Delivery Countdown: Chen Qing’s 87 Days

Modern life, everyday people, no System, ordinary protagonist, suspense, relationships, revenge, the warmth of daily life, stories about those around us My name is Chen Qing. I’ve been delivering packages in western Jiangzhou for six years. I’m awkward with words and have no special skills; I support my family with a beat-up electric scooter. My father suffered a second stroke, and the doctor gave me an ultimatum: 87 days, 80,000 yuan for surgery. If we couldn’t raise it, he was done for. I searched every corner of the house and found less than 5,000. My delivery fee had dropped to 70 cents per package, and one complaint meant a 200-yuan fine. I ran the numbers all day, but no matter how I worked, I couldn’t make enough. When I was desperate, I began receiving strange anonymous packages. Each paid three yuan, and inside the box was nothing but a note with a name, an amount, and a date. One recorded exactly how a fruit-stall owner had been cheated out of 200,000 yuan. The sender was hiding in the shadows, the scammers were out in the open, and my father’s life was on a countdown. After six years delivering packages, I never imagined that one day the wheels beneath me would run over more than just a way to survive. They’d uncover the truth, too. My name is Chen Qing. I’m still a delivery driver. But I don’t plan to stay silent anymore.