这四合院 familiarity hit him square in the face. The air itself felt heavy, thick with what smelled like dust and something else—something vaguely of age, like old furniture sitting in the sun too long.

"Yo, buddy," a voice called out from the narrow hallway. The sound belonged to old Man Liu, leaning against the wall near the broken gate, pipe dangling from his lips like a老是 proboscis. His eyes, red-rimmed, flickered over him. "What ya doin' loiterin' here? Still ain't got yo own place?"

How did he even get here? The last thing he remembered was—wait, no, that wasn't it. This wasn't his body before. His body? This whole mess wasn't his.

Hesitantly, he stepped forward, ignoring the way the worn soles of his布鞋 creaked. The hallway was just wide enough for two people to barely brush past. Past the clutter of forgotten shoes and hanging laundry, past the half-open door where Mrs. Gao was bustling, arms full of something that looked suspiciously like last week's trash.