My Death Was Known Three Years Later

To cast herself as the victim, my mother actually began slapping her own face in public.

Clutching her swollen cheek, her voice trembling, she said, "Nicolas, this is my fault. Didn't you want money? I have plenty now—so much money! I'll transfer it to you right away!"

As she spoke, she shakily sent me five thousand dollars.

Then, with a look of utter submission, she dropped to her knees with a loud thud.

"I really know I was wrong. Please… please forgive me."

The livestream exploded with outrage.

[Calling him unfilial before was giving him too much credit.]

[Unfilial? He's a damn animal!]

[Making his own mother kneel and beg? Isn't he afraid of karma?!]

The scene felt eerily familiar, dragging me back to the beginning of the school year.

Back then, she had clearly known I wouldn't accept a large transfer—yet she insisted on sending me two thousand dollars anyway, urging me not to mistreat myself.

"Eat whatever you want. It's just the family's savings. If it's gone, Mom will just earn more."

Watching her clutch that stack of wrinkled cash, I felt like I couldn't breathe.

Without hesitation, I returned the transfer and chose the two dollars in her hand instead.

After that, even when I couldn't afford a 30-cent boxed meal, I didn't dare ask her for a single cent.

That same night, I became the biggest joke in class—digging through trash bins for bottles to sell.

And yet, fate has a cruel sense of humor.

While I was waiting for my part-time job to pay me, I suddenly suffered a gastric perforation. Curled up in the snow outside the hospital, my absurd life came to an end.

Now, without any response from me, my mother cried even harder. She kept turning to my brother, asking, "Why isn't your brother accepting it? Does he think it's not enough? Does he think I'm a useless mother?"

The flood of insults surged, threatening to swallow me whole.

[My god! What kind of monster holds a grudge against his mother for three years over a little pocket money?!]

[When I was in college, I didn't even have the heart to ask my family for living expenses.]

[Please! Can children like this just stop reincarnating? Don't come torment mothers like us!]

[This is terrifying—I don't even dare to have kids anymore!]

[No wonder his brother's a top scorer and he isn't. Born rotten to the core!]

What they didn't know was that this so-called "rotten seed" had missed his chance at becoming the top scorer because of the very woman standing before them. That year, in the state-wide mock exams, I—who had always ranked near the top—finally took first place overall.

Even my homeroom teacher couldn't help but marvel that a student of his might actually be a state top scorer.

But on the very day I brought my results home to share the good news, my father was suddenly in a car accident. His skull was fractured, his left hand shattered beyond repair, and seven of his ribs were broken.

The fact that he survived at all was nothing short of a miracle.

Afraid that my mother would suffer too much caring for him alone, I went online to learn basic nursing skills.

To keep up with my studies, I nearly ran myself into the ground—often clutching my textbooks during self-study periods while rushing to the hospital to relieve her so she could rest.

But one night, simply because I didn't offer her the first bite of my takeout, she rolled her eyes and began her passive-aggressive tirade.

"You really don't know how to care about others. With how selfish you are, do you even have a single friend at school?"

For a moment, I thought the takeout I'd ordered for them earlier hadn't arrived yet. But when I saw the untouched containers, I realized—she just didn't like the burger and fries.

I was about to order her favorite mac and cheese, but she waved me off impatiently.

"Forget it. Those with a heart don't need to be taught. Those without one never learn. In this world, the only one who truly cares about your father and me is your younger brother."

My whole body trembled with anger as I tried to argue back, but she cut me off first.

"Oh my, my son's all grown up now. Can't even say a word to him anymore.

"I was just testing you. Did you really think I cared about that bit of takeout? Fine. If I can't provoke you, I'll just leave. I'll go."

With that, she grabbed her bag with a haughty expression and left for her parents' house with my brother.

They were gone for two full months. I had no choice but to take leave from school and stay by my father's side day and night.

But even as I held out the soup I had painstakingly bought, my father sighed, "If only your mom and your brother were here."

That day, my fingers clenched so tightly they turned white, the joints cracking with pain. I wanted to scream. And yet, I forced myself to endure that lightless stretch of time.

Until the day of the nationwide exams.

Only then did the mother and son finally return to the hospital, heavier than before, carrying bags full of new clothes.

And the exhaustion I had accumulated over those two months finally caught up with me—I collapsed unconscious halfway through the last exam.

My score ended up more than a hundred points below my usual performance, barely scraping past the cutoff for a first-tier university.

Thinking of it now, an indescribable feeling wraps tightly around me.

The next moment, a well-dressed woman stepped forward and handed my mother a business card.

"Hi, I'm a casting director from Entopia TV. We're currently working on a show about parent-child relationships. I was wondering… would you let us help your hopeless oldest son turn his life around before it's too late?"