The little notebook in Grandma Yun's hand looked utterly ordinary, yet it was practically the King of Hell's Book of Life and Death!
The notebook was crammed with patient information, and not one of them was an ordinary person. Every one was a prominent figure. Numerous little labels were stuck along the page edges, each bearing a date.
That deadline was the date of death she had predicted for each patient. Whenever terminally ill patients came to see her, she would leave behind a prediction like this that night.
Grandma Yun conducted follow-up visits to confirm that every death date took effect on schedule. In all her decades of practice, she had rarely been wrong. Occasionally, a patient would still be alive when the date arrived, and she would carefully investigate, because it meant that some expert or novel treatment had appeared, allowing the patient to cling to life a little longer.
Her finger swept over the labels one by one before stopping at one dated yesterday.
She opened it. It contained information on Boss Wu, a gold mine owner. He had late-stage stomach cancer with severe metastasis. After the major hospitals had sentenced him to death, he had come here to try his luck. But even Grandma Yun had been powerless against his condition. After leaving, Boss Wu had crossed the ocean to the Mayo Clinic, and there had been no word from him for a year.
She took out her phone, found Boss Wu among her WeChat contacts, and sent him a simple greeting.
"How is your condition?"
After waiting a long while, as expected, there was no response.
It was only to be expected. Most patients stopped replying after they passed away. Occasionally, a family member would respond once, but after some time, the number would become