My dad had recorded the video he sent me together with my grandpa.
The video had been filmed at home. The two of them sat upright in front of the camera, looking awkward and nervous.
It looked like a confession video.
By then, Song Xiaotian and the others had gathered around too.
I pressed play in front of them.
"Chen Mo, forgive me for telling you the truth this way. I simply don't have the courage to face my son and tell him about the things I've done."
In the video, my dad's face was full of guilt. His head was lowered, and he didn't even dare look at the camera.
"Fifteen years ago, when you were eleven, you fell seriously ill. Nobody knew why you were so sick. Even the best doctors in our city couldn't find the cause. Your grandpa was superstitious, so he went to a fortune-teller to have your fortune read."
"The fortune-teller said this calamity was part of your fate, and you wouldn't survive it. If you fell gravely ill, even a miracle doctor couldn't save you. Within two months, you would die. Those were his exact words."
"And your condition really didn't look good. Even the doctors issued us a critical condition notice. We had no choice but to believe that fortune-teller. But as parents, how could we accept losing our child just like that after raising him for eleven years?"
My dad raised his head, his eyes reddening as he faced the camera. "I couldn't accept it. Neither could your grandpa, and your mom found it even harder. We had no other choice but to beg that fortune-teller to find a way to save you."
"Later, he taught us a method. That method... was the Seven Deaths Life-Exchange Art. He taught it to