Reborn a day later, I emptied my enemy's possessions beforehand.

Zhou Haibing slowly walked down the steps at the hospital entrance, but his mind involuntarily drifted back to everything that had happened during this period.

It all started about two weeks ago.

That day he was in the hospital. The head of the oncology department at the provincial people's hospital was holding his test report with a subtle expression, the kind of expression a doctor has when they want to tell you bad news but don't know how to say it.

The doctor said, "Mr. Zhou, your test results are in. It's pancreatic cancer. It was discovered a bit late, but we still recommend that you be hospitalized for treatment as soon as possible."

Zhou Haibing was very calm at the time, even calmer than the doctor.

He had long felt that something was wrong with his body. He had lost more than 20 kilograms in the past six months, had a dull stomachache, and had a decreasing appetite. As someone who worked in the pharmaceutical industry, he knew better than anyone what these symptoms meant.

So when he heard the words "pancreatic cancer," he just sighed inwardly. He didn't break down, didn't cry, and didn't even ask how much longer he could live.

After leaving the hospital, he drove to the company.

His thought at the time was that since he didn't have much time left, he should quickly arrange the company's affairs, such as how to distribute the shares and how to determine his successor. These things needed to be dealt with in advance.

He owns 80% of the shares in Haibing Pharmaceutical Company, and the remaining 20% ​​is registered under his wife Sun Guiying's name.

He originally planned to divide 80% of the shares into three parts: 40% to his son Zhou Dongsheng, 30% to Sun Guiying, and 10% to establish a scholarship fund.

He went to the company and found the CFO, a long-time employee he had hired ten years ago, someone he trusted.

He wanted to check the company's equity structure first, so he would have a better understanding of the situation.

When the CFO showed him the latest shareholder list, Zhou Haibing thought he had misread it.

He rubbed his eyes, took the roster to the window, and looked at it again by the light.

That's right.

The percentage of shares he holds, listed after his name, is one percent.

The shareholding percentage listed after Sun Guiying's name is 99%.

His first reaction wasn't anger, it was disbelief.

He felt that the company's legal department had made a mistake, or that there was something wrong with the system.

He told the CFO, "Get all the agreements and documents related to each equity transfer, I need to see them."

The CFO quickly retrieved the documents.

The most recent equity change occurred half a month ago. The transferor was Zhou Haibing, and the transferee was Sun Guiying. The number of shares transferred corresponded to 79% of the company's equity. The documents had Zhou Haibing's signature, fingerprints, and notarized documents, all of which were complete.

Zhou Haibing looked at his name in the signature column. Every stroke was indeed his handwriting, but the signature was crooked and messy, as if it had been written by someone in a state of extreme confusion.

He had absolutely no recollection of it, and he was 100% certain that he had never signed the document.

Clutching the copy of the document, he stood in the CFO's office, his mind buzzing like a million bees.

He didn't lash out in front of the CFO. He folded the document copy, put it in his bag, said "I understand," and left the company.

The moment he sat in the car, he felt completely drained and slumped in the driver's seat.

Seventy-nine percent of his shares are gone. He built Haibing Pharmaceutical Company from scratch, starting as a small drug dealer, setting up street stalls, renting counters, going to hospitals, and even begging on his knees. He worked his way up step by step to build the company worth over a billion yuan. His hard work and his entire life were stolen away.

The person who stole it was his wife, with whom he had shared a bed for thirty years.

He wanted to rush home immediately to confront Sun Guiying, but reason told him he couldn't act impulsively; he needed more evidence.

When he got home, he had just reached the door when he heard Sun Guiying's voice coming from the living room, as if she was having a video call with someone.

"Brother Jinshan, don't worry, that old bastard has already signed. Ninety-nine percent of the shares are now in my name. He only has one percent left, so he can't cause any trouble."

Zhou Haibing was stunned.

Brother Jinshan?

Wang Jinshan.

His childhood friend, someone he grew up with.

They came from the same village. As children, they would go fishing in the river together, even with their bottoms exposed, and steal pears from the old man next door. They even went to high school in town together.

Later, he made a fortune in business, while Wang Jinshan failed to achieve anything significant. So, he arranged for Wang Jinshan to become the vice president of his company, paying him a monthly salary of 20,000 yuan and additional red envelopes during holidays.

He treated Wang Jinshan better than his own brother, never expecting that Wang Jinshan was also involved in Sun Guiying stealing his company shares.

He stood quietly at the doorway, peeking through the crack.

Sun Guiying was sitting on the sofa with her phone propped up on the coffee table, the screen showing Wang Jinshan's familiar face.

Wang Jinshan's voice came from the other end, carrying a smugness and flippancy he had never heard before:

"Guiying, how much alcohol did you get him drunk that night? That transfer agreement is dozens of pages long, and I'm a little worried that he won't be able to read it carefully when he signs it."

"He downed two bottles of Moutai. By the third glass, his tongue was already tied in knots. By the sixth glass, he was practically lying under the table. He would sign whatever I asked him to sign."

Sun Guiying's voice was laced with laughter, a laughter Zhou Haibing knew all too well. In all their years of marriage, she had laughed at him countless times, but never before had her laughter sent chills down his spine like this.

"Brother Jinshan, your idea is brilliant! It saves so much trouble."

If I divorced him and tried to divide the assets, I'd only get half at most. It's not as straightforward as this.

"How has he been feeling lately?" Wang Jinshan asked.

"Don't even mention it. That old man was as thin as a monkey. I secretly looked through his medical reports in the drawer in his study. Pancreatic cancer, late stage."

Sun Guiying spoke casually, as if she were simply saying that the weather was nice today.

"Last time we went to the hospital, the doctor wanted him to be hospitalized, but he refused, saying that he hadn't finished arranging things at the company. I don't think he can hold on for much longer."

Zhou Haibing's blood seemed to freeze at this moment, yet it also seemed to boil at this moment.

He stared intently at his phone screen, his knuckles turning white from the pressure.

"Pancreatic cancer?" Wang Jinshan's voice rose half an octave, but that half-octave wasn't out of worry, it was out of excitement. "Late stage? Doesn't that mean it's coming soon?"

"It could be a few months at the fastest, or a year and a half at the slowest," Sun Guiying said, then she laughed—a laugh that sent chills down Zhou Haibing's spine.

"Brother Jinshan, once he dies, our family of three can be reunited legitimately."

I've already spoken to Dongsheng; he's fine. He's never considered that old man his father.

A family of three.

These three words were like three knives, stabbing into Zhou Haibing's heart one after another.

A family of three? Where did this family of three come from?

What does Wang Jinshan mean by "a family of three"?

When did Wang Jinshan become a member of their family?

Before he could think about it in detail, Sun Guiying's next sentence gave him the answer.