The winter of 2008 was bone-chilling, but even though the Olympics had ended more than five months ago, folks in Beijing were still all about staying fit. Only, nobody was into jogging in that deep freeze—the hottest craze? Winter swimming.

Yeah, that’s right. In the middle of a freezing winter, a whole bunch of people were diving into the water at Kunyu River near the South Ruyi Gate of the Summer Palace. That spot was legendary in Beijing for winter swims. Word had it that back in the day, the Empress Dowager used to hang out there. Some people even claimed they’d found pearl pendants and jade trinkets in the river. That kinda mystery? Way more appealing than the swim itself.

Theobald Collins was feeling pretty smug too. Guy was 67, retired from a lifetime of desk work. He wasn’t exactly in great shape—a bit flabby, real soft around the edges. Since retiring, he’d had a lot of time on his hands. So when a few old buddies suggested trying something trendy, he figured, why not? The plan was to swim under the ice for a bit, then head to Donglaishun for hotpot and baijiu with the boys.

Theobald was a true Beijinger, born near Wang’ershan in Qinjia Valley. He’d led a mostly uneventful life, nothing flashy at work either—just a quiet guy who did his job and treated people right. Anyone who knew him would always give him a thumbs-up.

He’d never been married, no kids, lived alone his whole life. Not that he was unattractive or anything was wrong with him physically. He used to be a division chief at Beijing Municipal Public Security Bureau, retired with deputy department-level benefits. Solid background. But he chose to remain single to take care of a father who drank too much and a mentally disabled younger sister.

Both passed away last year, one after the other. It hit him hard. Since then, he’d been holed up at home reading, carving wood, and sipping on cheap liquor. Sometimes he wouldn’t step outside for a whole week. That’s why his buddies dragged him out today—to shake things up.

Now, standing there wearing nothing but a pair of faded blue trunks, Theobald shivered as the wind cut across the riverbank. Regret kicked in hard. At his age, what was he thinking? Should’ve just stayed home under the heated blanket.

He glanced around. Loads of old men had shown up. Even two elderly ladies in bright red swimsuits stood out in the middle, surrounded by gray-haired flirts acting like show-off peacocks. Only instead of fancy feathers, they had wrinkled red faces.

Theobald stepped onto the ice, crouched down and dipped his hand into the hole. The water felt surprisingly warm, not cold at all. He wasn’t about to stick around playing audience, so after a quick nod to his buddies, he dove in with a splash, drawing cheers from the crowd.

But underwater, Theobald couldn’t hear a thing. He kicked hard, swimming deeper into the murky depths—when suddenly, a flash of light caught the corner of his eye.

And just like that, he remembered the old rumors about antiques buried in this river. Maybe...

Without a second thought, he swam toward the light.

As he got closer, his jaw practically dropped. No kidding—the glow came from a pearl lodged in the mud. He dug it out with his fingers and stared at it. The thing was perfectly round—an Eastern Pearl.This pearl wasn’t your average one—it was an East Pearl, only found in the Songhua and Heilong Rivers, and it was rare as hens' teeth. A gem this big? Only the royals could wear such a thing on their crowns.

Theobald Collins was over the moon, ready to swim back when the pearl suddenly shot out a flash of white light and zipped into his palm. Before he could react, a force yanked him straight down into the river.

He blacked out instantly.

Back on the frozen river, his old pals waited for him to resurface. But all that floated up was his bright blue swim trunks. They freaked out and called for help. Rescuers searched for over ten days with no luck. Theobald Collins became the first winter swimming disappearance of the year, scaring off others from taking the plunge. Kunyu River suddenly turned quiet…

…

When Theobald came to, he realized he wasn’t anywhere familiar. The sun was shining, the air was fresh, and the place looked about as big as a soccer field. All he could see was a courtyard and some black soil—but strangely, not a single soul in sight. Not a bird chirp or a dog bark, just wind rustling.

The silence unsettled him. He got up and rushed to the entrance of the courtyard. The red doors stood wide open. He shouted a few times, but no one answered.

He slowly stepped into the courtyard, rounded the decorative doorway, and spotted an old well. The well looked untouched by time, with moss along the edges and a wooden bucket resting nearby.

He checked every corner—nobody. No signs of life. The rooms—main, side, and wing—were all bare, not even a single chair.

Defeated, he slumped down near the well, pulled up a bucket of water, and leaned over to take a drink—only to jump back in shock.

A face stared back from the water—young, clear-eyed, familiar. Looking closer, it was his own face… but from when he was seventeen or eighteen.

It spooked him enough to stumble backward. He glanced down at his arms—they were thinner, the age spots gone—and his hands looked white and smooth. He was wearing gray thermal underwear, stamped across the chest: “Model Worker” with small print below reading: “Red Star Steel Plant.”

He knew that undershirt. His dad, Mortimer Collins, had it handed out from the factory.

Still trying to make sense of it all, Theobald suddenly heard a voice calling out—it was young, bright, and weirdly familiar. He jolted toward the door, instinctively, but in the blink of an eye, the whole scene vanished.

Next thing he knew, he was lying in bed with a heavy quilt over him. The smell on the quilt hit him immediately—it was his own scent, no mistake.

Just as he was processing that, someone lifted the curtain. A fuzzy little head peeked through.

Theobald’s eyes went wide—he felt like lightning had struck—then he shot straight up from the bed.A little girl skipped in with a big grin on her face. She looked about three or four years old, with delicate features that were almost doll-like. If she were a bit chubbier, she’d be downright adorable. Her tiny face was red from the cold, wrapped up in a bright red knitted scarf over a blue floral cotton coat.

Theobald Collins couldn't hold it in. Tears streamed down his face as he jumped off the kang bed and scooped her up in his arms, sobbing uncontrollably.

It was her—his baby sister Nina Collins, exactly how she used to be when she was little. It had been such a long time.

Nina looked startled and frantically tried to wipe away his tears.

Theobald suddenly turned to look around the room. Everything felt eerily familiar. The bookshelf, the kang table, the small desk, the two wooden stools, and even the clock on the wall. This was clearly the layout of the side room at his old home.

He and his younger brother had shared this room for over ten years. After his brother was sent to the countryside as a rusticated youth, he’d moved to the main room to take care of their dad, and this room became Nina’s.

A wild idea popped into his head. Holding Nina, he rushed to the wall calendar.

Only a few pages had been torn from the thick calendar. The date on it stood out—December 28, 1958, lunar November 10. Exactly fifty days before Chinese New Year.

Theobald gave a heavy snort and sat back on the kang bed, still holding his sister. It all made sense now—he had been reborn.

It was the end of 1958. His mother still had three years to live, and Nina wouldn’t suffer brain damage for another four. There was still time to change things.

Nina kept wiping his tears with her little hands, deeply concerned. Theobald was overwhelmed with emotion and leaned in to kiss her cheek, but before he could, she turned and shouted, "Ma! Big bro's awake! Ma! Big bro woke up!"

Theobald jumped. Her voice was so loud it made his ears ring.

Footsteps approached, the curtain lifted, and in barged his mother, Emma Brooks, bustling in as always. She tugged off her arm warmers as she climbed onto the kang to search for something.

Just as Theobald was about to throw himself into her arms, thrilled to see her again, Emma pulled a broom head from under the bedding and started whacking him without warning.

"You little brat! How many times do I have to tell you—stop swimming in the river with Daniel and the boys! It's freezing out there! You trying to catch your death?!"

Theobald yelped after two solid hits and had to let go of Nina, bouncing around the bed trying to dodge. His mom had never held back with her beatings.

"Ma, Ma! Stop, stop! I won’t do it again! I promise!"

That old line slipped out without him thinking—he hadn’t said it in decades, but it was engraved deep in his bones. Those two hard smacks really stung, and the words just came out.

"You little punk! If I don’t beat the nonsense outta you today, you’ll never learn your lesson!"

A few more hits landed, making him cry for real. She was hitting hard—but weirdly, that just proved this wasn’t some dream.