White Steel City, the city's public clinic.
A bearded, disheveled, fat-headed man in his forties, a pacifier still in his mouth, was kneeling before the hospital bed and weeping bitterly.
"Your old man is done for... The doctor said I've ascended to bliss, my Three Souls and Seven Spirits are dancing wildly... There's... there's no cure... Even the immortals... the immortals can't save me."
On the hospital bed lay the old stall owner, who had gone from extreme joy to grief. After all, when he was sent here, the explanation from Meteor Pavilion's interpreter had been that the medical clinic's doctor had made a casual diagnosis and decided that the patient had burst a blood vessel from overwhelming joy and sorrow, with refluxed blood rushing into his brain meridians. The doctor had then casually issued a critical-condition notice.
"Old Fool, you can't leave me alone! Old Fool! You promised you'd give me money today! I still have three orders totaling sixty-four thousand eight hundred spirit stones waiting to be spent on gacha!" The burly man was sobbing and sniffling. "What the hell am I supposed to do about my SSR Snow White? I don't want to wait for her rerun!"
"Cough, cough, cough... Daddy's gone. You must... you must take good care of yourself... And, and your grandma..."
"Old Fool, don't die! Tell me the secret of the safe at home first! And your bank password! What about the mortgage on the house? I don't have any money-making skills!"
"You... you have to learn to take care... take care of yourself. Our Sikong family... only... only has you left as its sole heir..."
"If you couldn't afford to raise me, why did you give birth to me? Useless! Useless!"
"Cough, cough, cough..." The old stall owner's face suddenly flushed red.