Chapter 4: Making Some Money

Jiang Cheng, First People's Hospital.

"Doctor, I dreamed last night that a group of people beat me, which scared me awake. I went back to sleep, and then dreamed of them again; they said I still dared to come back, and then kept beating me........"

"Do you think a ghost is haunting me?"

"........ Sorry, this is not the psychiatry department, it's the Oncology Department. Please turn left when you exit; that's the psychiatry department."

Dr. Wang Guoming, the Oncology Department Director in his fifties, smiled and kindly saw the patient off, then pressed the next prompt button on the desk.

To be honest, he really wanted to call the person an idiot for wasting medical resources.

But with medical disputes being so serious now, what if one day he gets stabbed?

He needs to find time to learn some self‑defense.

He thought.

The door opened, and a young man walked in:

"Director Wang."

"Yu Lin, you're here?"

Wang Guoming looked up, his professional smile instantly softened, and a trace of unmistakable regret rose in his eyes.

Ten days ago, he had personally handed the late‑stage gastric cancer diagnosis to the young man before him—Yu Lin's calm reaction had startled him; Yu Lin simply folded the report silently and said, "Thank you, Director Wang."

Now Yu Lin wore a black T‑shirt Wash to a faded white, canvas boots bought from a street stall, and a relaxed smile at the corner of his mouth, as if he were only here for a routine cold check‑up.

"Targeted Therapy... how are you considering it?" Wang Guoming flipped through the medical record, his pen unconsciously drawing a few jagged lines on the paper.

He knew Yu Lin's background: an orphan family, finished high school on state welfare, now working part‑time during summer vacation, and his bank balance likely couldn't even cover one round of chemotherapy.

"It's untreatable," Yu Lin shrugged:

"You're not unaware that I have a few steel…"

The examination room fell silent, leaving only the hum of the air conditioner.

Wang Guoming pressed his brows— as an Oncology expert, he knew better than anyone that treatment for late‑stage gastric cancer is essentially buying time with money, and Yu Lin didn't even qualify for that time!

"What do you want to do this time?" He finally sighed and changed the subject.

"Check again," Yu Lin pointed to his stomach:

"I want to see... how much longer I can live."

Wang Guoming stood up:

"Let's go, I'll take you there."

A few hours later.

Inside the CT Room.

"This can't be..."

Wang Guoming stared at the image on the screen, his shock nearly spilling over his face.

The cancerous lesion that ten days ago was ferociously spreading now seemed forcefully suppressed by some power, its edges even showing signs of atrophy—no case in medical history has ever shown a late‑stage malignant tumor reversing on its own!

"Your gastric cancer... is self‑healing," his throat tightened:

"It's simply... is... how to put it, yes, yes, it's a Miracle!"

"Miracle!"

Yu Lin stared at the fading shadow on the screen, was silent for a moment, then suddenly laughed.

"Looks like Heaven hasn't decided to take me yet."

Wang Guoming shook his head, still immersed in shock.

"In theory this makes no sense... unless..." he paused:

"Have you taken any special medicine lately? Or undergone any treatment?"

Yu Lin shook his head.

"No, I just slept for two days."

The old doctor stared at him for a few seconds, then sighed.

"There are too many things medicine can't explain... but regardless, this is good news." He patted Yu Lin's shoulder:

"Keep it up, regular follow‑ups."

"I'll prescribe some medicine for you to take back."

"Don't worry about the cost; these are covered by insurance."

"Thank you, Director Wang!" Yu Lin nodded.

A moment later.

When he stepped out of the hospital gates, the sunlight was perfect. He squinted, watching the bustling crowd on the street, and suddenly felt everything was unreal.

"A Miracle?"

"Jesus, my dearest friend, thank you."

"As for compassion... fine, I have mercy on those who are kind to me."

"And those who are evil, I'll send them to you for reform."

He strode forward, merging into the crowd.

Behind him.

Wang Guoming stood by the windowsill, watching him until he vanished, then withdrew his gaze, murmuring softly:

"Medical Miracle? Or supernatural power?"

"Having lived most of my life, this.........."

"Director Wang."

"Hey, you're here."

He pulled back his scattered thoughts, turned and looked at the newly arrived patient:

"Please sit."

"Gotta earn some money, otherwise I can't even pay the rent."

Yu Lin stood at the lottery shop's doorway, looked up at the sign, pushed the door and walked in.

Inside, the lighting was dim; the walls were plastered with past winning numbers. Several middle‑aged men, cigarettes dangling, pointed at the trend charts and muttered, "This draw must have consecutive numbers."

Behind the counter, the boss was a bald middle‑aged man, scrolling short videos. He glanced up when the door rang.

"What are you buying?"

Yu Lin walked to the counter, glanced at the various tickets under the glass case, and asked:

"Boss, which one is the hardest to win?"

The boss hesitated, sized him up, saw him wearing a Wash‑faded T‑shirt and jeans, canvas shoes with frayed edges, and instantly thought he was a poor kid.

"The hardest to win?" the boss scoffed, pointing casually:

"This one, Double Color Ball, first‑prize tier; the prize pool is now over 70 million, but before it hits a hundred million, basically no one can win."

"Or rather, it's impossible for anyone to 'hit' it."

Yu Lin caught his subtext—"This thing is just a scam for fools."

"Pure black curtain."

But he only nodded and said:

"Then I'll buy this."

The boss frowned, "Are you sure? The odds of this thing winning are lower than being struck by lightning!"

Yu Lin gave no reply, bent over the ticket machine to input a string of numbers, then pulled eight hundred yuan from his pocket and slapped it all onto the counter.

"All in."

"I'm going all‑in."

The boss's eyes widened:

"Are you crazy? This money could buy food, buy clothes, isn't that better? Look at your clothes..."

Yu Lin smiled, "Just a trial; if I don't win, I'll go work in a factory."

"I've already found a factory."

The boss opened his mouth to persuade a bit more, but seeing his calm face, finally sighed, "Fine, good words can't persuade a damned fool."

"Especially a gambling fiend."

"You gambling fiends, the more there are, the better; the more there are, the more I can earn!"

"I'm only doing this because you're still young..."

He said that while deftly printing a ticket, handing it to Yu Lin: "The draw is tonight; watch it yourself."

Yu Lin took the ticket, folded it neatly and slipped it into his pocket: "Thanks."

"If I win then, I'll give you a big red envelope!"

"Bye."

He turned, pushed the door and left; the boss watched his back, shook his head and sighed:

"Give me a big red envelope?"

"You could only win if it's a Miracle!"