Transmigrate to 1996 and Protect My Loved Ones

I touched my grandmother's silver bangle, a treasured keepsake, and transmigrated back to 1996. It was the year before she died, and I was still a first-year middle school student with my hair in two ponytails.

My whole family said I'd suddenly grown up:

I rushed to empty Grandma's chamber pot and warm her bed every day.

I pestered the clinic doctor to teach me massage techniques.

I even used my New Year's money to buy the last can of malted milk powder at the supply and marketing cooperative. Grandma stroked my braids and smiled. “The Bodhisattva sent you back to be with me for the last part of my journey.”

On the night of the twenty-third day of the twelfth lunar month, she suddenly clutched my hand. When the whole family crowded into the dim back room, Grandma used the last of her strength to press my cold fingertips against her face.

Outside, snow reflected the moonlight, and the pair of silver bangles glimmered beside her pillow.