Chapter 1

On New Year's Eve, my wife took our son, who had recovered from cancer, to attend a live gala.

The host played my recorded blessing.

I said, "Scarlett, son, I wish you both good health, happiness, and a long life.

My wife gave a cold laugh.

"How funny, what right do you have to bless us?"

Everyone knew that during the hardest year—when my son had cancer, my wife was borrowing money everywhere, and life was at its worst—I abandoned them.

Now my son had pulled through, and my wife had achieved success in her career.

But they both hated me.

My voice continued to play.

"In the new year, make sure to eat on time. Scarlett, you have a weak stomach, so don't drink soup during meals..."

My wife interrupted impatiently.

"Just go. I don't want to listen. Getting his blessings on such an auspicious day might bring me bad luck for a whole year."

The host hesitated for a moment before speaking.

"Ms. Byrd, this is Mr. Hudson's last wish."

"His last wish?"

My wife, Scarlett Byrd, was stunned for a moment, then let out a cold laugh.

"He died? That's really a relief. What great news!"

The host looked at her, wanting to say something but held back, then pointed at the big screen nearby.

My face appeared on the screen.

I stood on the bridge in the picture, watching the mighty river flow past. I was alone, filled with sadness.

A gentle, soft female voice sounded, sincere and warm.

She said, "Hello, we are a documentary team capturing stories from all walks of life. This time, our theme is 'Make a New Year's Wish'..."

I block the camera in front of me with my hand, my face pale.

"Stop filming. I just want to be alone."

The woman spoke sincerely, "I understand you must be facing difficulties right now, but things will get better. Make a New Year's wish, and we will do our best to help you achieve it."

These scammers really found their way into everything.

I turned to look at the woman filming with the camera.

I said, "Really?

"My son is dying, and so am I. If I make a wish with you, will we survive?"

The woman suddenly froze.

I tugged at the corner of my mouth, intending to leave.

I said, "Stop wasting your effort on me. My wish is something you can never fulfill."

She grabbed me just as I was about to leave.

"Sir, you have to trust in modern medical technology. We will do our best to help you as well. Are you short on money? How much do you need to save a life?"

I said, "Money?"

I looked her up and down before suddenly laughing.

"Your coat costs just over 30 bucks, your pants 20 bucks, and your shoes... You're struggling yourself. How are you supposed to help me?

"Do you know how much it costs per day to stay in the ICU? I do. Just having the machine keep you alive costs 1,500 a day.

"Do you know how much the initial surgery alone costs for both me and my son?"

I made a gesture to the camera. "200 thousand dollars.

"For two people, that's 400 thousand dollars. My wife and I have borrowed from all our friends and family, and we could only put together 100 thousand dollars. We're still far short. This kind of money isn't something you can get through wishes alone."

The woman paused, her breathing unsteady.

I stopped talking to her and walked slowly through the rain in the direction of the bridge.

I didn't stop until I saw a small advertisement on the electric pole ahead.

The woman followed with the camera raised. As she turned the camera's lens, she aimed it at the ad on the pole, which had only one simple sentence.

"High-interest loans, 100% guaranteed approval. Solve your urgent needs! Even late payments are no problem. Our professional team is here for you."

I tore down the small advertisement.

The woman immediately tried to stop me. "This sort of thing is obviously a scam."

"100% guaranteed approval, and even late payments are no problem? That sounds even more fake. They just want you to take out a high-interest loan, and there could be other tricks involved. You really shouldn't fall for it."

"I know." I tore up the flyer in my hand. "But some people might believe it, so I tear up every one I see.

"One dead end is enough for a person—too many, and it'll drive you mad."

She looked at me in surprise.

I turned to her. "Stop following me. There are many people in the world who need your help, people who need the media to speak up for them. Don't waste your time on me."

My hand covered the camera lens.

The screen faded into darkness.

It was 3.36 PM, November 13, 2023.

"Filming videos can generate income. If the video conversion rate is high, it might cover the medical costs."

While I was handing out flyers part-time, the woman who had filmed me before suddenly stopped me.

"How did you find this place?"

She still tried to persuade me.

I turned to leave, but she followed, showing me her phone screen.