"Alright, I understand."
In a high-end hotel in the city center, a professional-looking woman in a fitted business suit held her phone and spoke earnestly. "Don’t worry, sir. Whether the medicine works or not, we won’t hold you accountable. We can also draft a contract if needed."
"And the price of 300,000 is acceptable. I agree to this reasonable offer."
"Good. I’ve already sent a courier to deliver it to your address. Make sure to check for it," Luo's father replied over the phone.
Qiao Xin acknowledged with a sound of agreement.
Just then, there was a knock at the door. Qiao Xin quickly opened it to find a delivery robot standing outside.
"You have a food delivery," the robot announced—since regular delivery personnel weren’t allowed upstairs, all orders were handled by robots.
"Is this it?" Qiao Xin entered the retrieval code, and within seconds, she pulled out a small paper box from the robot’s compartment. Inside was a tiny pill, unremarkable in appearance.
Dark and grimy.
Almost like a ball of dirt.
She sniffed it, and an indescribable stench immediately made her frown.
Was this really the right thing?
Why did it smell so revolting? In her twenties, Qiao Xin couldn’t recall ever encountering anything this foul.
She took a photo with her phone and sent it to Luo's father for confirmation. Once he verified it was indeed the pill he’d sent, she placed it back in the box.
Qiao Xin had already done her research on Luo's family—a remarried household, ordinary with nothing particularly unusual. The couple had a daughter in college, and Luo's mother’s health had indeed taken a sudden turn for the better.
Her decision to reach out to them had been entirely coincidental, with no signs of premeditation.
And for some inexplicable reason, she found herself believing in the efficacy of this so-called "family heirloom remedy." Perhaps when people were at their most desperate, they clung to even the faintest glimmer of hope.
Whether it was prayers to gods or God Himself, the underlying sentiment was always the same: "What if? Maybe?"
Clutching the box, Qiao Xin hurried to the hospital.
Grandpa Qiao was still awake, staring blankly at the ceiling as if lost in thought, the steady hum of the ventilator filling the room.
When he noticed Qiao Xin, his weary face softened into a faint smile. "Xin… what’s the matter?"
She sat beside his bed, first adjusting his blanket before asking gently, "Grandpa, are you feeling any better?"
"Heh… cough… a little." Grandpa Qiao chuckled weakly.
Just seeing his granddaughter seemed to lift his spirits. Yet, even so, he didn’t want her wasting her energy on an old man like him. Despite his years of dominance in the business world, time had caught up with him.
Looking back now, he realized that good health was the greatest wealth of all.
But this illness had also revealed many truths. Without him holding things together, his sons’ incompetence had become painfully clear.
For all their talk of filial piety, not one of them had even bothered to visit the hospital.
"Grandpa, I got hold of a family heirloom pill. A woman with the same condition as yours showed significant improvement after taking it…" Qiao Xin explained.
Grandpa Qiao seemed to understand her intentions. He reached out and patted her hand lightly.
"It’s alright… No one would blame you for trying, Xin’er."
"If only I were ten years younger, I could’ve cleared the path for you."
He sighed deeply, then noticed the pill in Qiao Xin’s hand. "Is this it? Let me take it."
Qiao Xin shook her head. "Grandpa, we should test it first."
Since its ingredients were unknown, she wanted to have it analyzed to avoid any risks.
"It’s fine… Even if it’s poison, it doesn’t matter. This old man doesn’t have much time left anyway," Grandpa Qiao said calmly.
His body was already failing—things couldn’t get much worse.
He planned to swallow the pill and then reassure Qiao Xin that it had worked, just to give her some peace of mind.
Qiao Xin understood his reasoning. Waiting for test results could take too long, and there was no telling how many days her grandfather had left.
"Then… let me get you some water." Knowing she couldn’t change his mind, she poured him a glass.
"Heh, alright."
The mechanical hospital bed adjusted, raising him into a semi-reclined position. After swallowing the pill, Grandpa Qiao was nearly overwhelmed by its foul taste. But as a man who’d weathered countless storms, he took another sip of water to wash it down.
Just as he was about to speak, his throat tightened.
His ashen face suddenly flushed red.
"Grandpa, are you choking?!" Qiao Xin panicked, ready to call for a nurse.
But before she could move, Grandpa Qiao grabbed her wrist and shook his head. "No."
He took a deep breath, and his once-cloudy eyes seemed to brighten.
"Why… do I feel better already?"
He could sense strength returning to his weakened body—an almost unbelievable change.
Qiao Xin was stunned. Better already?
Could the medicine work that fast?
She wanted to say that drugs didn’t take effect so quickly, but the color returning to her grandfather’s face made her hold her tongue.
What was happening?
Was it just a placebo effect?
But the healthy flush on his face seemed too real to dismiss.
"Sigh… Truly remarkable. Far more effective than any hospital medication," Grandpa Qiao exhaled slowly.
Then he coughed again.
"Grandpa…"
"It’s nothing." He waved her off. "Do you have more of this medicine?"
For some reason, it had reignited his hope.
If there was a choice, who would willingly resign themselves to suffering?
He’d built an empire, and now, with the company in turmoil, he wouldn’t be lying helplessly in a hospital bed if not for his failing health.
"Yes—yes! The seller is willing to provide more," Qiao Xin replied, her voice trembling with excitement now that the pill’s effects were confirmed.
he colors of other people’s emotions. Light red meant anxiety. Gray meant exhaustion. Orange meant excitement. Yellow... meant repression. At the same time, he could gain unlimited control over one of those colors. Pale cyan: relaxation. Using this ability, he started offering “two-yuan hugs,” spending an afternoon exchanging emotional-color experiences with others. Then came his final female customer of the day— a girl whose emotional color was pure black... —— A week later, Xu Chuan had become skilled at using pale cyan—Relaxation—treating it like a bottle of menthol balm whenever he needed it. That was when he discovered he had unlocked another unlimited emotional color: Purple, the color of fear. So these emotional colors refresh every week? Fine, I take it back—I’ll never call you useless again... —— Much later, after Xu Chuan had accumulated countless emotional abilities, one night, he suddenly found himself inside someone else’s dream. There, he could use the emotional colors he possessed to paint. And in her dream, he painted her a shower of pink shooting stars, spreading across the depths of the night sky...
s the Eldest Princess, renowned for her cold and aloof detachment, became the most docile of lambs, obeying his every command without question. But when the final move was played on the chessboard, as Gu Chenghan seized everything and ascended on the verge of apotheosis, that very Princess suddenly embraced him from behind, her tone carrying a dependence never heard before: "Wait... you haven't yet... commanded me to love you forever." Gu Chenghan froze abruptly. She... hadn't been hypnotized?! ... [The Eldest Princess's Diary] [When my soul was extracted, becoming the sole spectator outside my own shell] [At first, there was overwhelming fury, until I saw] [How he used my sword to effortlessly shatter my inescapable doom] [How he wielded my authority to eradicate fatal conspiracies I had never even detected] [Like a deity, he rescued me from the deep mire I was trapped in] [If not for those annoying vixens, he and I would be a match made in heaven] [I think I am ill, gravely ill] [My deity should belong to me alone] ... "Hypnosis? Oh, it succeeded, my dear Master." "Only this time, it's my turn to hypnotize you."
't think I'm that capable, I'm just trying my best to stay alive. I've been kind all my life, never did anything bad, yet worldly suffering spared me not one bit. The human world is a nice place, but I won't come back in my next life. A kind young man, who wanted to just get by singing, but through repeated deceits and betrayals, has gone down an irredeemable path.
to panic—he has a system. As long as an investment target dies, he can claim a reward. And since he is immortal, the one thing he has plenty of is time. ... Countless years later. “Immortal Emperor of Longevity? I invested in him.” “Supreme Celestial Venerable? I invested in him.” “Undying Empress? I invested in her.” “...” “Heh. Once they’ve all died, even the Heavenly Dao will have to kneel and call me Dad.”
