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I resigned voluntarily.

My colleagues all say I'm stupid. Competition in big companies is incredibly fierce, and every year a batch of people are laid off. If I, an older programmer, just hold on for another two or three months, I might become one of those laid-offs by the end of the year.

Being fired always results in much more compensation than resigning; at least it allows me to hold on for a few more months until I find another job.

I smiled and said I couldn't wait any longer.

Before I left, my boss, who usually made things difficult for me, was unusually kind to me. He looked at everyone, gently patted my shoulder, and used me as an example to encourage a group of programmers around my age.

"Young people should be encouraged to explore their own ideas; the company isn't such an inhumane place."

Some looked thoughtful, some dismissively, and others, having heard rumors, looked at me with sympathy.

I didn't answer; I just took my rightful salary and the company's incentive bonus for resigning and left.

In the hospital, a familiar yet unfamiliar gaunt figure lay quietly on the hospital bed, not at all like the nagging person in my memory; he should be a bit stronger.

I clutched the banknotes tightly, their bright red color almost dripping, like human blood.

But that's not enough, far from enough to replace truly healthy human blood.

Even though I'm earning more now, it doesn't give me the same sense of security as those small sums of money I had as a child. I was momentarily lost in thought, and inexplicably recalled a conversation from my childhood.

"You're going on a spring outing? Where? What for? You're just trying to rip me off! Eighty yuan for climbing a mountain and seeing some lousy trees? And you want to bring your own food? You might as well just go for a walk in the park... Forget it, it only happens twice a year, eighty yuan, huh..."

Wrinkled and crumpled, green and blue, they add up to eighty.

The mother said with a hint of pride, "Your classmate who collected the money will probably thank you; at least they'll have some change to give."

Da da da.

The attending physician's footsteps were light, yet exceptionally clear. He seemed somewhat surprised to see me there, yet felt it necessary to remind me: "The patient's condition can't be delayed any longer; treatment must begin as soon as possible, but..."

I understand what was left unsaid: the surgery is expensive and has a significant failure rate.

Most importantly, Mom is old and her health is failing. It's uncertain how much longer she can live after all this.

This is a losing proposition; cutting it off as soon as possible is the best way to minimize losses. I inexplicably recalled the scene of that annoying boss judging whether a plan should be executed.

I licked my dry lips, still unable to reconcile my only family member with the project: "I will raise the money as soon as possible. In the meantime, please ask the doctor to take good care of my mother."

The attending physician said it was what the hospital should do, and refused to say anything more.

That's fine. I'm satisfied.

Having exhausted all the legitimate borrowing channels, I had no choice but to turn to illegal lending.

The monthly interest rate is 3%, payable at the beginning of the month. If you delay even one day, the interest will accrue by another 3%. The burly man pulled out a contract, his menacing expression indicating that they could both pay and recover the money, and that he shouldn't even think about running away or calling the police.

He was accompanied by a skinny underling who seemed to be new to the business. The underling tried to act tough, but failed miserably: "We have connections above us, so keep your little schemes to yourself."

It's ridiculous. They were clearly sucking my blood and draining my marrow, but when I received that money and confirmed that each bill was genuine, I felt a strange sense of gratitude.

People can be really shameless sometimes.

With this money, the burden on my heart instantly lightened, and even my steps became lighter. To outsiders, I probably look like a child who hasn't grown up, jumping and skipping around, which seems inappropriate for my age.

Before going to the hospital, I went to a nearby pharmacy and bought medicine according to the doctor's prescription.

Unlike before, some medications are no longer available in hospitals; you have to take a prescription to a nearby pharmacy. Although I don't understand, the drug prices are negligible compared to the surgery fees, so I don't worry about it anymore.

The pharmacy is less than 500 meters away from the hospital.

This distance felt like an insurmountable chasm.

My memory is stuck on the scene where the Universiade barricaded the guardrail and came rushing towards me.

……

Unlike the kind and compassionate attending physician, the people in white coats here are all inhuman devils.

"Don't the people of the mortal realm need to be specially controlled?"

"Even they have to get stronger step by step. At most, they're only at the first level. See that gun on your waist? Point it at his head, and bang, it'll blow him up."

I am numb; this is not a description, but a state of being.

Since I woke up, the injections haven't stopped. They're like an anesthetic, keeping me in a semi-conscious state with some strange effects. I keep seeing things that are either spectacular or numbers that look like they're crawling on a dog's head; it's hard to describe the commonalities with a single word. Occasionally, I hear a buzzing sound like mosquitoes flying by, but I can't make it out.

I couldn't think about what the mortal realm was, or why I was here. My mind was foggy and stiff, and I felt like I had forgotten something.

On the seventh day, it was finally my turn to be carried onto the experimental table. My hands and feet were handcuffed to the four corners, and the glaring incandescent light shone on my eyes, as if it had ripped open my chest and exposed my bare interior.

"His body and mind haven't changed at all." They were clearly dissatisfied with my reaction. "We told you not to inject too much contaminant into the test subjects just for convenience, lest he develop a neurological problem."

It seems someone ran away halfway through, and when they returned, they were carrying something: "These are the things I brought with me."

"Medicine and money? I remember his medical report was a bit off, but it was still within the normal range, right?"

"It looks like medicine for a family member?"

They muttered something to each other, seemingly making a phone call to confirm something.

The testing table was slowly lifted, changing from horizontal to vertical, exposing my internal organs through the rupture. The pain was so intense that I could barely concentrate.

tear-

The doctor tore off a hundred-yuan bill with great distress and regret.

I stared motionlessly at the shredded paper in his hand, which spilled out like a rain of human blood.

One after another, each one a testament to my hard work.

Then I heard static again, which gradually became clearer.

"Where are the family members? Where are this old lady's family members?"

"The money deposited into the card is long gone! His son? He ran off with the money a long time ago!"

"Damn it, that bastard actually dared to run away! What about his family? Are they all dead?"

My eyes slowly turned bloodshot, my heart pounded with panic, and I tried to communicate with people from another world: "I didn't! The money is all here! It's all here!"

The doctors exchanged bewildered glances. They hadn't expected that simply tearing up banknotes could cause such a strong emotional reaction, until one of the doctors realized something, his eyes lighting up, and he suddenly lunged at me: "You heard the 'message'? What did you hear?"

"I didn't run away with the money..."

He shook me violently, as if my internal organs were being crushed together. My vision blurred again, and I yelled, "Concentrate on what's useful! Star Destroyers, space warp, whatever! Who cares if you run off with the money!"

"...I remember now."

"What did you remember?" the other person asked impatiently.

The doctor was met with a dull thud on his head.