Chapter : 01
In the sweltering heat of midnight, the ambulance raced through the crowded streets, sirens wailing urgently, trying to outrun death itself.
“Movement! His eyes moved!”
Before Zhou Qingluo could lift his eyelids, a young woman’s excited voice hit his ears.
He tried to open his eyes, but his eyelids felt pressed down as if by the King of Hell himself.
Hearing the ambulance, Zhou Qingluo felt a little relieved.
He had heart disease and had long been an old rival of death. This time, in the battle with the King of Hell, it looked like he had won again.
He was a somewhat famous comic artist, occasionally drawing silly comics online and writing humorous posts. Unexpectedly, they went viral, making him a successful man—a combination of comic artist and popular humor blogger.
A comic magazine didn’t mind that he had heart disease and hired him to work.
Zhou Qingluo hadn’t wanted to go. His comic royalties and online popularity could already support him for life.
But humans are naturally curious, and he wanted to experience being “beaten by society while carrying full benefits.”
He didn’t expect that working meant not just benefits but also overtime, plus a strange boss with no sense of humor who constantly demanded revisions.
So, while working late writing jokes and finishing assignments, his heart gave out, and he blacked out.
Laughable—going to work can kill you.
When he woke up this time, he vowed to slap his resignation letter in his boss’s face and mimic the boss, pointing and yelling:
“Revise your own manuscript! I quit! Idiot! Fool! Moron!”
He had already earned enough money to replace his heart, and even if he couldn’t, it was enough to live comfortably for life.
He never planned to marry anyway; life was perfect eating alone and worrying about no one else.
As long as he lived, there was hope.
Zhou Qingluo drifted in thought, boosting his will to survive, when the young woman’s voice returned:
“He smiled! He smiled!”
A slightly deeper male voice teased, “This patient’s got a sense of humor—he can still smile at a time like this.”
At that moment, someone lifted the eyelids pressed down by death. A strong light hit his pupils, and the chaos of darkness in his mind suddenly vanished.
“The patient is stable for now.”
When the male voice spoke, everyone around Zhou Qingluo exhaled in relief at the same time.
The atmosphere lightened considerably, and voices continued around him.
“These young people don’t take care of their bodies. He’s allergic to alcohol, yet he drank so much.”
“Exactly. Why not just live properly?”
Hearing the words “live properly,” Zhou Qingluo summoned all his survival instinct and forcefully opened his eyes.
Of course, living properly was what he wanted.
Opening his eyes was instinctive, but all he saw was white.
He blinked a few times until his vision cleared and realized he was surrounded by doctors in white coats.
Zhou Qingluo drew in a breath, “Thank you, doctor.”
His breath was short, so the words “doctor” could only be mouthed.
One doctor exhaled, “This young man’s desire to survive is very strong.”
Zhou Qingluo pulled at the corner of his lips in a smile, “Thanks, I’ll send you a banner later.”
Now he had enough strength to say more words, but “banner” still had to be mouthed.
Doctor: “Alright, no need to thank me. Save your strength—you still have treatment ahead in the hospital.”
