The 1970s: My Strength Increases by 150 Kilos Every Day

This story is entirely fictional. Please don't take offense if anything seems inappropriate.

Lin Wanxing was jolted awake by something hard digging into her.

Beneath her was a rock-hard wooden plank that creaked and groaned with every sway of the carriage, setting her teeth on edge. A jumble of smells filled her nostrils: sweat, cheap tobacco, food gone sour overnight, and a faint whiff of urine. Together, they formed the dizzying, distinctive odor of a green train carriage in the 1970s.

But what truly made it hard for her to breathe were the two tiny, fever-hot furnaces pressed against her chest.

The little ones were about two years old and looked exactly alike. Their small faces were flushed red with fever, while their lips were dry and peeling. The child on her left whimpered unconsciously, its little voice already hoarse, managing only a breathy “huh... huh...” The one on her right clutched a bit of fabric at her chest, breathing rapidly and shallowly, each pant carrying a worrying heat.