Chapter 11

After the call ended, Xia Zui found herself wide awake. She lay on her bed, scrolling through her phone, searching for information about leukemia.

Many videos popped up—stories of students suddenly diagnosed with leukemia, their once lively and cheerful spirits replaced by the stark reality of shaved heads and days spent bedridden, waiting for treatment with a mixture of confusion and pain.

There were also children with leukemia, at an age meant for play, yet seemingly having their wings broken before they could truly fly.

Families were thrown into chaos—financial strain, the looming fear of losing loved ones, and the arrival of tragic news.

Illness is a common occurrence, yet when faced with grave disease, even the strongest souls grow fragile under the weight of their own suffering and the anguish of those they hold dear.

Xia Zui watched a vlog by a cancer patient. At first, the person wept from the torment of pain, but gradually summoned strength to confront the illness, determined to overcome it.

In the end, the screen went black. The last words left behind read:

“I am glad to have come into this world. Life is brief, but I have no regrets. I hope, someday, my parents will have a healthy child. Goodbye.”

That was the last update from the vlogger.

Xia Zui felt a sharp discomfort in her throat; swallowing felt like forcing heavy stones up a blocked path, growing more and more congested.

“Xia Xia, if it’s too painful, don’t watch,” Eleven said with concern.

As a system, it struggled to truly grasp human emotions, yet it nonetheless experienced their joys and sorrows. It could comprehend pain too—though for them, it was just a matter of a malfunction needing repair.

The system had never left her side; even when it did, it was only to complete tasks or take brief journeys.

But when it sensed Xia Zui’s distress, it shared in her suffering. The host’s emotions reflected back upon it, allowing it to empathize.

Meanwhile, the Wealthy Patron System was wailing loudly nearby, overwhelmed by feelings it had never encountered. The previous host had been happy almost every day—even when upset, other feelings soon gave way to joy.

This new sensation was alien, as if its very components were falling apart.

“Maybe you should go watch a streamer for a while, Xia Xia. I feel like you’re unhappy,” Eleven cautiously suggested.

Xia Zui shook her head. “There are people who need help more right now.”

She couldn’t bring herself to enjoy shallow pleasures—sending gifts and gaining fleeting happiness—when she now fully understood the hardships others endured.

Especially when she had the means to help them.

Taking a deep breath, she asked, “Can this money be transferred directly to them?”

The Wealthy Patron System sobbed, “No, no, it can’t be done.”

Eleven interjected to help, “The Wealthy Patron System’s funds can only be used online. Even donations aren’t allowed—it can only be used to buy virtual currency.”

Its voice grew softer, clearly feeling guilty for being unable to assist Xia Xia.

Xia Zui sighed. “Alright then.”

Though there were processing fees, there was no better option. Among online platforms, only Catpaw allowed gifts sent today to be cashed out the next day.

Other platforms might split earnings fifty-fifty, but their withdrawal fees were higher, and some only allowed withdrawals once a month.

“Go to sleep!” Xia Zui closed her eyes.

She had to sleep. She only fell asleep after five in the morning and now had to rise so early; her energy was utterly drained.

***

Not long after, Xia Zui finally drifted into sleep.

At the hospital.

Pan Shuangyu pondered for a long time. Kang Xin needed care, and she couldn’t be away. It was impossible to visit every family in need.

Besides, Mrs. Xia had said at the end of their call that she was willing to provide eighty-seven million yuan in aid—but it had to go through the Catpaw platform.

In reality, that meant only forty-three and a half million yuan could be effectively offered.

Still, it was a substantial amount.

Kang Honghou entered carrying a bag of grapes, smiling. “Xin Xin, look what I brought.”

He raised the grapes playfully. “The doctor said you can eat some grapes. Wait for Daddy to wash them.”

“Hey,” Pan Shuangyu called after him. “Mrs. Xia just called me. She wants me to help identify other patients in need at the hospital. She’s willing to donate over eighty million yuan.”

“But the amount is so large, and I can’t leave Xin Xin’s side.”

Kang Xin shook her head. “Mom, it’s okay. You should help Xia Xia. There are many people waiting.”

Kang Honghou sighed at her words. “Over eighty million. Mrs. Xia is truly a good person.”

“This might be too much for just the two of us to handle, but I can talk to the doctors and see if they can help.”

“After all, doctors know far more than we do.”

Pan Shuangyu furrowed her brow but nodded in agreement. “That is a good idea.”

“Tell me exactly what Mrs. Xia said, and I’ll discuss it with the doctors.”

After Pan Shuangyu explained in detail, Kang Honghou listened attentively, nodding.

“Alright, I’ll go talk to the doctors and explain everything.”

“Wash the grapes for Xin Xin; she should eat a couple.”

With that, Kang Honghou left the ward and walked to Dr. Chen’s office. He peeked inside and saw her engrossed in writing medical records.

He knocked softly, then opened the door.

Dr. Chen, a middle-aged woman with curly gray hair and glasses, looked up. “You’re here about Kang Xin, right?”

“Her condition is worsening. I personally recommend a bone marrow transplant.”

Adjusting her glasses, Dr. Chen said, “I know your situation is difficult, but this illness can’t be delayed.”

Kang Honghou nodded, fully aware of the urgency. “We’re planning surgery in a few days.”

He had researched the success rates and hoped for the operation to take place as soon as possible—if only money hadn’t been an issue before.

Hearing this, Dr. Chen nodded approvingly. “That’s good.”

She assumed they had managed to secure the funds.

Sigh.

As a doctor, many things were beyond her control. She had seen countless patients sent home to await death because they couldn’t afford treatment.

“Dr. Chen, I came for another matter,” Kang Honghou said, sitting opposite her. “Xin Xin is an author. One of her readers, after learning about her situation, made a donation.”

“The donor is Mrs. Xia. She didn’t want to disclose her full name. She spoke to Xin Xin’s mother and wants to help other critically ill patients in the hospital who urgently need funds.”

“She asked us to help compile a list, but we can’t leave Xin Xin’s side, and we don’t know many people. If we approached others out of the blue, they might think we’re scammers.”

“So I thought I’d come to you and see if you could assist Mrs. Xia in identifying those in need.”

Dr. Chen listened carefully, nodding slightly. “That’s a noble cause. Approximately how much is Mrs. Xia willing to donate?”

Kang Honghou rubbed his thumb. “She said over forty-three million yuan, but…”

At the mention of forty-three million, Dr. Chen straightened. Such a donation could save countless lives.

“But what?” she asked, wondering if Mrs. Xia intended to promote the hospital or had other conditions. As long as they weren’t unreasonable, she would discuss it with the hospital director.

Kang Honghou continued, “Strictly speaking, Mrs. Xia planned to donate over eighty million yuan, but her funds are tied up in a live-streaming platform.”

“If she wants to donate, she can only do so by sending gifts on the platform, which can be cashed out the next day.”

“The platform takes a fifty percent commission.”

He sounded pained as he spoke—Mrs. Xia had lost one and a half million yuan just trying to help Xin Xin.

Sigh.

Dr. Chen frowned slightly. “That method…”

Kang Honghou added, “Mrs. Xia donated to Xin Xin in the early hours today. The money should be withdrawable tomorrow. Her only request is that all future donations go through the live-streaming platform.”

This matched what Xia Zui had later told Pan Shuangyu. Since her funds were currently in Catpaw, clarity was necessary to avoid misunderstandings.

Dr. Chen nodded. “Understood. I will discuss this with the director and get back to you tomorrow.”

Kang Honghou nodded, knowing the doctor couldn’t decide alone. But consulting the director was a good step.

If the director agreed, the doctors would compile the list and hand it over to Mrs. Xia.

After Kang Honghou left, Dr. Chen took off her glasses, rubbed her face, and pondered quietly.

She said she’d respond tomorrow mainly to see if Kang Honghou’s family received the money. Only then could she make arrangements.

Still, she had to inform the director first. If the donation was genuine, swift action was necessary—some patients couldn’t wait.

Putting her glasses back on, she closed the medical record and left her office.

***

Night had just turned past midnight when Kang Xin nervously opened the Catpaw backend. Kang Honghou and Pan Shuangyu watched by her side.

Swallowing nervously, Kang Xin saw her account displayed a balance of one and a half million yuan.

She clicked “withdraw,” entered her bank card number, and then a prompt appeared:

[Withdrawal requested. Funds will arrive within two hours. Please check your account.]

Pan Shuangyu gripped the bedsheet tightly, only relaxing her hold once the withdrawal was confirmed.

“Two more hours,” Kang Honghou’s voice trembled. “Xin Xin, go to sleep now. Leave your phone with Dad. I’ll be here watching.”

Though everyone was anxious, Kang Xin had to rest.

Pan Shuangyu nodded quickly. “Don’t be afraid. Go to sleep. Once the money arrives, we’ll discuss your surgery with the doctors.”