Jennie Yang slightly bowed in front of the camera with a solemn expression, “I’m sorry, Miss Guo Yingying, please allow me to apologize to you again. My son has hurt you and he has paid with his life. I have already made the necessary civil compensation. I’m sorry that I can’t help you find your birth parents. The Little Angel Children’s Charity Foundation is committed to helping children from zero to twelve years old; you do not fall within this age range. I suggest you seek out organizations that serve adults.”
Her tone was polite at first, but then it shifted to a cold and firm stance, “Furthermore, I declare that I will not tolerate any form of coercion and will take legal measures if necessary. Thank you…”
Guo Tiandi angrily threw his phone to the ground. The device flew several meters, its screen cracking with two long scars.
“Jennie Yang, you are ruthless!” he roared hysterically, “Why are you forcing me! You just want to drive me to death!”
His anger seemed to vaporize, steaming out of his nostrils as he flared them, picking up his broken phone, which now failed to respond to any touch, completely trashed. He screamed in frustration.
He rushed out of his apartment, running downstairs and collided with a mother and son going upstairs. The woman, protecting her son, scolded him for being careless as if he was rushing to be reincarnated. He stopped, glaring back with murderous intent in his eyes, terrifying the woman into silence.
He continued his reckless charge, kicked open the shabby door of his building, and was met with fearful and disdainful stares from a neighbor at the entrance.
At the door, there was a delivery tricycle parked. He kicked it fiercely and rode away at breakneck speed.
Arriving at the nearest phone store, he headed straight for the most expensive brand counter, quickly purchasing the latest model, and installed his SIM card, whirling away like a tornado.
The streets were bustling as he rode the little tricycle into a secluded corner, powering on his new phone only to be greeted first by a message.
“A529”
Mounting the tricycle, he considered the sluggishness of his ride and abandoned it, hailing a taxi instead. It was only after he left the trike unsecured that he remembered it might be stolen, costing him thousands to replace—an alarming thought given his dwindling savings.
These desperate times had become intolerable.
The taxi dropped him off at a normal neighborhood where he rushed to the delivery lockers and used the courier’s device to open locker A529, retrieving a well-packaged pink phone.
He found a secluded spot, unboxed the phone, and dialed a familiar number, his heart pounding, his anger momentarily suppressed by nervousness.
He was planning what to say when the phone was answered after just one ring—it was clear the other party had been awaiting his call.
“You, those words…”
He managed only these few words before being brutally interrupted, “Don’t pull any stunts, or you know what I’m capable of.”
His voice faltered, utterly subdued by the other’s dominance.
“Follow my instructions from now on. Do not contact the press anymore; leave everything else to me.”
There was a mesmerizing authority in that voice; hearing just one word, he completely surrendered, all rationale disarmed.
“Okay,” he replied meekly, “But why did you say those things in the video?”
A deep sigh came through the phone, still cold, “This is the last time I’m helping you.”
Then, the call ended.
He returned the phone to the box and re-secured it in the locker, his mind racing with unresolved questions. What exactly was he supposed to do next?
The video was tough, saying no help would be offered, but secretly, assistance was given. Was it because she felt sorry for him? The thought briefly warmed him, then he dismissed it—it couldn’t be sympathy. She likely wanted to avoid further trouble. Keeping it low-key was not to raise any suspicions.
“Taking legal action” was a final warning to him. This time she was truly enraged.
No matter, as long as he could escape his current life, he was willing to take the risk.
He didn’t leave immediately, lingering near the lockers to see who might come for the phone. Was it Secretary Huang? Probably not. She was always by her side; her absence would be unusual. She was too careful for such an oversight.
After waiting two hours with no one showing up, he resisted the urge to call her again, knowing it would only infuriate her.
The ringtone of his new phone snapped him back to reality, showing his sister’s name on the caller ID. He was irked—why was she always in trouble? Wasn’t she well-cared for? Why did she always need him? Did she think he didn’t have work? Didn’t need to eat? Didn’t he have his own life to live? Couldn’t she learn to be independent? Blind and deaf, she was nothing but a nuisance!
In his heart, he cursed.
It would have been so much easier if she had died!
After a deep breath, he answered the phone with a tone as gentle as silk, “Yingying, what’s wrong?”
“Brother…” her voice trembled, followed by sobs.
He was thoroughly annoyed, tired of her constant crying. It had been so long; why was she still crying?
“Yingying, what happened? Take your time… tell me.” He feigned patience, but his thoughts were already back on his unsecured tricycle.
On the phone, Guo Yingying cried intermittently, haunted by a nightmare where she was beaten and abused, lost and walking blindly until she fell off a cliff.
“Brother, can you come see me? I miss you,” Guo Yingying pleaded softly and coquettishly.
Guo Tiandi felt a twinge of sympathy—he should visit her, it had been a while.
He glanced back at the unattended lockers; no one had come for the phone. He strode out of the neighborhood and into a taxi.
Returning to where he had left the trike, he found it gone. Enraged, he kicked a nearby car, setting off its piercing alarm.
“Hey! What are you doing?” a burly man with a beer belly shouted as he approached.
Guo Tiandi looked up and saw the man was a few meters away.
He glanced at the car logo—a Porsche.
Bad luck indeed.
He took off running, hearing the man’s curses closing in. Surprisingly, the fat man was faster than he looked, calling out to passersby for help.
In a panic, Guo Tiandi dashed into a mall, locked the elevator, and climbed to the second floor. Dodging into a stairwell, he made it to the third floor and peered through the crack of the door—the fat man seemed to have given up the chase.
Relieved, he strutted out, leaning on a balcony railing to watch as the fat man wandered confusedly in the lobby. The man asked the security guard for assistance, who just shrugged. After a while, the fat man walked away cursing.
Thankfully, the fat man wasn’t smart enough to check the security cameras.
Breathing a sigh of relief, he caught two women eyeing him curiously. He returned their gaze, and they quickly looked away.
Realizing he had inadvertently entered a luxury mall, far classier than regular shopping centers and less crowded, he felt utterly out of place.
The disdainful looks from two clerks in genuine luxury brand uniforms made him blush. Compared to them, in his cheap, stained clothes, he felt deeply humiliated—never before had he been so openly scorned.
Facing their gazes, he walked into a luxurious store and emerged transformed, looking like a wealthy heir—if it weren’t for the ugly scar on his face. He was sure if not for that scar, the materialistic clerks and any woman on the street would be throwing themselves at him.
Walking out of the mall under their admiring glances, he saw a high-end club across the street and thought about going in for some entertainment. However, the passersby’s curious looks stopped him.
He touched the scar on his face and fled.
The scar was like a branding on a criminal’s face in ancient times, marking him for life, recognizable wherever he went. If someone online identified him—Guo Tiandi, who should be living modestly, seen in luxury clothes entering high-end clubs—he’d become a target of public scorn. The compassion people felt for a victim could quickly turn into envy and hatred towards someone who suddenly seemed wealthy.
The poor are truly despicable, he thought bitterly. People show pity to the poor and generosity to the rich but envy and hatred towards the newly wealthy.
Guo Tiandi found a restroom, changed back into his old clothes, carefully packed the luxury items, and stored them in a locker.
He took a taxi to the rehabilitation nursing home where Guo Yingying was staying in the most luxurious suite with top-notch caregivers and a dedicated medical team.
“Hmph, Jennie Yang is always good at keeping up appearances, making it hard to fault her,” he scoffed coldly.
He didn’t knock, just walked into the room. After all, Guo Yingying couldn’t hear or see; as for the caregivers, they were just staff, no need to consider their feelings.
Startled by his sudden entry, a caregiver panicked. She was helping Guo Yingying change clothes; the top buttons of her blouse were undone, revealing her rounded, fair shoulders and half-exposed breasts.
Guo Tiandi froze for a moment, feeling his blood rush. He hurriedly looked away.
The caregiver awkwardly covered Guo Yingying with a blanket and greeted Guo Tiandi nervously.
“Is it brother?” Guo Yingying, unable to hear or see, sensed someone had entered from the caregiver’s reaction.
