He Yuzhu lay in a cold hospital bed, surrounded by the sharp smell of disinfectant. Outside the window, it was a winter night in Beijing in 2003, and neon lights cast illusory shadows across the pale walls. He was sixty-three, with late-stage lung cancer, his life flickering like a candle in the wind.
“Uncle He, it's time for your medicine.” A young nurse came through the door, her voice inappropriately cheerful.
He Yuzhu shook his head with effort. His gaze fell on the battered aluminum lunchbox at the foot of the bed. It was the only thing he had left from his whole life, once used to carry the meals he made for his neighbors in the courtyard. He closed his eyes, and scenes from his life flashed before him:
Qin Huairu, the woman he had been infatuated with for half his life, who ultimately took all his savings;
Xu Damao, his lifelong nemesis, who had framed and plotted against him again and again;
Yi Zhonghai, the seemingly fair First Uncle, who in fact always favored his own relatives;
Bang Geng, Xiao Dang, and Huai Hua, the three children he had treated as his own, not one of whom had visited him in the hospital…
Regret gnawed at his heart like a poisonous snake. He Yuzhu, an eighth-grade chef at the Hongxing Steel Mill and the courtyard's notorious “Silly Zhu,” had worked hard all his life, only to end up like this.
“If only I could start over…” His lips moved, but no sound came out.
The waveform on the heart monitor gradually flattened, finally becoming a desperate straight line.
“The patient's heart has stopped! Get the defibrillator ready!”
The medical staff's shouts faded into the distance, and He Yuzhu's consciousness sank into endless darkness.
