In 2025 I got a letter dated 1987 — my grandpa died in a factory accident back then, when my grandma was only 25, raising my dad all alone. I cried myself to sleep, and woke up back in 1987. Standing at the alley entrance, I saw the young man in blue work clothes riding a black 28-inch bike — my grandpa, even more handsome than in the photos. And next to him, the girl with the braided pigtails was 25-year-old grandma. I only had one mission on this trip: rewrite his death date. Watch free on Palmbox.
