An Old Sweet Story About Rebirth

Two days later.
It was a Saturday.
The factory was closed on weekends, but Tyler woke even earlier than usual.
Every Saturday, he would take a three-hour bus ride to a shopping mall in Greenville to hand out flyers.
Today was no different.

He left the house just after dawn, carrying his lunchbox, a bottle of water—and something else he’d hidden carefully: Emily’s medical records.
He was planning to stop by the hospital before work to get her some more medication.
But the moment he stepped outside the apartment building, he saw it—
A sleek black car parked at the end of the street. Beside it stood a sharply dressed middle-aged man.

Tyler glanced at him and froze.
That man had been there the other night. With him. The one in the black shirt.
What was he doing here? Was it just a coincidence?

Before Tyler could decide whether to ignore it or run, the man strode toward him with quiet purpose, gave a slight bow, and said with a polite smile,
“Mr. Tyler, I work for Mr. Shane Xie. You may call me Uncle Liu.”
Tyler: “…?”
Shane Xie? Was that the guy in the black shirt?

Uncle Liu’s tone remained courteous. “Mr. Xie would like to speak with you. It won’t take long.”
Tyler shook his head. “I have work.”
“He understands,” Uncle Liu said. “He’s willing to compensate you—twice your daily wage.”

That only made Tyler more suspicious. Why would anyone offer double pay for a conversation?
He stepped sideways to leave, but Uncle Liu added, almost offhandedly:
“Mr. Xie knows the best cardiothoracic surgeon in Greenville.”
Tyler stopped dead.

Cardiothoracic? As in… heart surgery?
Why would he bring that up? What did he know?
Tyler’s heart thudded against his ribs. His grip on the lunchbox tightened, and his feet—despite every warning in his mind—started to carry him in the direction of the school.
The man said “cardiothoracic.”
Just that one word was enough to make Tyler go.

Just to see. Just to find out.
 
****

Milltown High sat in the southeast corner of town.
A small, half-paved square stretched out just beyond its gates, shaded by a few scattered trees. Locals called it "the plaza," though it was barely more than a patch of grass with some worn stone tables.
When Tyler was still in junior high, and his mom happened to get off work early, she would bring Emily here to wait for him.
After school, Tyler would run out with his backpack bouncing and find them—his mother holding his left hand, his sister in her right—and they’d all walk home together.
Later, after everything changed, Tyler still walked out of school quickly.
But he never looked toward the plaza again.

Now, from a distance, he saw him.
Shane Xie was sitting beneath the oldest tree, wearing a crisp white shirt, dappled with morning shadows.
Tyler hadn’t gotten a good look at his face the other night.
But now, in the clear light of morning, he could see—he was in his twenties, lean, sharply defined features—

Just as Tyler was taking that in, Shane picked up a pair of sunglasses from the table and slid them over his eyes.
All at once, his expression vanished behind mirrored lenses.
Only the sharp lines of his jaw and the cut of his cheekbones remained.
Sunglasses? In this barely-there sunlight?

Rich people must be more delicate, Tyler thought to himself, unimpressed.
As Tyler approached, Shane didn’t rise. He just tilted his chin and said,
“Sit.”
Tyler didn’t.

He stayed standing, watching him carefully, rehearsing how to ask what he needed to know.
But when he opened his mouth, the question came out plain and blunt:
“You said you know a cardiothoracic surgeon?”
Shane didn’t flinch. ✪ Nоvеlіgһt ✪ (Official version) “Yes.”

Tyler hesitated, then asked, “Why are you telling me this?”
“Because,” Shane said, “I have a proposal. And that’s part of the deal.”
Tyler’s mouth tightened. “I don’t think I have anything worth trading.”

Shane leaned back slightly. “On the contrary, Mr. Tyler. You do.”
Something about his tone set off every alarm in Tyler’s head.
Suddenly, the kinds of stories he'd overheard during night shifts at the factory came rushing in—
Drug running.
Contract killings.
Taking the fall for someone else’s crime.
His face went pale. He turned on his heel to leave.

Then Shane spoke again.
“Emily’s condition—the sooner the surgery, the better, right?”
Tyler froze.

He knows.
Nobody knew. Not even Emily herself.
How could this man—how could he possibly—
Tyler whipped around, eyes filled with raw suspicion.

But Shane didn’t react. He simply gestured again, calmly.
“Sit.”
Reluctantly, stiffly, Tyler lowered himself onto the stone bench.
Shane’s voice was even, calm. “What did you think I wanted to trade for?”

Tyler clenched his jaw. “If it’s anything illegal, I’m not doing it.”
Shane held his gaze for three long seconds.
Then, with the faintest smile, he reached to the side and slid something across the table.

Tyler looked down.
A book.
Not money. Not a contract. Not a weapon.
It was… a copy of the Criminal Code.

Tyler blinked. “…Excuse me?”
Was this some kind of billionaire’s version of a user manual? A how-to guide for whatever madness he had planned?
Shane Xie tapped a finger lightly on the book.

“I promise,” he said calmly, “what I’m asking isn’t in this book.”
“You help me with this one thing, and I’ll have Emily’s surgery arranged immediately—at Friendship Hospital, in their VIP ward.”
“You won’t have to pay a cent.”

Friendship Hospital?
Tyler’s breath caught in his throat.
That was the hospital. The most advanced, most expensive facility in all of Greenville. The kind of place you only saw in headlines or heard about on the radio.

His heart was hammering, far louder than it had during any college entrance exam.
This man’s offer was impossibly tempting.
But Tyler wasn’t stupid.

He knew better than to believe in handouts.
No one came offering salvation without asking for something first.
His hands clenched tightly together beneath the table. Outwardly, he forced himself to stay composed.
“What exactly do you want me to do, Mr. Xie?” he asked quietly.

Shane smoothed the cuffs of his shirt, not a hint of urgency in his voice.
“It’s very simple.”
“I need you,” he said, “to pretend to be my spouse.”

The words were delivered as casually as a weather report.
But in Tyler’s ears, they exploded like a summer thunderclap.
What the hell?!

His breath stuttered, chest rising and falling in sharp bursts.
What kind of lunatic—
That was it. He wasn’t sticking around to listen to any more of this nonsense. He didn’t care about the money or compensation or connections—none of it was worth this.
He made to stand—

But Shane pushed another sheet of paper across the table.
“I ran some numbers for you,” he said lightly.
“At your current earning capacity, factoring in maximum work hours and your bare minimum cost of living—”

“It’ll take you 320 days to save enough for the surgery.”
“Are you really willing to let Emily wait that long? Risking her life every single day?”
Tyler stared down at the paper.

It was meticulously detailed—types of jobs available to someone with a high school diploma, hourly wages, average expenses at Greenville Academy, even dormitory costs.
It was all there, black and white, undeniable.
His legs felt leaden. It took effort just to stand.

He glanced again at the crimson book on the table—The Criminal Code—and forced the words out through clenched teeth.
“Selling yourself—isn’t that illegal?”
He didn’t even know how one man could sell himself to another. But wasn’t that exactly what this was?

This polished, perfectly dressed man—just another predator in a better suit.
Shane finally looked up, his expression unreadable behind his sunglasses.
“You misunderstand, Mr. Tyler.”

“I wouldn’t go to all this trouble just for that.”
Tyler: “…?”
Shane adjusted his sunglasses.

“Pay attention to my words,” he said, voice crisp.
“I said pretend.”
“For certain reasons,” Shane said evenly, “I need to be legally married before a specific deadline.”
“What matters is the status. The legal recognition of marriage.”

“I have no intention of engaging in any physical or… personal relationship with this ‘spouse.’”
“Once the deadline passes, the marriage ends.”
Tyler sat still for a long time, letting the silence settle over him. Slowly, the color began to return to his face.

His voice was barely above a whisper. “You mean… a fake marriage?”
Shane nodded. “Exactly.”
Tyler had heard of that kind of thing.
People marrying for green cards, visas, residency rights—getting hitched just long enough to gain some advantage, then walking away when the paperwork was done.

It wasn’t something to brag about.
But it wasn’t degrading, either.
And if the other person could give him exactly what he needed most…
He sat back down.

Looking straight at Shane, Tyler asked,
“And what does this married status give you?”
Tyler had spent enough time fending for himself and watching the world from the sidelines to learn a thing or two.
He could tell what people wanted by how they looked at him.
Men like Mr. Ray—greasy eyes and crawling intentions.
People at school—the vendors, the teachers—had stares full of thinly-veiled contempt.

But now, facing Shane across the stone table, Tyler couldn’t read anything.
The sunglasses were too dark.
Shane’s answer came simply:
“Status.”

Tyler blinked. “…Status?”
What did that have to do with a fake marriage?
And more importantly, whatever game this man was playing—couldn’t he find someone better for it?
Someone prettier, older, more willing?

Why him?
Tyler was still trying to form the next question when Shane casually glanced at his watch.
“I know you have a lot of doubts,” he said, “so to show I’m serious…”

He turned toward the edge of the plaza. “Uncle Liu is contacting the hospital as we speak.”
True to his word, Uncle Liu approached.
“Mr. Tyler,” he said respectfully, “may I see Emily’s medical records?”
Tyler hesitated, then handed them over.

He watched as Uncle Liu stepped aside to make the call, disappearing behind the tree with phone to ear, already speaking in rapid, quiet tones.
Tyler sat frozen, dazed. He couldn’t quite process what was happening.
By the time Uncle Liu returned and said, “They can admit her tomorrow. Surgery the day after,” Tyler’s palms were drenched in sweat. His mouth opened. Closed. Then opened again.

But no words came out.
It was Shane who broke the silence, his voice smooth and calm.
“Now, Tyler,” he said, “I need to see your sincerity.”

Tyler looked up, startled. “...What?”
What else could he possibly want?
For one crazy second, Tyler thought—if this man asked for a kidney, he might actually say yes.

But Shane just stood and pointed toward the school building nearby.
“Today’s the last day, isn’t it?”
It took Tyler a moment to realize what he meant.
The final day to submit college applications.

He nodded.
Shane stood tall, framed by tree branches and morning sun, his expression unreadable.
“Then show me your sincerity,” he said.

“Go inside. And choose your future.”
Tyler: “...?!”