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Han Building, President's Office.
Han Jingchen had just finished a meeting and was rubbing his temples with his fingers.
Assistant Jiang Yuan knocked on the door and came in, holding a package in his hand. "Boss Han, there's an expedited shipment for you. The sender is anonymous."
Han Jingchen looked up and glanced at the package.
The box is not big, with a plain white wrapping paper on the outside. There is no signature, only a line of printed delivery information.
I took the package and my fingertips touched the cold paper. For some reason, I suddenly felt a strange feeling in my heart.
After unpacking, a rusty iron box was revealed.
The box is very old, and the paint on the edge has become mottled and peeled, revealing the dark red base color.
There are several obvious scratches on the lid, as if it has been rubbed repeatedly countless times.
He was certain he had never seen the box before.
The moment the lid of the box was opened, a stack of crumpled coins fell out.
The five-yuan and ten-yuan bills were crumpled to pieces, and a few coins rolled onto the desk.
Han Jingchen's breathing stagnated, and he subconsciously reached out to press the still spinning five-cent coin.
He began to count as if possessed by a ghost.
Three for one hundred, five for fifty, fifteen for ten...
Finally, adding the scattered coins, the total was exactly 865 yuan, neither more nor less.
This number was like a key, suddenly opening a past event deep in his memory.
Eight years ago, H City, Country Y.
Han Jingchen had just walked out of the bookstore when he saw Zhang Ming snatching a girl's handbag.
He chased him out almost instinctively and pinned him against the wall at the second corner.
"Jingchen," Zhang Ming's voice trembled, "I have no other choice. My mother's chemotherapy fee..."
Han Jingchen snatched the handbag and unzipped it.
He quickly counted the cash in his bag and found 865 yuan.
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