In front of the blue house-number plate at No. 95 Nanluoguxiang, Hou Chu stares at his calloused hands, dazed. In his previous life, he wasted his days in a library until he was twenty-six. Now he opens his eyes to find himself in clothes two sizes too small, patched over and over. I don't know this rundown courtyard, but since I'm here, I can't possibly live more miserably than I did in my previous life.
