The Chen apartment in Queens smelled faintly of soy sauce, laundry detergent, and old carpet. The narrow hallway creaked under every footstep. Two bedrooms, one cramped living room, and a kitchen barely wide enough for one person—this was the empire of the Chens.
Michael stepped inside, the hospital band still on his wrist. The apartment felt both familiar and alien. The faded floral wallpaper. The plastic-covered sofa. The stack of unpaid bills on the dining table.
In his past life, Li Wei had lived in high-rise apartments with glass windows and elevators that whispered. Now, he was back in a place where every dollar had to be stretched until it screamed.
"Sit, sit," his mother urged, bustling toward the kitchen. "You've been sick. You need food."
"I'm fine, Mom," Michael said, though his stomach growled loud enough to betray him.
His eldest sister, Anna, emerged from her room with a baby balanced on her hip. At twenty-seven, her sharp eyes had grown harder than they should for her age. She had taken on the role of second parent since their father's death.
"Good," she said flatly. "You're alive. Now maybe you can help around here instead of adding to the bills."
Michael raised an eyebrow. "Nice to see you too, Anna."
She snorted. "Don't get smart. You know Mom's been working double shifts. The rent's late again."
From the couch, Lily, the second sister at twenty-five, sighed dramatically. "Anna, can't you give him a break? He almost died." She sprawled across the cushions, fanning herself with a magazine. "Maybe this is fate's way of telling us our brother is destined for something great."
Michael blinked at her. That's one way to describe a reincarnation.
Mei, the youngest, popped her head out of her bedroom. At eighteen, she had a mischievous grin that never seemed to fade. "Destined for what? More interviews that go nowhere? Please. Maybe he should come work with me at McDonald's. We're hiring."
The room burst into laughter—except Anna, who looked like she was considering it seriously.
Michael forced a chuckle, but inside, he sighed. His sisters' teasing was sharp, but he couldn't blame them. Michael Chen—the man whose body he now inhabited—had been a disappointment. Brilliant in school, praised as the family's hope, yet after graduation he'd crashed into the brutal reality of the job market. Every rejection letter had chipped away at him until he was just another unemployed kid with big promises.
"I'll get a job soon," Michael said. "I promise."
Anna shot him a look. "That's what you said last month. And the month before that."
His mother emerged from the kitchen with a steaming pot of congee. She set it on the table with tired hands. "Enough. He needs rest, not scolding. We'll manage somehow."
But Michael could see the purple shadows under her eyes, the lines etched into her face from years of stress. His chest tightened. In his past life, he hadn't been able to ease his parents' burdens before they passed. He wouldn't repeat that mistake.
They gathered around the table. Dinner was simple—congee with pickled vegetables, a dish stretched thin to feed five people. Yet as they ate, the familiar banter filled the air.
"Michael," Mei said, mouth full, "if you don't get a job soon, I'm going to start charging you rent for using my room as a closet."
"Your room?" Michael scoffed. "Last I checked, this was still Mom's apartment."
Mei grinned wickedly. "Fine, then I'll charge you for breathing my air."
Lily laughed so hard she nearly spilled her bowl. "Careful, Michael. She's ruthless."
Even Anna cracked a small smile before catching herself. "Don't encourage them. We can't afford jokes."
Michael leaned back, watching them. For the first time in years—maybe lifetimes—he felt something warm at a dinner table. In his old life, meals had been lonely affairs eaten in office cubicles. Here, there was noise, chaos, family.
He swallowed, determination rising in his chest.
"I'll take care of this," he said firmly. "Just give me some time."
Anna shook her head. "Words. Always words."
But Michael didn't argue. Because this time, it wasn't just words. He had the future in his head, and that was worth more than any degree or resume.
Later that night, when everyone else had gone to bed, Michael sat by the window with a notepad and pen. The hum of traffic outside mixed with the faint shouts of kids still playing on the street.
He started scribbling.
Step 1: Build capital.
Current funds: $312.87 in savings. Pathetic. Not enough to buy a decent computer, let alone make serious investments. He needed a starting point. Odd jobs, tutoring, maybe even swallowing his pride and working at Mei's McDonald's for a month or two.
Step 2: First investments.
Intel. Microsoft. AOL. Cisco. These were the giants about to awaken. Even a few hundred dollars in the right place could grow tenfold within years.
Step 3: Connections.
Jeff Bezos would soon leave Wall Street to start Amazon in a garage. Jobs was still exiled from Apple, tinkering with NeXT. Larry Page and Sergey Brin were just grad students at Stanford, still years away from founding Google. He had to find a way into their orbit.
Michael's pen scratched across the paper faster. The plan was ambitious, insane even, but it was possible. He knew the future.
He paused, looking down at his shaky handwriting.
"This is it," he whispered. "No more wasted chances."
He leaned back, exhaling slowly. For the first time since waking up, the crushing despair of Michael's old failures began to lift.
He wasn't just some unemployed graduate anymore. He was Li Wei, a man who had lived through the rise and fall of empires.
Now, reborn in 1994, he was about to write a new story.
The next morning, the apartment was already buzzing. His mother was up at dawn, tying her apron for another shift at the restaurant. Anna was coaxing her baby to eat while simultaneously lecturing Lily about job applications. Mei rushed out the door, late for school.
Michael sat at the table with a bowl of cold cereal, notebook open beside him.
Anna caught sight of it. "Another plan? Spare us."
Michael smirked. "Not a plan. A roadmap."
She snorted. "You sound like a motivational poster."
But Michael didn't rise to the bait. He chewed thoughtfully, eyes drifting to the small stack of bills on the counter. Electricity. Rent. Medical. All overdue.
In his past life, those numbers would have been abstract—just expenses filed away under corporate budgets. But now, each one was a ticking bomb threatening to crush his family.
No. He wouldn't let that happen.
He folded the notebook, tucked it under his arm, and stood.
"Where are you going?" Lily asked.
"To start changing our luck," he said simply.
Lily rolled her eyes, Anna muttered something under her breath, and Mei shouted from the door, "Don't forget to bring back fries if you get a job at McDonald's!"
The apartment filled with laughter again.
Michael shook his head, but a smile tugged at his lips. Their doubts didn't matter. Because unlike before, he had certainty in his bones.
This time, he wasn't chasing dreams.
He was building an empire.