He Yuzhu was lying on a cold hospital bed, surrounded by the pungent smell of disinfectant. Outside the window was the winter night of 2003 in Beijing, with neon lights passing through the glass and casting illusory light and shadow on the pale walls. He is sixty-three years old, has advanced lung cancer, and his life is like a candle in the wind.
"Uncle He, it's time to take your medicine." The young nurse pushed open the door and came in, her voice too light and inappropriate for the time.
He Yuzhu shook his head laboriously, his eyes falling on the worn aluminum lunch box at the end of the bed. It was the only thing he had left in his life, and it once contained the meals he cooked for his neighbors in the courtyard. He closed his eyes, and the scenes of his life flashed by like a revolving lantern:
Qin Huairu - the woman he had been obsessed with for half his life, but who eventually took away all his savings;
Xu Damao - his sworn enemy since childhood, who has designed to frame him again and again;
Yi Zhonghai—a man who appears to be fair but actually favors his relatives in every aspect;
Bangjian, Xiaodang, and Sophora japonica—the three children he regarded as his own, never even visited him in the hospital...
Regret bites the heart like a poisonous snake. He Yuzhu, an eighth-level chef at the Hongxing Steel Rolling Mill, was recognized as the "silly pillar" in the courtyard. He had worked hard all his life, but he ended up like this.
"If I could do it again..." His lips moved, but no sound came out.
The waveform on the electrocardiogram monitor gradually flattened out, and finally turned into a straight line of despair.
"The patient's heart has stopped! Prepare for electric shock!"
The shouts of medical staff gradually faded away, and He Yuzhu's consciousness sank into boundless darkness.
