The day my father suffered a sudden brain hemorrhage, I had just signed an eight-million-yuan deal. My fiancée called and said, “Once you’ve taken care of your dad’s situation, we need to talk about us.”
I rushed back to Chengdu. At the hospital, all I found was a critical condition notice. At the company, only eleven employees waiting for their paychecks remained, along with the cold, unforgiving figure in the books: 2.8 billion yuan in debt.
Everyone urged me to sell the company. I’d been planning to sell it myself.
Then I saw the handwritten note tucked beneath my father’s pillow. It read:
“Caring for our elders can’t rely on money alone. It takes heart.”
I slipped the breakup agreement into my pocket and told those eleven people, “I’ll take over this mess.”
