Sitting in the back seat of a luxurious SUV with bulletproof windows, Wu Xiaoming took the last bit of time to go through the information he collected throughout his 3-day hospital stay.

The fifty something old man driving the vehicle was named Wu Wentao, his “father”, a former action star, now half retired at home.

The slightly older man in the passenger’s seat was named Wu Xiangyu, his “older brother”, a successful businessman. He owned a winery, this was the most memorable information in “his” head.

He had a younger brother named Wu Qizhi, who was still in college and did not make it here to see him.

He himself, or the body he currently occupied, was a 25 year old young man also with the name Wu Xiaoming. He checked out this body the second day in the hospital, and it would seem that not only did they share the same name, they also shared a lot of very similar characteristics - age, height, face, hair color, hand size, feet size and even the locations of a few birth marks. It was safe to say his mind landed in “himself” in a parallel universe. As for the “original” mind of this body, he had probably already perished due to drug overdose. 

The residual memory in this body was quite blurry, he could probably dig up more when he recovered better and had more time. And right now, being freshly discharged, having some memory lapses here and there would probably be perfectly explainable.

“Qizhi doesn’t know, yet.” Wu Wentao sighed and looked at Wu Xiaoming through the rearview mirror: “But there’s no guarantee he wouldn’t see it on the news. He might have already seen it. We will tell him it’s fake paparazzi bullshit. If he asks you, you tell him the same thing, okay? He really looks up to you.”

“No - no problem.” Wu Xiaoming nodded, still not very used to how fluent and accentless his verbal English was: “Thank you - da - dad.”

Wu Wentao sighed, and continued driving.

The scenery from outside the window surely was nothing like the streets and cityview he remembered before. In fact, this was not China, but Los Angeles. And not even the same Los Angeles from his world, because back where he came from, there was definitely no city called “Haoliwood”.

“You up for some pizza? We’re on our way to your favorite place.” His father asked.

“I - ” Wu Xiaoming was still mostly himself and not whoever that once occupied this body, pizza did not sound bad but was not on his mind right now: “Can I have some Chinese food? Real - I mean authentic Chinese food.”

Wu Wentao and Wu Xiangyu both paused for a moment, as if Wu Xiaoming just uttered something absurd. After a while, Wu Wentao asked: “Are you sure?”

“Yeah. I want some warm soup, tea. And maybe a steamed fish.” Wu Xiaoming nodded.

“Well, I know just the place.” Wu Wentao chuckled and switched lanes.

Lianxiang Garden, a Hong Kong style restaurant/hotel. Wu Wentao and Wu Xiangyu were clearly MVPs here, as they were greeted by waiters with wide smiles and friendly salutations of “Boss Wu”.

“Check out the menu and tell us what you like, little Xiaoming.” Wu Wentao smiled: “And - Xiangyu, relax. Your younger brother is here with us. Be happy for him.”

“Yes, of course.” Wu Xiangyu’s cold, stern face squeezed out a smile: “Order anything, Xiaoming, our treat.”

“I - I don’t know what’s good.” Wu Xiaoming was still timid. There was absolutely no memory in his head of him eating this kind of Chinese food. It was as if the dead Wu Xiaoming had been avoiding it on purpose: “You guys can order for me - just not too much, I can eat but I don’t think I have a big appetite right now.”

“Okay.” Wu Wentao nodded, then announced to the waiter in impeccable mandarin: “Get me a big coral grouper, three ways. Soup, congee and light stir fry.”

“Roast duck, two ways.” Wu Xiangyu chose his order, in a slightly accented Mandarin.

Never would have Wu Xiaoming guessed that his first time eating coral grouper would be in Los Angeles. The taste did not disappoint. He finished half a plate of fish chunks stir fried with snow peas and celery, two bowls of congee and one bowl of soup. Both Wu Wentao and Wu Xiangyu seemed surprised and delighted.

“When did you start eating Chinese food?” Wu Xiangyu asked, smiling gently.

“I - I don’t know.” Wu Xiaoming scratched his head. The nerves caught up to him. He still had to act like the Wu Xiaoming before he overdosed lest he raise suspicions. “But - I just felt like it.”

“It’s okay. The taste of home is always soothing.” Wu Wentao snapped his fingers at the waiter to get the check.

“You’ll stay with me for a few days. Just to rest up.” When they got back to the SUV, Wu Wentao announced, warmly but firmly: “I can keep an eye - I mean take care of you. Xiangyu’s in town for a few more days, we can spend some time together. Maybe we can fly Qizhi back when you’re feeling better.”

“I … I think that’s a good idea.” Wu Xiaoming had no reason to refuse. Nor could he find a way to get out of this arrangement. He didn’t know anyone, he had no money. Moreover, he had much more pressing concerns.

“Hmm.” Wu Xiangyu raised his eyebrows as he fastened his seatbelt: “I thought you’d want to go back to your place.”

Wu Xiaoming’s place would be an apartment somewhere inside the city of Los Angeles. He was behind on rent, and the place was kind of a mess if his memory served. “No - I - I - uh, want to spend some time with you as well.”

Wu Wentao’s house definitely showed how successful he once had been, maybe still was. It was a three storey house with a well mixed design of traditional Chinese architecture and some modern arrangements. Dark red tile roof, red beams, white exterior paint, and an arch as the general entrance through the enclosing walls around the building. Most impressive of all, was that it was inside a rather large gated community built on a giant hill top. Beverly Hills, even as someone who had never been to America before, he knew this was one of those rich people and celebrity places.

“I see you removed that giant needle on the roof.” Wu Xiangyu chuckled at his dad: “Don’t wanna deal with the complaint?”

“Well…” Wu Wentao shrugged: “The Fengshui master did tell me it would be too sharp for an old man like me. ”

“Ehh.” Wu Xiangyu waved his right hand: “I still think it’s just kinda ugly.”

“Not as ugly as your car.” Wu Wentao scoffed with a grin: “Hand crafted exterior looking like a black coffin.”

“Italian style. Old-timey mob bosses loved it.”

Wu Xiaoming found his room with his father’s help. Old action movie posters on the wall, a decorative katana in the corner, an electric guitar or bass sat at the foot of the bed, and a trophy on the book shelf. Familiar, but embarrassing - this was what his latent memories told him to feel. But honestly for him, it was just spacious and comfortable. The whole room probably had more raw footage than the entire apartment he rented before the truck.

“Your room is clean and kept like before. Take a shower, rest.” Wu Wentao patted Wu Xiaoming on his back: “We’ll be out here. Call us if you need anything.”

Wu Xiaoming looked around the room. It sorta fitted what he understood about this Wu Xiaoming guy before he took over this body. A child actor with mediocre success, grown to be a troubled action actor with barely enough training and not one single hit under his name. If not for his father and his father’s connections, his career probably would have ended a long time ago. But also thanks to his repeated futile attempts at break throughs, the audience seemed to have boxed him in certain roles, while he pissed away almost all the wealth and resources he gained from being a child actor. Right now, he was not much more than a not very good actor with well known drug problems and some possibly not very useful connections.

Wu Xiaoming took a shower, from his own bath in his own room. The weakness in his muscles and joints still lingered, after days of treatment and recovery. He was tired, it was like he could fall asleep the moment his head would touch the pillow.

Yet, falling asleep would just be another venture, he learned as much when he was in the hospital.

Dried hair, comfortable, loose clothes. He took a deep breath before he closed his eyes.