to soar to the clouds." He didn't seek great wealth or glory; his biggest wish was to enjoy life, making up for past regrets. No more being a slave to mortgages, cars, his wife, or children—this time, he'd live for himself! As for now? He was too young. His grand ambitions faded, and with his resolve set, Tang Weidong fell asleep again... "Slap!" A hand smacked his butt, jolting him from his dream. He opened his eyes to see his mother—so young and beautiful, even more stunning than in the old photos. When was the last time he'd seen her? Ten years ago? Twenty? He couldn't remember clearly. The last time, she'd been a wrinkled, white-haired old woman, and he'd seen her off at her funeral. Seeing his mother again filled him with joy. In his past life, he'd been emotionally