Darkness.
A ringing in his ears. The muffled sound of a woman crying. Then, the sharp sting of disinfectant burned his nose.
Li Wei's eyes flew open. A ceiling stared back—white tiles cracked and yellowed with age, the glow of a fluorescent tube buzzing weakly overhead. His chest heaved. He remembered—a subway accident, Beijing, 2024. Brakes failed. People screamed. Metal screeched. Then, silence.
Yet here he was, alive.
"Michael? Michael! You're awake!"
The voice belonged to a woman, middle-aged, weary, her face carved with lines of exhaustion and grief. She rushed to his side, clutching his hand with trembling fingers.
Michael?
Li Wei blinked. His throat was dry. His tongue stumbled over words. "Wh… who?"
The woman—her hair streaked with gray—pressed his hand to her cheek. "Don't scare me like that, son. You were out for two days. I thought—" Her voice broke.
Son.
Li Wei's gaze darted around the hospital room. Peeling paint, clunky equipment, the smell of bleach and iodine. His eyes landed on a tray. Resting on it was a folded New York Times. He reached for it with shaky hands.
The date screamed at him in bold print: August 12, 1994.
His breath hitched. "Nineteen… ninety-four…?"
His reflection glimmered back faintly from the dark window. It wasn't his face. Gone were the crow's feet and weary eyes of Li Wei, the 35-year-old financial analyst from Beijing. Instead, a younger face stared back—sharp jawline, smooth skin, unmistakably Chinese-American.
Memories surged, not his but his.
Michael Chen. Twenty-three years old. A computer science major at NYU. Father died of a heart attack in his freshman year. Mother working herself ragged in restaurants and laundromats. Three sisters—Anna, Lily, and Mei—each pulling the family in different directions. He had graduated months ago, burdened with loans, yet jobless.
Li Wei clutched his head as two lifetimes merged in a storm of images. Michael's failures, his regrets, his hope of lifting his family from poverty. And Li Wei's own memories—endless nights in glass skyscrapers, stock portfolios, the meteoric rise of Amazon, Microsoft, Google, and Apple.
It hit him like lightning.
He had died in 2024, but been reborn in Michael Chen's body… in 1994.
The woman—his mother now—squeezed his hand tighter. "Michael… your father would want you to fight on. You're all we have. Don't give up."
Her words pierced his chest. In his past life, Li Wei had been single, consumed by work. His parents passed while he was too busy climbing corporate ladders. He had always regretted never being there.
This time… things would be different.
He swallowed, forcing his voice steady. "Mom… I'm fine. Really. I'll make you proud."
Tears welled in her eyes as she nodded.
Li Wei lay back against the pillow, his mind racing. 1994. The dawn of the digital age. Netscape, Yahoo, eBay… Bezos hasn't even started Amazon yet. Apple is limping. Microsoft is about to explode with Windows 95.
If fate had given him a second chance, then he knew what he had to do.
A crooked smile tugged at his lips.
"This time… I'll seize it all."
The next morning, he left the hospital with his mother. The air outside was heavy with summer heat, thick with the smell of hot dogs and car exhaust.
Queens, New York. The streets were dotted with yellow cabs, boxy cars, and payphones. Men in baggy suits rushed past with briefcases, women in neon workout gear power-walked, and kids crowded around a corner arcade.
Li Wei's jaw slackened. The sight was surreal. No smartphones. No Starbucks on every corner. No one scrolling endlessly on glowing screens. Just newspapers, Walkmans, and pagers.
"This is insane," he muttered under his breath.
His mother gave him a confused look. "What did you say?"
"Uh, nothing. Just… good to be back," he said quickly, earning a puzzled frown.
As they boarded the bus back home, Li Wei caught his reflection in the smudged window. He wasn't Li Wei anymore. He was Michael Chen, a broke immigrant's son in America.
But unlike Michael, he had twenty-nine years of future knowledge.
Back in their cramped apartment, the familiar chaos of family life descended immediately.
The eldest sister, Anna, stormed over, arms crossed. "About time you woke up. Do you know how much that hospital bill is? Are you trying to bankrupt us?"
"Don't start," Lily groaned, flopping dramatically onto the couch. "He just woke up. Maybe this is a sign. A rebirth! Michael will finally do something useful with his genius brain."
Michael rubbed his temples. "Thanks for the vote of confidence, Lily."
Mei, the youngest, peeked out from her room, smirking. "Big brother, since you're alive, maybe you can start paying rent instead of hogging the sofa."
The room burst into laughter—except Anna, who looked like she wanted to smack him.
Michael forced a grin, though inside he sighed. His sisters were relentless. But their teasing lit a fire in his chest.
"Don't worry," he said, his tone sharper, steadier than ever before. "Give me time, and I'll change this family's fortune."
Anna rolled her eyes. "Sure. Heard that one a thousand times."
Lily chuckled. "Yeah, last time you promised, you ended up crying after that IBM interview."
Mei snorted. "Face it, bro. You're all talk."
Michael's lips curled into a sly smile.
If only they knew.
That night, after the apartment quieted down, Michael sat by the window with a notepad. Streetlights cast an orange glow over the page as he scribbled furiously.
Priority 1: Build capital.
He had maybe $300 in savings. Pathetic. But if he invested in the right stocks—Intel, AOL, Cisco—they'd skyrocket within years.
Priority 2: Connections.
He needed to insert himself into the circles of future legends. Bezos, Jobs, Page, Brin. Even a tiny role early on could turn into billions later.
Priority 3: Family stability.
His mother was exhausted, his sisters frustrated. If he could ease their burdens even a little, he'd win time to build.
He paused, tapping his pen. His lips twitched into a smile.
"Tomorrow, we start."
For the first time in years—maybe lifetimes—Li Wei felt hope. Not the fragile kind, but a burning certainty.
The future was his playground now.