By the time he reached the awning over the subway entrance, Shang Xueyan’s clothes were already damp. He briskly shook the water droplets off his cap, swiped his card, and walked into the station.
He couldn’t deliver food in such heavy rain, and he had no other work today, so Shang Xueyan headed straight to Dexi Children’s Hospital.
When he emerged from the subway exit, the downpour showed no sign of letting up, hammering down in a continuous curtain. An elderly vendor at the exit was selling umbrellas thin, transparent plastic ones, but cheap at ten yuan apiece.
Shang Xueyan bought one.
Passing a supermarket, he folded his umbrella and went inside.
He hesitated for a long moment in front of a shelf lined with various Barbie dolls, then finally bought an expensive but exceptionally beautiful doll slightly shorter than his forearm, dressed in an elaborate ice-blue princess gown, with snow-white hair and thick lashes. A child would surely love it.
Carrying the gift out of the supermarket, Shang Xueyan walked into the hospital with practiced familiarity, took the elevator to the sixth floor of the inpatient building, and spotted his good friend Shen Mengkun in the corridor thick with the smell of disinfectant.
Shen Mengkun was a friend Shang Xueyan had made after transmigrating into this world. The first time they met, he’d felt certain they were destined to be friends for no other reason than that he looked exactly like Su Yu, Shang Xueyan’s best friend from his previous life.
In that past life, his friend’s mother had been a commandery princess, and his father the director of the Imperial Academy, with students scattered across the realm. His friend himself had been a pampered young master of wealth and privilege, spending lavishly with Shang Xueyan, eating, drinking, and living carefree. In this life, however, he was even poorer than Shang Xueyan.
Shang Xueyan had no house, no car, no savings, and was still fighting a lawsuit to terminate his contract with his company but overall, one person fed meant the whole family was fed.
Shen Mengkun, on the other hand, had no house, no car, no savings, and also a frail mother and a younger sister in elementary school.
Two months ago, disaster had struck out of nowhere: his sister, a second-grader, was diagnosed with acute lymphoblastic leukemia. Because it was intermediate-risk and she was young, the doctors recommended chemotherapy. But after her first round, she developed an infection and spent half a month in the ICU, costing several hundred thousand yuan.
Shen Mengkun had already borrowed from everyone he possibly could. If luck held, future treatment would still require several hundred thousand more; if not, it could easily reach over a million.
Chemotherapy had caused her hair to fall out. Shen Mengyue sat on the hospital bed wearing a bright red knitted cap, a second-grade math textbook in her hands. Seeing Shang Xueyan, she exclaimed excitedly, “Brother Xueyan!”
Her face was a full size smaller than the last time Shang Xueyan had seen her, and her eyes looked even bigger.
Shang Xueyan had always enjoyed pinching the baby fat on children’s cheeks, but now Shen Mengyue’s face had no flesh left. He gently touched the little girl’s pale cheek and handed her the beautiful, delicate doll. “A gift.”
“So pretty it’s Princess Elsa!” Shen Mengyue cradled the doll, unable to put it down. “I’ve been loving Princess Elsa lately. She even has two extra little dresses to change into.”
“Thank you, Brother Xueyan.” Shen Mengyue hugged the doll to her chest, her eyes bright.
He played with Shen Mengyue for a while until she grew drowsy. Shen Mengkun drew the curtain to let her nap, and the two of them left the room to chat in the corridor.
Shang Xueyan took out his phone, tapped the screen a few times, then said to Shen Mengkun, “I just transferred you twenty thousand yuan. Use it for now.”
Shen Mengkun’s eyes reddened slightly. He clenched his hand into a fist and bumped Shang Xueyan’s shoulder. “Thanks, brother.”
He had met Shang Xueyan three and a half months ago. He knew Shang Xueyan didn’t have much money either, especially since he’d learned over twenty days ago that Shen Mengyue had been admitted to the ICU, costing several thousand yuan a day. Shang Xueyan had lent him every cent he had. That twenty thousand yuan must have been everything Shang Xueyan had earned recently money scraped together through frugal living and relentless part-time work.
“I’ll pay you back someday, for sure,” Shen Mengkun said.
He’d recently hit up nearly all his friends for loans, but none of them were well-off, and these days, everyone tacitly agreed that the borrower was the grandson and the lender was the grandfather. Close friends lent him ten or twenty thousand; those less close politely claimed they weren’t financially comfortable either.
Shang Xueyan had only known him for three and a half months. Though the two had hit it off instantly, by all rights they weren’t yet bound by deep friendship, but Shang Xueyan had already lent him tens of thousands even the lawyer’s fees he’d planned to use to fight his contract dispute with Tianli Entertainment.
Shang Xueyan wasn’t used to such sentimental scenes, especially since this was a friend who had once been draped in furs and fine silks. He patted his shoulder. “Mengyue will be fine, I’m sure. It’s only a few months we’ll get through it.”
He stayed with Shen Mengkun at the hospital for an hour. After the rain outside the window stopped, Shang Xueyan left the hospital. It was around dinner time, so he went home, changed clothes, and started running delivery orders.
Recently, several food delivery platforms a thousand years later had been locked in a price war, showering customers with subsidies, which meant Shang Xueyan got plenty of orders. He worked for six hours straight, and by the time it was nearly one in the morning, he decided to finish the current order and head home to rest, he was scheduled for the morning shift at the coffee shop tomorrow.
Wearing his dark blue helmet, he was crossing the road on his electric scooter when his gaze suddenly sharpened. Beside the road ran a river, and by the riverbank, someone seemed to have stood up, about to jump in.
Shang Xueyan hastily pulled his scooter to the curb and sprinted toward the river, but he was still a few steps too late a second before his hand could touch the person’s clothes, they jumped.
Shang Xueyan cursed under his breath. Without a second thought, he tore off his jacket and helmet, tossed them on the ground, and dove in to pull the person out.
The March river water was bone-piercingly cold. Shang Xueyan had no time to care about the chill. He swept his arms through the water, found the person’s position within seconds, swam over, hooked his arm around their ribs from behind, and dragged them toward the shore.
The person collapsed onto the stone steps by the riverbank, coughing up water. Lifting their eyes and realizing a kind stranger had saved them, tears poured down like a faucet that had been twisted open, unstoppable.
Shang Xueyan wasn’t quite sure what to do. He wiped the water from his face and wrung out his clothes.
He pulled a few tissues from the pocket of his jacket lying on the ground. Shen Mengyue’s surgery still required a lot of money, so he couldn’t bear to buy pocket tissues before leaving home, he’d grabbed a dozen or so sheets from the tissue box and stuffed them in his pocket, just in case.
He used the crumpled tissues to dry his head and face, then handed the remaining dry ones to the sobbing girl.
She was wailing, lost in her own emotions, shoulders heaving with each sob, and didn’t take them.
Shang Xueyan scratched his cheek, sat down beside her, and asked gently, “Miss, what’s wrong?”
The words opened a floodgate, and her sobbing grew louder. In the dim, cold night, she lifted her gaze to glance at the drenched Shang Xueyan, choking out between sobs, “I can’t find a job. I can’t find a job.”
“I went to a 985 university. My parents thought that once I graduated, I’d land a good job right away. But it’s been almost half a year since graduation, and I still can’t find work. I don’t even dare tell them.”
Shang Xueyan had been here for three and a half months now, and having inherited part of the original owner’s memories, he knew that 985 was a very prestigious university.
The girl sniffled, “My mom only finished first grade in elementary school, so she works as a seamstress in a garment factory. I fucking graduated from a 985, am I supposed to go shake milk tea or work in a factory as a seamstress too? Then what was the point of studying all those years? I should’ve just started working after elementary school.”
Shang Xueyan didn’t know how to comfort her. He handed her the dry tissue in his hand, and the girl took it with trembling fingers, wiping the snot and tears from her face.
Shang Xueyan said, “I’m delivering food right now.”
The girl looked up at him.
“But a few months ago, I could spend hundreds of taels of silver a day…” He converted hundreds of taels into today’s prices, “hundreds of thousands, I guess. I never once worried about money.”
“Now I open my eyes and all I see is money. My little sister has leukemia and needs hundreds of thousands for medical treatment. And a few months ago, I had an older brother, he was so good to me, always willing to share any tasty food or fun toys with me since we were kids. My parents were by my side too, treating me so well.” Shang Xueyan’s eyes suddenly stung a little. He took a deep breath, pulled himself together, and said, “But now, in this world, it’s just me left alone.”
The girl’s crying stopped abruptly. She had strong empathy, and her voice became much more cautious, “You…”
Shang Xueyan smiled. “But I’m still trying hard to live. I think if they were here, they’d want me to live on with optimism and strength.”
“Just because you can’t find a good job now doesn’t mean you never will. If you died, wouldn’t your 985, exam have been for nothing?”
The girl wasn’t so optimistic. Given the current situation, employment pressure would only keep growing. But after hearing this young man’s story, she suddenly felt that her own difficulties weren’t insurmountable after all. This young master, within a few months, his parents had died, his family had fallen from grace, he’d been reduced to delivering food to make a living, and he had a sister who needed hundreds of thousands for treatment and he could still stay strong. The girl suddenly found a bit of courage.
“Thank you,” the girl said.
A gust of cold wind blew past, and her body trembled.
Shang Xueyan picked up the jacket he’d tossed aside and handed it to her. “Put this on.”
“No, no, you wear it. You’re wearing less than I am,” the girl refused.
Shang Xueyan didn’t keep arguing with her. He simply draped the jacket over her shoulders and asked, “What’s your parents’ number? Have them come pick you up.”
“My parents aren’t here. They’re working in Jiang Province.”
“Then I’ll walk you back,” Shang Xueyan said, not feeling at ease.
The girl let out a bright laugh. “Don’t worry. Honestly, after hearing what you just said, I realize how stupid it was to try to end my life. I’ll just take a cab back myself.”
Shang Xueyan hesitated for a moment.
The girl added, “Let’s add each other on WeChat. I’ll message you once I’m home.”
“Alright.”
Shang Xueyan turned on his phone. He had cracked the screen at the end of last month, leaving several spiderweb-like lines across it that somewhat affected usability. But even a cheap smartphone would cost over a thousand yuan, and replacing just the screen would set him back several hundred. So he didn’t bother he just made do with it.
The girl pulled up her QR code, and Shang Xueyan scanned it to add her as a friend.
She accepted his friend request.
After she called a ride-hailing car, Shang Xueyan watched her get in before remembering he still had one last delivery to make.
Damn, how late was he going to be?
Shang Xueyan put on his helmet and strode quickly toward his electric bike.
Before he could even start the engine, the platform notified him that because he was thirty minutes late, the customer had already canceled the order and left a negative review.
Since it was his excessive lateness that caused the customer to cancel, he had to compensate the restaurant twenty-one yuan for the meal, and six yuan would be deducted from his performance bonus.
That single order lost him twenty-seven yuan.
Shang Xueyan had long legs, so when sitting on the electric bike, both feet could basically touch the ground. His regret over the twenty-seven yuan deduction lasted only a moment he just prayed that girl would really be able to move past what happened.
Since he no longer needed to deliver the last order, Shang Xueyan’s eyes lit up. He crouched by the roadside, found a clean spot, and opened the takeout container. The customer had ordered braised pork rice, and since he’d kept it in the insulated box, it was still warm when he opened it.
Shang Xueyan savored the entire box of braised pork rice, tossed the container into a nearby trash bin, put on his navy-blue helmet, and rode his electric bike home.
The first thing he did when he got home was take a shower. After changing into dry pajamas and washing up, he sat cross-legged on the bed. He was just about to message the girl to ask if she’d made it home safely when he received a message from her instead.
Qin Ru: 【I’m home】
Shang Xueyan: 【Then get some rest early】
Qin Ru: 【Just finished showering, about to sleep】
Two seconds later, before Shang Xueyan could even send his reply, she sent another message.
Qin Ru has transferred 2,000 yuan to you.
Shang Xueyan’s eyes widened instantly. 【?】
Qin Ru: 【Although I’m grateful you saved me, this isn’t a thank-you gift, it’s for your sister’s medication. I know two thousand yuan is very modest, but I can only afford so much】
Qin Ru: 【I hope your sister recovers soon】
Qin Ru: 【Kitten cheering you on jpg】
Qin Ru: 【Handsome guy, hurry up and accept it】