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Chapter 2: The Beginning

That night, when his mother came home from working overtime, she found that Zhang Yu, who had previously looked as pale as a corpse, now appeared to have recovered. He was sitting upright at the table, reading.

"Mom, don't worry. I won't be knocked down that easily."

"If I can’t make it this year, I’ll take the exam again next year. I will become a cultivator."

"I'm going to find a tutoring center tomorrow. I’ll make up for everything I’m missing, one subject at a time."

Early the next morning, Zhang Yu rushed out. When he returned that evening, his face was full of joy.

"Mom, I found a cultivation prep class. The teachers there are all from top high schools. If I study with them, I’m sure I can get into high school."

"Don’t worry about the tuition. They saw that I’ve always been a good student and knew we’re not well-off, so they waived the fee for now. As long as I get into Songyang High next year, I won’t have to pay it back. They said it’ll count as advertisement for them."

"Trust me, it’s a big company. They won’t scam people."

His mother watched Zhang Yu leave before dawn every day to attend the prep class, and return home late at night, still studying until two or three in the morning.

She saw the stream of textbooks he brought home—Grade 11 and Grade 12 materials in Chinese, math, physics, and more. She watched as he resolved to master all the general education courses outside of cultivation itself. Her heart swelled with pride at his determination.

But when she saw the boxes of medication he brought back, a trace of unease rose within her.

Zhang Yu explained with a smile, “Mom, I’ve already studied ten thousand hours less than the top students. If I don’t work harder now, I’ll only fall further behind.”

“These neural stimulants let me sleep only half an hour a day. They boost my learning efficiency, at least enough so that I won’t fall even further behind the city kids.”

“Don’t worry, these didn’t cost me a thing.”

“Our prep class principal thinks highly of me. He gave them to me.”

Hearing that it was a gift from the principal made her even prouder of her son's recognition.

Soon, Zhang Yu started bringing back even more things.

Aside from various textbooks and neural stimulants, there were capsules for hormone regulation, supplements meant for spirit beasts, and bottles of unlabelled medicinal powders.

Zhang Yu had a variety of explanations—sometimes he said he bought them cheap while working part-time, sometimes he said they were gifts from classmates, sometimes rewards from the prep class…

His mother was delighted by his diligence and even more pleased that he was well-liked and performing excellently at the prep class.

She transferred him a thousand yuan and reminded him to thank his classmates and teachers.

But gradually, she noticed something was off with Zhang Yu’s moods. Sometimes he left the house cheerful in the morning but came home silent and went straight to bed. Other times, he’d be happily eating, only to receive a call that left him frowning and unable to take another bite.

She assumed it was the pressure of cultivation weighing on him, stretching his nerves taut.

So she bought him more of his favorite foods, tried to save more for his tuition, hoping to ease his burden.

But then she noticed Zhang Yu had become especially protective of his phone. Not only did he keep it on him constantly, but he also refused to let anyone touch it. Even phone calls were taken in the bathroom with the door locked.

One time, she tried to charge his phone when it had run out of battery, only to be scolded angrily by him.

Understanding how much pressure he was under, she never touched his phone again, afraid she might hinder his cultivation.

Then one day, Zhang Yu asked her for more tuition money. He said a senior who had gotten into a top university was coming to give a lecture, and they needed to pay him.

Then there was a recommendation fee for the high school admissions officer.

Then a spiritual root assessment fee for the hospital.

And then a group purchase of civilian-grade flying swords for children with his classmates.

From a few thousand to over ten thousand… the last time, he asked her to transfer twenty thousand yuan, saying it was to rent a Heavenly Spiritual Root.

But finally, the good news came—Zhang Yu had been accepted into Songyang High.

His mother was overjoyed, proud of her son's hard work and talent. When he spoke of tuition, miscellaneous fees, medication costs and the like, she agreed without hesitation.

But after school started, the amounts he asked for grew larger and larger, and the household finances began to fall apart.

Then, one afternoon, she was shaken by a voice on the other end of a phone call.

“Hello? Is this Zhang Yu’s mother?”

“Did you know your son’s loan has been overdue for thirty days now…”

That night, Zhang Yu came clean about everything.

All those supposedly free, gifted, or sponsored expenses during his studies had actually come from loans he had taken out from various platforms.

“Mom… I’m sorry.”

“But I really want to cultivate.”

“Even if I spend a lifetime unable to pay back my debts, I still want to cultivate…”

After hearing everything, his mother quietly sold everything valuable in their home, then borrowed more money to pay off Zhang Yu’s debts.

She thought her son would now be able to cultivate in peace.

But she soon discovered new overdue loan notices under his name.

Repay… borrow… repay… borrow…

Eventually, she couldn’t hold back and tried to persuade Zhang Yu to cut down on expenses.

“Mom, I can’t stop the meds. If I do, my Dao Heart will regress, and everything will be wasted…”

“I have to rent the Heavenly Spiritual Root. Without it, my mana won’t keep up…”

“I need to top up my VIP card for the prep class, otherwise I won’t understand the cultivation techniques in school…”

Advanced cultivation technology had allowed even those without spiritual roots to set foot on the Immortal Path—but the price was the need for ongoing, costly learning and maintenance to keep going.

In the blink of an eye, three months had passed since school began. Debts had piled so high they could no longer pay rent or utilities… it all felt like a never-ending nightmare. His mother finally couldn’t take it anymore.

So one day after school, when Zhang Yu came home, his mother was nowhere to be found.

He sat in silence for a long time after reading her farewell note.

In the end, he quietly picked up his phone and walked out the door.

Comments 17

  1. Offline
    + 77 -
    It’s like getting smashed in the face with a brick of depression. The slow-motion train wreck of debt, desperation, and dystopian MLM scam energy is genuinely brilliant – in concept. But in execution… Am I reading a Wikipedia plot summary or an actual story?

    Zhang Yu still isn’t a person. Dude’s a walking tofu block, a dead goldfish getting dragged down the plot river. He just hops from hustle to hustle like an NPC whose only trait is that he owes money every ten seconds.

    “Mom, I need money.”
    “Mom, I need more money.”
    “Mom, sorry, drowning in debt, but guess what? I need more money.”
    “Mom, more.”

    That’s it. That’s the entire character. His arc is “grind, hustle, lie, fail, repeat.” Which, fine, that’s the point, but there’s no inner voice. Where’s the ugly, frantic desperation? The self-justifying mental gymnastics? The guilt migraines? Anything?

    All we get is “Zhang Yu explained with a smile…” or “Zhang Yu sat in silence…” Awesome, but what the hell is going on in his head? Does he lie awake hearing debt collectors breathe under the door? Is he chugging cheap stimulants because the only alternative is guilt and terror? Does he daydream about sword-flying over the city, free, while the chains rattle on his ankles?

    Does he ever get pissed at his mom for being poor, then spiral with shame over it? Does he ever laugh at how clownish it is, like, “Haha, can’t pay rent but I can afford a discount Spiritual Heavenly Root!”? Does he even question himself? Is he mad? Is he proud? Or terrified he’s becoming the obedient debt drone the system wants him to be?

    And the pacing – JESUS. It’s like reading a bank statement with sad piano and violin music in the background. All the grim milestones are there, but it’s still all TELL, TELL, TELL, with zero feels. Time passes, debts grow, but we don’t get a single meltdown, fight, or desperate gamble. Not even one scene of Zhang Yu screaming at a loan shark or trying to sell his bones for a Qi booster.

    I thought I was signing for a deranged horror-comedy about a broke kid trading chunks of his soul for a shot at immortality, but I got an Excel Sheet slow bleed instead.
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    1. Offline
      + 100 -
      This guys comments make me feel like I’m reading a synopsis
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  2. Offline
    + 20 -
    Fu#k
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  3. Offline
    + 26 -
    And this shit - top 3 Chinese novel? Wow...
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  4. Offline
    + 80 -
    This is fcked up
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  5. Offline
    + 30 -
    Редкий дурак
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