136: Chapter 136 This is the hero's last concern for humanity.

Su Yun opened his eyes again, and a tear slid down the corner of his eye.

"Ma'am."

"I'm sorry."

"Comrade Li Xiangyang's identity was exposed during that mission fifteen years ago..."

"To protect his comrades and prevent intelligence from being leaked, after being tortured by drug traffickers for three days and three nights..."

"He made the ultimate sacrifice."

Su Yun said these last four words with every ounce of strength in his body.

Plop.

The thick stack of remittance slips in Wu Xiulan's hands seemed to lose gravity, scattering all over the floor.

The colorful receipts covered the dim, dirty concrete floor.

The old woman did not cry.

She didn't even change her expression.

She just stood there quietly, like a stone statue weathered for a thousand years.

All expression on her wrinkled face froze in that instant, as if time had stopped completely at that moment.

This silent grief was more heartbreaking and more despairing than wailing.

In the livestream, countless people watched this scene, their vision blurred by tears.

They finally understood.

This was no handout from an unfilial son.

This was the hero's final attachment to the world.

This was the heaviest family letter ever written, spanning fifteen years, written in blood and life.

The air in the livestream seemed to have frozen; millions of people stared at the screen, forgetting even to breathe.

Wu Xiulan's body swayed, as if her soul had been drained away.

But the next second, she suddenly crouched on the ground like a madwoman, her hands, resembling withered tree bark, clawing at the floor to pick up the scattered remittance slips one by one.

She clutched the slips tightly to her chest, as if protecting her own life.

"You're lying! You're cheating me!"

The old woman raised her head, her eyes bloodshot, a roar like a broken bellows erupting from her throat.

"My son isn't dead! I don't believe it!"

She tremblingly held up a remittance slip and shoved it in front of the camera, her fingers shaking.

"Look! You all look! This is the slip from last month!"

"It says the sender is Xiangyang right here! That's my son's name!"

"And this handwriting! Although it's a bit crooked, he wrote like this when he was a kid! I recognize it! Even if he turned to ashes, I'd still recognize it!"

The old woman grew more agitated as she spoke, tears streaming down her deeply lined face, soaking the slip in her hand.

"If he's dead, who sent this money? Can ghosts send money?"

"Master Su, you're accurate about other things, but you're definitely wrong about this! My son must still be alive. Even if he's disabled or crippled, as long as he can send money, he must still have a breath left in him!"

The audience in the livestream was emotionally shattered by the old woman's stubbornness.

The comments scrolled wildly again, this time not with mockery, but with a questioning that bordered on pleading.

"Yeah, Master Su, could you really be mistaken? Five hundred yuan every month, without fail for fifteen years—how could a dead person do that?"

"I also think there's an issue. If a comrade sent it, why not just say it's a pension? Why use Xiangyang's name?"

"Handwriting doesn't lie, right? The old lady is his own mother; could she mistake her own son's handwriting?"

"Master Su, please calculate it again! I beg you! Even if you find out he's in prison, that's fine, just don't say he's dead!"

"These slips are ironclad proof! He must still be alive!"

Su Yun looked at the nearly hysterical old woman on the screen, his heart feeling as if it were stuffed with wet cotton, painfully clogged.

He knew the truth was cruel.

But if this layer of window paper wasn't pierced, the person who had carried a heavy burden in the dark for fifteen years would never see the light of day.

The person who was truly alive was suffering even more than if he were dead.

Su Yun didn't speak, just quietly watching Wu Xiulan finish picking up the slips from the floor.

When the old woman's emotions calmed down a little, and she was still muttering "Xiangyang isn't dead" with her head bowed, Su Yun finally spoke.

His voice was not loud, but very heavy.

"Ma'am, those words weren't written by Li Xiangyang."

"The person who wrote them is named Chen Jin."

Wu Xiulan froze, her movements stopping.

"Chen... Jin? Who is that?"

Su Yun tapped his fingers lightly on the desktop, his tone becoming somewhat urgent.

"He is an orphan."

"Fifteen years ago, he was only twelve."

"But he wasn't an ordinary child; he was a dog raised by that drug trafficking syndicate."

"Those drug traffickers thought adults were too conspicuous, so they specifically kidnapped homeless children, broke their bones, stuffed drugs into their plaster casts, or made them swallow drugs to transport them."

"Chen Jin was one of them."

The comments in the livestream stopped abruptly.

Everyone felt their scalps tingle.

Twelve years old? A drug transport tool?

Is this something a human would do?

Su Yun continued, speaking quickly, as if racing against time.

"When Li Xiangyang went undercover, he happened to be in charge of guarding this group of children."

"He couldn't save them directly; that would expose him, and the mission would be ruined."

"He could only sneak half a steamed bun to Chen Jin in the middle of the night when no one was watching, or when the drug traffickers were beating people, pretend to miss on purpose to help the child block a couple of blows."

"Chen Jin wasn't stupid; he knew this newcomer, Brother Xiangyang, was different from the others."

"In that living hell, Li Xiangyang was the only light he had ever seen."

Wu Xiulan listened, stunned, the remittance slips in her hand slowly drooping.

Su Yun took a deep breath; the words that followed were dripping with the scent of blood.

"On that night fifteen years ago, the police prepared to close the net."

"But intelligence was leaked; the drug traffickers moved early and intended to kill everyone to cover their tracks."

"Li Xiangyang's identity was exposed, and he was surrounded by seven or eight drug traffickers wielding machetes on the edge of a cliff."

"He could have jumped into the water to escape."

"But he was still holding Chen Jin's hand."

"At that time, Chen Jin's leg was broken, and he couldn't run at all."

"If Li Xiangyang took him along, both of them would die."

Su Yun closed his eyes for a moment; the scene in his mind was too tragic.

A blood-covered Li Xiangyang looked at the rushing drug traffickers, then turned back and smiled at Chen Jin.

That smile was just as bright as the one in the photo.

"He made a decision."

"He put the only life jacket he had on Chen Jin, then pushed him with all his might into the deep pool at the bottom of the cliff."

"The last thing he shouted to Chen Jin was: 'Live on! See my mother for me!'"

"Then, he turned and charged at the group of drug traffickers, blocking the gun muzzles with his chest, buying time for Chen Jin to fall into the water."

In the livestream, many grown men holding their phones were shedding tears uncontrollably.

This was the truth.

This was the truth behind the disappearance of the "unfilial son."

Su Yun looked at the camera, his eyes sharp.

"Chen Jin was lucky; he drifted downstream with the water and was saved by an old man who collected scraps."

"He didn't dare to call the police, nor did he dare to look for the police, because he was afraid."

"He was afraid that those drug traffickers were still looking for him, and he was afraid of implicating Li Xiangyang's family."

"He hid in the slums of Jiangcheng, making a living by collecting scraps, carrying cement, and cleaning sewers."

"He never went to school and was illiterate."

"But he remembered that Li Xiangyang had taught him to write that name."

"Xiangyang."

"He practiced these two characters for fifteen whole years."

"Five hundred yuan every month."

"That was what he squeezed from his own meager living, what he earned by picking up tens of thousands of bottles."

"He didn't dare to send more, fearing it would attract attention, and also fearing that you would be suspicious."

"He didn't dare to show his face, nor did he even dare to call you."

"Because he felt that it was his own worthless life that had traded for Li Xiangyang's life."

"He lived his life as Li Xiangyang's shadow."

"Ma'am, every one of those remittance slips in your hand is Chen Jin fulfilling filial piety on behalf of your son."

"The writing is crooked because Chen Jin's hand was crushed by drug traffickers when he was transporting drugs, and his fingers won't straighten."