Traveling back to 1966, starting by living in a cowshed.

Chapter 150 Wang Dajun

Let's rewind to three hours before the TV series started...

Wang Dajun was driving his recently purchased Toyota sedan, his body swaying slightly.

The gleaming car body shone coldly under the streetlights, like a docile black horse, moving unhurriedly through the endless stream of traffic.

Wang Dajun held the steering wheel firmly with one hand, his fingers unconsciously tapping a rhythm on the leather steering wheel.

With his other hand resting on the car window, a cigarette was held between his fingers.

The car radio was playing Zhao Yazhi's classic old song, "A Thousand Songs," a song by the top female singer of Zhonghua Records.

The melodious tune, carrying Zhao Yazhi's clear yet tender voice, flowed through the speakers and filled the small car!

"Looking back slowly, at the nights that once belonged to us..."

"Drifting on a distant road, who will gaze upon me in the future..."

Wang Dajun hummed along, his voice not exactly melodious, but it carried a heartfelt sense of contentment.

He squinted slightly, a smile playing on his lips, his gaze sweeping across the street scene outside the window—various signs flashing with neon lights.

There were also young men and women strolling hand in hand on the street.

Over the past few years, he has amassed a considerable fortune by trading electronic parts in mainland China. This Toyota sedan is his prized possession, which he acquired just last month.

Every day I drive it through the streets and alleys of Hong Kong, listening to my favorite songs and watching the city's prosperity.

Wang Dajun always felt that life was like the songs on the radio—sweet and full of hope.

Just as he was getting into the swing of singing, a short, crisp "beep beep beep" sound suddenly came from his waist, breaking the pleasant atmosphere in the carriage.

"Hey, who's here?"

Wang Dajun muttered something, his smile undiminished. He freed one hand, rummaged around at his waist for a moment, and pulled out the black pager clipped to his belt buckle. (I don't know what this thing is called in Hong Kong, so I'll use the mainland name.)

This thing is no longer a rarity in Hong Kong, and it's not as expensive as it was a few years ago. It's also become quite common now.

He held the steering wheel with one hand, his eyes quickly scanning the small screen of the pager.

The message contained only one short line: "Dajun, call back immediately, Huazai."

"What's up with Hua Zai now?" Wang Dajun raised an eyebrow, muttering to himself.

He and Andy Lau are childhood friends, practically inseparable. From elementary school to high school, they were deskmates and so close they could even share a blanket.

After graduation, we went our separate ways and saw each other less often, but we never lost touch.

He glanced at the road ahead and saw a red public phone booth not far away. The glass door was sparkling clean, and the phone inside looked to be working.

Wang Dajun turned the steering wheel and steadily parked the car in the empty space next to the phone booth. He then pulled the handbrake, opened the car door, and got out.

A cool evening breeze blew by, and Wang Dajun wrapped his jacket tighter around himself and strode into the phone booth.

He took out a few coins from his pocket, and first habitually picked up the receiver to listen. After confirming that there was a dial tone, he pressed the phone number that Andy Lau had left on the pager.

"Beep—beep—"

The phone rang twice before being answered quickly. Andy Lau's familiar, booming voice came through the receiver, with a slightly boisterous quality: "Hey? Who is this?"

"Who else could it be but me?"

Wang Dajun replied with a smile, leaning against the glass of the phone booth, his tone relaxed, "Hua Zai, this is Dajun."

What do you want from me, kid?

I was driving and listening to music, feeling really cool, when your pager-like call woke me up completely.

"So cool, my foot!" Andy Lau laughed and cursed on the other end, but his tone revealed an irrepressible excitement.

"Come to my house right now! It's urgent! It'll be too late if you're late!"

"What's the big deal? Isn't it too late?" Wang Dajun raised an eyebrow, his curiosity piqued.

Andy Lau is usually a very easygoing person, so anything that can excite him this much must be extraordinary.

"Don't ask! You'll know when you get here! Hurry up! I'm waiting for you at home!"

Andy Lau's voice was somewhat urgent, and he hung up the phone with a "click" after speaking.

Wang Dajun listened to the busy tone coming from the receiver, smiled helplessly, and shook his head.

That kid is still the same as always, always leaving things unsaid and keeping people in suspense.

He hung the receiver back in its place, put the remaining coins back in his pocket, and turned to walk out of the phone booth.

Back in the car, Wang Dajun started the engine, turned the steering wheel, and drove towards Hua Zai's house.

Andy Lau's family lives in the old neighborhood of Yau Ma Tei. The roads there are not as wide as those in the bustling city center. On both sides are old-style buildings that are crowded together, and the ground floor is full of stalls selling fruit, newspapers, and snacks. It's very lively.

The car wound its way through the narrow alleys and soon stopped in front of a very old building.

Wang Dajun turned off the engine, opened the car door and got out. He looked up and saw Hua Zai standing on the second-floor balcony waving at him, his smile dazzlingly bright.

"Dajun! This way!" Andy Lau shouted at the top of his lungs.

Wang Dajun responded and quickly walked into the stairwell.

The hallway was dimly lit and filled with a damp, musty smell and the aroma of food. The handrails of the stairs were worn shiny.

With each step, you could hear a "creak, creak" sound.

He climbed up to the second floor with practiced ease and knocked on Andy Lau's door.

The door was quickly opened, and Andy Lau's excited face appeared behind it.

He was wearing a plaid shirt, his hair was a little messy, but his eyes were shining with excitement. He grabbed Wang Dajun's arm and pulled him into the house.

"You've finally arrived! Any later and we would have missed it!"

Wang Dajun was pulled so hard he stumbled, and said, not knowing whether to laugh or cry:

"Andy Lau, what exactly are you up to? You're being so secretive."

Andy Lau didn't say anything, but pulled him to the refrigerator in the living room, opened the refrigerator door with a "bang", and took out a can of beer.

With a "snap," the tab was pulled open and handed to Wang Dajun: "Have a beer first to quench your thirst!"

Holding the cold beer can in my hand instantly dispelled some of the heat from the journey.

Wang Dajun tilted his head back and took a big gulp. The cool liquid slid down his throat, carrying the aroma of malt, and he sighed with pleasure.

He wiped the beer foam from the corner of his mouth and looked around Andy Lau's living room.

It's the same as always: a small space with an old sofa and several yellowed posters hanging on the wall.

The corner was piled with stacks of newspapers and magazines, making it look a bit crowded.

Andy Lau opened a can of beer for himself, sat down on the sofa, took a sip, and then looked at Wang Dajun.

His tone was a mix of emotion and barely suppressed excitement as he spoke:

"Dajun, do you know that the novel 'A Step into the Past,' which we used to read every day in high school, is going to be adapted into a TV series tonight!"