Chapter 1 He's My Dad

"He's my dad."

A light and airy sentence,

Yet it seemed to have a deafening effect.

The middle-aged man took out a cigarette from his pocket, bit one for himself, and offered one to Zhou Ze and the old Daoist.

The old Daoist stared blankly, not moving.

Zhou Ze calmly took the cigarette and lit it.

"So, have you thought about it?" the middle-aged man continued to persuade. "Don't worry, I won't cheat you. I can show you my bet slip. You just need to bet the same amount at the same time as me."

"You're truly a good son,"

Zhou Ze said, exhaling a smoke ring.

The middle-aged man frowned slightly and sneered. "Are you in on this deal or not? Just say it."

He wasn't stupid; he could, of course, hear the sarcasm in Zhou Ze's words.

"I'm in. Why wouldn't I be?" Zhou Ze said.

"Good. Five thousand, not expensive, right? You've already bet one hundred thousand across two bets. Spending another five thousand will guarantee a solid profit."

When money was mentioned, the middle-aged man became excited, completely disregarding Zhou Ze's previous mockery.

"What if your dad doesn't make it?" Zhou Ze asked.

"No way. He's my dad, and he knows I've placed a bet. Don't worry, I'll cheer him on and make him hold on tight. Even if he dies, he'll at least have earned a little before he goes."

The middle-aged man wore an expression that said he had everything under control.

At that moment,

It truly felt like father and son were connected,

A deep paternal bond permeated the air, moving and inspiring.

"You never know when someone will die," Zhou Ze reminded him. "Even the ghost messengers can't be certain."

Ghost messengers couldn't arbitrarily take the lives of the living. Of course, it wasn't impossible, but the price was too great. One wrong move could lead to eternal damnation.

"Heh, I dare the ghost messengers to come and take my dad away right now."

The middle-aged man spat out another wad of phlegm and then took out his phone.

"Just transfer the money to me. Once the money is here, I'll show you my bet slip immediately."

"This Daoist will transfer you to hell!"

The old Daoist clenched his fist and smashed it into the man's forehead.

"Bang!"

The middle-aged man was stunned by the punch and fell to the ground. He stood up, wanting to retaliate, but the old Daoist glared at him with eyes as big as a bull's.

He chickened out.

You really couldn't expect a man who relied on his father's life to make a fortune to have much backbone or drive.

"You just wait, you hit someone, right? I'm calling the police!"

The man immediately reached for his phone, which had fallen to the ground.

"Call them, we'll wait,"

Zhou Ze said.

The man's eyelids twitched. He didn't dare to call the police, he really didn't dare. He picked up his phone, glared at the old Daoist, then walked into the house, closing and locking the door from the inside.

The old Daoist sighed, turned around with a somewhat dejected expression, and looked at Zhou Ze.

"Boss, I'm sorry, I acted impulsively."

"It's okay," Zhou Ze said nonchalantly. "What got you so worked up all of a sudden?"

"The biggest regret in this Daoist's life is that when my father was dying, I was away and didn't make it back in time to see him one last time.

That little bastard's words were truly disgusting to me. He's a complete animal, his conscience has been eaten by dogs! Using his own father's life to make money!"

Zhou Ze flicked his cigarette ash, saying nothing.

"Boss, don't you feel anything else?" the old Daoist asked, pursing his lips. "Everyone would be disgusted by a beast like that, right?"

"I'm an orphan."

"............" The old Daoist.

Zhou Ze smiled, exhaled a smoke ring, and said, "Actually, I've seen similar things in the hospital quite often. At first, I also couldn't understand it,

And even felt very angry.

There are no filial sons in front of a sickbed for long. Of course, there are indeed many unfilial sons, but the vast majority of people actually want to cure their family members.

Although the country's medical insurance and rural social security have been popularized, and medical conditions are improving year by year, if you really suffer from those terminal or critical illnesses, it's like throwing money into a bottomless pit."

Zhou Ze threw the cigarette butt away, making a "smashing" motion.

"Human life is more important than money," the old Daoist still insisted.

"Human life is indeed more important than money. 'Life is priceless' is indeed a well-known slogan, but the value of anything can actually be measured, it just depends on the different perspectives.

For example, in order to treat a seriously ill elder, the whole family takes out loans, making an ordinary family destitute, and then the elder's illness may still not be cured, and they still pass away.

Then, how should the family's life, the children's education, and the future be taken care of?

I once encountered something. There was an old man who secretly ran away from the hospital. We found him, and his son was very filial, willing to sell everything to treat him, kneeling and begging him to return to the hospital for continued treatment.

But he didn't want to burden his son, saying that he would either go home and wait to die, or he would rush onto the road and be hit by a car. In short, he didn't want to stay in the hospital and spend money, burdening his son."

The old Daoist pursed his lips upon hearing this.

"This is the helplessness of life. This helplessness runs through history, regardless of whether it is China or abroad. People will always have to face some trade-offs, and these trade-offs are sometimes very cruel."

The old Daoist smiled wryly. "Then, should we still call the police?"

"Call them, why not?" Zhou Ze looked at the old Daoist. "Life may sometimes be helpless, but life should not be desecrated.

It can wither in helplessness, but it shouldn't be stirred in a cesspool.

Using human lives to gamble, treating the lives of your own kind as cockfights or cricket fights or dogs, seeking pleasure and excitement. These people should go to hell.

After we go back, I'll give you some underworld money, you can burn it."

Upon hearing this, the old Daoist subconsciously rubbed his hands together, and said coyly:

"How could I, Boss? Serving you is what I should be doing. It's just one hundred thousand yuan, right? It's nothing, am I such a stingy person?"

Immediately after, the old Daoist, as if afraid that Zhou Ze would go back on his word, continued:

"If you insist on giving it to me, Boss, I can't refuse your kindness."

"You're overthinking it. Burning paper money is to get you some yin virtue, and then turn yourself in as a tainted witness. You also participated in gambling, but it's estimated that your merits and demerits can offset each other, plus the effect of the underworld money, nothing will happen."

"............" The old Daoist.

Zhou Ze walked forward with his crutch, while the old Daoist followed behind dejectedly, probably drawing circles in his mind non-stop.

Just then, Zhou Ze suddenly stopped.

"Boss, are you tired?" the old Daoist asked.

My boss abuses me a thousand times, I treat my boss like my first love.

The basic principles of serving a ghost were very clear to the old Daoist, otherwise, he might turn you into a ghost too.

"Something's wrong, what time is it?" Zhou Ze asked.

"Four thirty in the afternoon," the old Daoist said, looking at his phone.

"Why is the sky so overcast?" Zhou Ze pointed to the top of his head.

"It's going to rain, probably," the old Daoist guessed.

"But the weather forecast said there's no rain today," Zhou Ze said.

"The weather forecast predicts an 80% chance of rain tomorrow. There are probably only ten people in their station, and then they vote by show of hands. Eight people think it will rain, so there's an 80% chance of rain."

"Then, what about over there?" Zhou Ze pointed to the distant sky.

The old Daoist looked over and was stunned. There, it was clear, with not a cloud in the sky, and the sun shining brightly.

This strange, clear division was indeed alarming. It should be noted that this was not Yunnan, not a plateau, this was the Yangtze River Delta plain region. This kind of situation where the sun rises in the east and rains in the west is still very rare.

"There's a problem," Zhou Ze said, then he looked at a door on the right, with a sign that read "Xinrui Hospital" on it. There was a large clock inside the door.

It was the kind of decorative clock, very large in size.

Zhou Ze pushed open the door and walked inside, the old Daoist followed behind him.

"Hey, what are you doing?"

At this time, the hospital's security guard came over.

This hospital was actually very small, probably didn't have any qualifications. All the departments, including the inpatient department, were in a three-story building. There was only one security guard, but he wasn't some old man, but a man with a face full of muscles, although he was wearing a security guard uniform.

"Just taking a look," Zhou Ze replied.

"There's nothing to see," the security guard scolded.

"Hey, is there something wrong with your head? Is the hospital open but not letting people in?" the old Daoist retorted directly.

Have you heard of borrowing power from someone else's influence?

This Daoist is relying on the ghost's power,

Scaring you to death!

Wait, something seems wrong?

"This isn't a place for seeing a doctor. If you want to see a doctor, go somewhere else. Also, this is a private place, no tours allowed. Go, go, go..."

The security guard completely ignored the old Daoist and came up to drive them away.

Zhou Ze stared silently at the large clock placed at the entrance of the hospital hall, lost in thought.

The old Daoist stepped forward and made direct physical contact with the security guard, colliding with him.

My boss is doing something important... uh, is spacing out, but you can't disturb him!

"You want to fight?" The security guard pointed at the old Daoist.

"Come on, try it!" The old Daoist retorted the same way.

The old Daoist wasn't afraid of a fistfight!

"Do you know what this hospital does?" Zhou Ze asked, looking at the clock.

"What's it to you? This is just a crematorium, it has nothing to do with you. If you know what's good for you, get lost! Don't come here looking for trouble after losing money gambling, go find the bookie!"

The security guard shouted directly.

Zhou Ze nodded.

It seemed he knew.

Then Zhou Ze reached out and patted the old Daoist on the shoulder.

"Let's go."

"Boss, why are you so timid today... a sigh of relief, haha, it's good not to fight, it's good not to fight, let's all make money peacefully, make money peacefully."

The old Daoist chuckled and followed Zhou Ze out.

The security guard glanced at the two people walking out and snorted.

Walking to the street outside the door, Zhou Ze lit another cigarette.

The old Daoist was a bit listless.

He felt that this boss wasn't as inspiring as the previous one. If it were the previous boss, when that bastard said "He's my dad," the former boss would have probably immediately made his dad send his white-haired son to the grave.

The boss in front of him was too disciplined and self-restrained.

"He's alive, not under my control," Zhou Ze explained.

"Yeah," the old Daoist responded weakly.

"Old Daoist, I really don't like this place,"

Zhou Ze said.

"This Daoist doesn't like it either," the old Daoist echoed.

"What time is it?" Zhou Ze asked again.

"Four forty-three."

Zhou Ze held the cigarette in his hand, nodded, and said:

"It's about to come out."

............

The security guard picked up the walkie-talkie and said, "Hey, security room, the two people who just came in have been kicked out by me, doesn't seem like they lost money and came looking for trouble."

Just as he finished speaking, a dense static noise suddenly came from the walkie-talkie.

"Hello? Hello?" The security guard patted the walkie-talkie. "What a piece of junk."

"Dong... Dong..."

The clock beside him rang.

The security guard subconsciously turned his head, then frowned, then scratched his head and leaned closer. Damn it, it's not on the hour yet, why are you ringing?

Four forty-three... four minutes.

Just then, the security guard suddenly saw the sound of gears grinding coming from inside the clock. This sound was very loud, very terrifying,

And it carried a texture of juice being crushed and splattered, like a large piece of pork being stirred in a blender.

The security guard was confused and took a step back subconsciously.

Immediately after,

He saw from the clock,

Slowly extending a hand,

This hand was like it had just been crushed by gears, completely covered in blood and gore.

This scene,

Was definitely a nightmare for those with trypophobia.

The surrounding temperature,

Suddenly dropped,

Giving a feeling of falling into an ice cellar.

The security guard was so scared that his body began to tremble. He wanted to run, he wanted to shout, but his legs were like they had been filled with lead at this moment, he couldn't move at all.

This hand slowly grabbed the security guard's neck.

A terrible force came from the arm, pulling the security guard closer to the clock.

The security guard's face was squeezed against the outer wall of the clock, his face almost deformed.

A ghastly, trembling voice came from the walkie-talkie:

"What... time... is it... I... I... should... die... should I?"