Chapter 0: A Fisherman Never Returns Empty-Handed  

The scorching sun blazed overhead, and the air was thick with heat. In a hospital room, a man lay on the bed, his body so frail that his age was impossible to guess. 

"Mom, don't cry. I'm fine," he said weakly, trying to comfort the middle-aged woman beside him. His body was nothing but skin and bones. He wanted to lift his hand, but he had no strength left. 

Yang Tao was twenty-eight years old and in the final stages of stomach cancer. Once a good-looking young man, his weight had dropped from 150 pounds to less than 80 in a short time. At this point, he was barely holding on, relying entirely on painkillers and protein to survive. Without them, he would have been gone long ago. 

From the beginning, he had tried to persuade his parents not to waste money on treatments that wouldn't save him. The daily medical expenses were around 2,000 yuan, and their family wasn't well-off. He also had a younger brother, and he didn't want to drag the whole family down with him. But his parents refused to give up. 

Still, no matter what, the curtain was about to close. 

A wave of pain struck again. Yang Tao's already yellowed face turned even paler, and beads of sweat rolled down his forehead. But the pain, oddly enough, cleared his mind for a moment. 

"Son, does it hurt again? I'll call the doctor for another shot," his mother said in a panic, wiping her tears. She looked so much older now compared to how he remembered her. 

During these days in the hospital, his parents had taken care of him around the clock. His mother, who used to be so well-groomed, now had her hair messily tied up. Her once smiling face was now full of sorrow and exhaustion. 

"Call Dad. Tell him to come. I want to see him." 

Maybe people have a sense when death is near. Yang Tao could feel it—his body felt light, and the pain was fading away, as if everything was getting better. 

His mother's expression changed instantly. She hurriedly grabbed her phone and called his father, unable to hold back her tears any longer. 

"Son, you're so cruel… What am I supposed to do without you?" She was on the verge of breaking down. 

Not long after, his father rushed into the room, his eyes bloodshot as he walked toward the bed. 

"What's wrong?" he asked his wife. 

"Your son wants to talk to you," she said, still wiping her tears. 

Yang Tao's face suddenly looked rosier, and his whole demeanor seemed more relaxed. 

"Dad, I want to tell you something. Drink less, quit smoking. It's bad for your health." 

"I won't smoke anymore. How are you feeling? Still in pain?" 

"It doesn't hurt now… I'm sorry I won't be able to stay with you both till old age. Take care of yourselves." 

The hospital room was filled with quiet conversation. Time ticked by, second by second. 

A wave of drowsiness hit Yang Tao. He knew… this was it. 

"Damn this fate…" he muttered bitterly, his final words. 

He could no longer fight off the overwhelming sleepiness. It felt like he was falling, sinking into nothingness. The piercing alarm of the heart monitor rang in his ears, mixed with his mother's sobs and his father's urgent cries for a doctor. 

 The sounds grew fainter and fainter… until everything disappeared. 

There was nothing left. No time, no space, no thoughts, no feelings. Everything vanished into emptiness.