Chapter 8: Liver Cancer

“Uncle Zhao, I’m here for work.”

After school, Li Cheng parked his folding bicycle in the alley and walked into the dessert shop.

The shop was empty; the glass cabinets, once filled with food, were now completely bare.

“Boss?”

He walked into the kitchen and saw Uncle Zhao sitting alone in the corner, his face gaunt, eyes dull, as if he had aged ten years overnight. “Uncle Zhao, what’s wrong?”

Seeing him, Uncle Zhao mustered a faint bit of energy. “Little Li, this shop might not last.”

Li Cheng’s expression turned stunned. “Huh? Why?”

“The old city renovation—the landlord wants to sell this space and is pushing me to move out.” Uncle Zhao spoke dazedly. “Your aunt collapsed suddenly on the bus today. The hospital diagnosed her with liver cancer.”

“.”

Li Cheng fell silent. Uncle Zhao’s family came from outside the city; they had struggled for years to buy this shop, and just as life began to improve, disaster struck.

He spoke slowly, voice hoarse. “Where’s Nannan?”

Nannan was Uncle Zhao’s daughter, just in elementary school, exceptionally cute. Li Cheng often tutored her in homework during his breaks.

“She’s upstairs watching TV. I don’t know how to tell her. I’m too afraid to tell her. I’ll have to take her to the hospital later to see her mother.”

Uncle Zhao pressed his forehead, his face lost in shadow, voice nearly breaking into sobs. “Your severance pay is in the drawer behind the counter. Take care of yourself from now on.”

“I don’t need severance—I’ve got other options.” Li Cheng shook his head firmly, then paused. “Which hospital is your wife in?”

“Deming Hospital. If you’re free, you can come visit her. Don’t worry too much about us—the landlord breached the contract, so he owes three months’ rent as penalty. Combined with our savings, we can still manage.”

Uncle Zhao forced a weak smile and called up the stairs. “Nannan! Xiao Cheng is leaving—go say goodbye!”

Footsteps clattered down from upstairs. Nannan, her pigtails bouncing, clutching a cob of corn with kernels still stuck to her lips, ran down and hugged Li Cheng’s leg, looking up with big, watery eyes. “Xiao Cheng, you have to come visit me, okay?”

“Yeah, I promise.”

Li Cheng looked at the innocent, adorable Nannan, sighed deeply, and gently patted her head before bidding farewell to Uncle Zhao’s family.

Back in the dim alley, the boy pedaled his bicycle slowly, staring up at the tangled wires overhead, his heart heavy.

The world isn’t fair—or rather, it has never been fair.

Gurgling—

His stomach growled. Li Cheng patted his belly and sighed. “Alright, let’s find you something to eat.”

He rode to a roadside supermarket and browsed the near-expiry section—food close to its expiration date was significantly cheaper.

“Imported chocolate: 2516 kJ per 100g, pork cracklings: 2810 kJ per 100g, potato chips: 916 kJ per 40g bag, Weilong Daodao meat: 1836 kJ per 100g.”

Li Cheng flicked his fingers, rapidly calculating the energy-to-price ratio of each item, selecting only the cheapest snacks with high volume and excessive calories.

He bought two large bags before leaving the store and sat alone in a park corner, eating.

His [Gene Hunger] state required him to consume large amounts of calories daily, and they had to be nutritionally balanced—not pure sugar or fat alone.

The cheapest solution would be the cafeteria—Zhuoyue Middle School made its money from high tuition and social donations, so it didn’t skimp on student meals. The cafeteria was affordable and the food was delicious.

The problem was: the cafeteria had surveillance. He couldn’t eat ten portions like one person.

Even near-expiry food at the store cost money. Now that he’d lost his job at the dessert shop, he couldn’t just live off savings—he needed another way to earn money.

Li Cheng thought for a moment, pulled out his phone, opened WeChat, and found Cui Yi.

Cui Yi was a childhood friend who used to live in the same neighborhood, a few years older than him.

His family situation was even worse than Li Cheng’s—Cui Yi’s parents divorced long ago, and neither wanted to care for him, so he dropped out of high school and went out into the world to fend for himself.

He’d handed out flyers, delivered takeout, worked on construction sites, repaired cars, done sales—he’d tried every kind of job before becoming a labor broker, hanging around Yin City’s local group chats.

A labor broker, in essence, just recruited short-term workers.

For example, a newly opened bubble tea shop wanting to look busy would hire people to line up outside. Real estate sales offices did the same.

“Hey? Brother Cui, it’s Li Cheng.”

“Oh, Little Cheng? What’s up?” Cui Yi’s end was noisy, clearly busy.

“Do you have any short-term jobs you can recommend?” Li Cheng asked, slightly embarrassed.

“Hah, you’ve come to the right person.”

Cui Yi grinned. “I’m now a full-time employee at MS Company—pretty cool, right?”

“MS Company?”

“Meeseeks. Chinese name: Mission Accomplished. Look it up online.” Cui Yi said. “The company operates globally, serving only the ultra-rich.”

“Say you’re camping in the Alps and suddenly crave a fancy meal. You call MS, and an hour later, a helicopter lands, sets up tables, chairs, and cutlery, and a Michelin chef cooks Alaskan snow crab, French Alsatian foie gras, and Japanese Hyogo beef, then serves a bottle of red wine aged by a century-old shipwreck.”

“I beat hundreds of applicants to land this job.”

Cui Yi’s tone was overflowing with pride. A high school dropout beating out elite graduates from top universities? It was indeed worthy of pride.

“Let me check the schedule… Hmm, the day after tomorrow, there’s a rich kid’s birthday party needing staff to set up. You in? Daily wage: 1,800.”

“That much?” Li Cheng was startled. That was daily pay.

“The client pays more, so we earn more. You’re coming, right? Then it’s settled—I’ll call you then.”

Cui Yi hung up, adjusted his blue MS cap, and helped his coworkers carry equipment into the mansion’s garden.

Blüthner pianos, Zelaton speakers, Baoli Feng wardrobes, Persian handwoven carpets.

The mansion’s foyer floor was already marked with chalk lines; MS staff placed furniture and appliances precisely within the chalked outlines.

A gloved employee carefully placed a white porcelain vase atop a red sandalwood cabinet and whispered, “Brother Cui, this villa must be worth at least eighty to a hundred million?”

“Don’t talk like that. Forgot the employee handbook? Never discuss clients privately.”

Cui Yi cut him off, but internally he muttered: This location, this size? Eighty to a hundred million? At least one hundred million!

Cui Yi, who had become independent early and endured the coldness of the world, had long passed the age of resentment. Others’ wealth meant nothing to him.

He was just puzzled—the villa’s owner had never shown up; everything was handled by the butler, who demanded all furniture be installed within a single day.

It felt like a temporary move. But which billionaire would be this casual?

At this moment, in the third-floor bedroom far from the noise of the living room, Shao Wangshu, wearing a little chicken pajama, lay on her bed, endlessly tapping her phone.

Unlock screen—no QQ messages. Lock screen. Unlock screen—no QQ messages. Lock screen. Repeat.

In the corner of the room, a young female housekeeper with a ponytail stood rigidly and whispered gently, “Miss, it’s time to do your homework.”

“Soon, soon.” Shao Wangshu replied absentmindedly, her fingers unconsciously pinching the cat ears on her phone’s silicone case.

“Your father said your condition for living alone in Yin City was not letting your grades drop. Otherwise, you have to return to Jincheng.”

“I know, I’ll do it soon.” Shao Wangshu rolled over, then suddenly brightened. “Li Cheng accepted my friend request!”

“That’s great.” The housekeeper replied insincerely, picked up her schoolbag, and laid out her test papers on the desk. “Can you start now?”

“Hurry, help me think—how should I greet him? Should I send ‘Good evening,’ or ‘Hey, desk partner,’ or ‘Don’t you remember me anymore?’”

“Would the last one be too direct? It’s been so long—he probably doesn’t remember me anyway…”

Listening to the girl’s muttering, the housekeeper rolled her eyes and stood silently in the corner like a statue.

The Shao family, like the Xue family where Li Cheng’s uncle-by-marriage Xue Jingming belonged, are one of the eight families bound by contract with the Special Affairs Bureau, jointly exploring the Killing Fields.

The difference: Xue Jingming was merely a distant branch of the Xue family, insignificant. But Shao Wangshu, along with her twin brother and sister, were the core of the Shao family’s current generation.

Her veins carried the blood of a divine corruption.

(End of Chapter)