Chapter Sixteen: A Strange Encounter

In the blink of an eye, several days slipped by. During this time, though bedridden by illness, Yang Luo racked his brains for ways to stir things up.

He began by exposing Shengyi through online communities.

Yang Luo posted on every app he could—Weibo, Zhihu, Douban, Little Red Book, Bilibili, Douyin—detailing how, while suffering from a terminal illness, he was threatened and forced to resign by his company.

He had thought the power of online public opinion might make the company relent, perhaps even sit down to negotiate. But before he could ignite any uproar, his posts were all rejected and his accounts suspended.

The reason: “Spreading false information and damaging social morals.”

Suddenly, Yang Luo recalled overhearing a conversation between the operations and planning teams back when he was at the company. According to them, Shengyi spent billions each year on PR to maintain its public image…

Back then, he’d paid little heed. Now, looking back—

So that’s where those billions in PR funds went?

Helpless, Yang Luo could only become a tireless poster, registering accounts on forums only to have them deleted one after another. He also recounted his story under trending, unrelated topics, always ending with: “Please help share this, thank you!”

It was all in vain. His accounts and IPs were all banned, and his health worsened from the constant stress and exhaustion—the stabbing pain in his chest grew more intense. Yet perhaps his persistent efforts were finally noticed, as the company raised its compensation offer.

“Eighty thousand. How about it?” the team leader asked breezily over the phone. “That’s the highest amount I’m allowed to offer. Any more, and internal audit won’t approve it—even if I wanted to.”

This time, Yang Luo deliberated for a long while. At last, clutching his aching chest, he made the hard choice to accept.

“All right,” he said.

He logged onto the employee website with temporary access, submitted his resignation request, and it was approved almost instantly. Not even the standard one-month transition period was required—the speed was startling.

“So eager, are they?” Yang Luo laughed bitterly.

It truly was a big company. Less than three hours after his resignation, he received a bank notification that the eighty thousand yuan had already been deposited.

What came along, ironically, was a spam text advertising “diversified wealth management, XX Bank helps you achieve financial freedom…”—a dose of black humor.

Yang Luo ignored it, put away his phone, and requested discharge from the hospital.

“Are you sure you want to leave?” The doctor in the office looked at him in surprise.

Yang Luo’s face was pale, and he could barely sit upright, but he braced himself against the wall and nodded resolutely.

“But… you know, our hospital’s chief surgeons are very skilled. In your condition, if you recover well after surgery, you could live another five or six years. With the best imported medication and a healthy lifestyle, perhaps even seven or eight years or more!”

“The best imported medication…” Yang Luo managed a weak smile.

“Doctor, did you know?” he said. “The greatest incurable disease in this world is poverty.”

The doctor stared at his unwavering eyes for a long moment, then sighed, signing the discharge form.

“Discharge approved.”

Yang Luo returned home from the hospital.

Other than some painkillers, emergency medication, and his phone, he brought nothing with him.

Home was, in truth, merely a rented apartment. The home he’d bought was still unfinished; too far from the company, and with no spare money for renovations, it remained an empty shell. So he continued living in this apartment, just three subway stops from his old job.

He’d lived there for eight years.

Looking back, it felt like a lifetime ago.

What had he gained in those eight years? Yang Luo asked himself, managing only a wry, bitter smile.

All his posts had been deleted, his accounts locked. He no longer had anything to do with the company.

And aside from the company, he had no real ties to this city—no familiar places, no close friends.

His work at Shengyi had allowed him to survive in this lonely city, but it had also driven him to exhaustion, until everything was destroyed in the end.

He had never been so clear-headed. Nor so hopeless.

He checked his bank account. Including the severance he’d just received, he had a total of 180,000 yuan.

—And there was still the apartment on the outskirts. Not long ago, he’d arranged to sell it through an agency. Though the mortgage wasn’t fully paid off, they’d found a buyer who could clear the loan for him.

But after settling the mortgage, all that would be left was 530,000 yuan.

“Five hundred and thirty thousand,” Yang Luo sighed.

He remembered well: his down payment alone had been 1.2 million. Not to mention, property prices in that area had only gone up.

“…Still, at least there’s something. I can’t afford the mortgage anymore; my parents can’t help either. If I defaulted, I’d lose everything.”

At this point, Yang Luo let it go.

“That’s that, then. Altogether, 710,000 yuan—enough to support my parents for many years.”

Everything was settled.

A few days later, Yang Luo found himself on the Qingyuan River Bridge at the edge of Qingxia City.

A brisk breeze swept the bridge, the sunlight was gentle, but there were few people around.

This was the old district, long abandoned, rarely visited.

Standing on the bridge, Yang Luo watched the rippling water, gripping the railing for support just to keep from collapsing.

A single breath sent sharp pain lancing through his heart, his vision twisting and blurring.

“The cancer’s probably spreading now,” he thought.

“…But it’s time.”

He recalled the scheduled message he’d left for his parents, planning for them to hear it after his death.

“…Dad, Mom, your unfilial son is about to leave you.

“I have cardiac sarcoma—a malignant, terminal tumor.

“…The company gave no real compensation, just eighty thousand yuan to dismiss me. Shengyi is a place that devours people… But by the time I realized it, I’d already been devoured.”

“Dad, Mom, I’ve left all my money for you—seven hundred ten thousand in total. The bank card’s in my room, the address is… The card number and password are…

“…Don’t worry, after I die the police will investigate; there’s also a letter in my desk with the same contents as this message…”

“…I’m sorry, Dad. Mom.”

The sunlight scattered golden rays across the water.

If he jumped, the river would surely bloom with golden ripples.

Yang Luo gazed, entranced.

His body leaned over the railing, tipping forward.

But just then, a strange sound reached his ears.

It was low, resonant—emanating, it seemed, from deep within the body, not at all like a human voice.

“Are you planning to kill yourself?”

“Yes,” Yang Luo replied softly.

“I have an incurable illness. I won’t last much longer. What’s the point of not ending it now?

“…I’d rather die early, so at least my family gets some money.”

“Then, if there were a chance to cure your illness, even become someone extraordinary, would you want it?”

The voice was cold and emotionless.

“Someone extraordinary…”

Yang Luo laughed.

“Just being cured… That’s a luxury I don’t dare wish for, let alone becoming ‘extraordinary.’

“…But if I could, of course I’d want that.”

His voice dry, Yang Luo glanced around.

The bridge was empty—no one and nothing in sight.

He shook his head helplessly. It must have been a hallucination.

Bracing himself, he climbed over the railing and leapt toward the river below.

—His life was about to end.

But in that instant, a huge black shadow flashed in his blurred vision.

—A black eagle, wings outstretched!

The moment he plunged toward the river, Yang Luo saw the shadow swoop toward him, and at the same time, a blood-red gleam shot from its beak straight into his body.

The next moment, Yang Luo hit the water.

In the freezing river, a searing power exploded within him.

At the same time, a voice, majestic as a god, rang through his mind:

“—I grant you this chance!”