Mastering the Sword Manual, sweeping across the globe

Chen Ming paid a deposit of three thousand yuan—all the money in his WeChat wallet.

Then he called the family members using the number provided by the elderly man.

The first person to answer the phone was the old man's daughter, who asked warily, "Who are you? What happened to my dad?"

Chen Ming explained it again.

After a few seconds of silence, the other party said, "We'll be there soon."

Twenty minutes later, five or six people arrived in a flurry.

The old man's son, daughter, son-in-law, and two middle-aged men who looked like relatives.

They first went to look at the elderly man lying on the emergency room bed, and then surrounded Chen Ming.

"What happened?" The old man's son, a burly man in his forties with a buzz cut, stared at Chen Ming. "How did my dad fall?"

Chen Ming recounted the events again.

"Did you stop the car and get out to help it up yourself?" the crew-cut man asked, his eyes full of suspicion.

"Yes, I saw the old man fall down, so I stopped the car and got out to help him up."

"What a coincidence?" the old man's daughter interjected. She was a middle-aged woman with curly hair. "How many people pass by on this road every day? Why did you stop here? And take him to the hospital? And even pay for it out of your own pocket?"

Chen Ming's heart skipped a beat.

"Sister, I was just passing by and saw it. I couldn't just ignore it," Chen Ming explained. "There was no one else around at the time. If I hadn't done anything, the old man would have been lying there for who knows how long."

"Did you see who hit my dad?" the crew-cut man asked.

"I didn't see it," Chen Ming shook his head. "When I came over, the old man had already fallen down, and the electric scooter was lying next to him."

"So there's no evidence?" the curly-haired woman's voice shrill. "Who knows if you bumped into it with your car and then stopped because you felt guilty?"

Chen Ming's mind went blank.

"I didn't bump into him!" he raised his voice. "My car was several meters away from where the old man fell! My dashcam was on, you can see it..."

"A dashcam?" the crew-cut man interrupted him. "Can that thing record the side view? Can it prove you didn't scratch it?"

Chen Ming was speechless.

His dashcam is the kind that's mounted on the windshield, and it does indeed only record what's in front of him.

What followed was like a nightmare.

The family members insisted that Chen Ming was the perpetrator.

They rejected the explanation of "kind help," arguing, "Who's that kind these days? Paying out of pocket? They must have something to hide!"

They confiscated copies of Chen Ming's driver's license and vehicle registration certificate—which Chen Ming had voluntarily provided to facilitate hospital registration.

They called the police.

Traffic police arrived, inspected the scene, and took photos, but there were no surveillance cameras at the intersection.

Chen Ming's dashcam footage can only prove that he passed by at the time, but cannot prove that he did not make contact.

The elderly man's electric bike had no obvious collision marks, but his family said, "It was probably just a light scratch."

There were no eyewitnesses.

Everything became a Rashomon-like situation.

The traffic police were also at a loss and suggested that both parties mediate.

However, the prerequisite for mediation is that Chen Ming admits responsibility and seeks compensation through insurance.

Chen Ming refused.

It's not a matter of money—the surgery and follow-up treatment for the elderly will cost around 50,000 to 60,000 yuan, which can be fully covered by insurance.

But he doesn't admit it.

He didn't hit anyone.

He was trying to help out of kindness.

If he admits it, then he will be confirmed as the "perpetrator," the family's accusations will be confirmed, and this absurd logic will be confirmed: if you do a good deed, you should be prepared to be bitten in return.

He denies it.

“You did the right thing,” Chen Ming said, the young man staring intently into Chen Ming’s eyes.

After hearing the whole story, the young man didn't sigh, shake his head, or offer any sympathy like "You're so pitiful."

He raised his hand and took the playing card that Chen Ming was holding up.

"I support you."

50 Legal Aid

The Department of Orthopedics and Traumatology is located on the third floor of the inpatient building of the Guangming No. 1 Traditional Chinese Medicine Hospital.

Ward 312 is a two-person room. The patient near the door has just been discharged, while the bed further inside is covered by a light blue curtain.

The smell of disinfectant mixed with the stuffy, stagnant air from a lack of ventilation. In the morning, the sunlight slanted in, and you could see dust particles slowly drifting in the beams of light.

Li Fuquan lay on the hospital bed with his left calf in a cast and suspended by a traction belt.

His face was ashen, and his eyes were fixed on something on the ceiling, unfocused.

Four people were gathered around the bed.

Li Jianguo, the son, sat on a stool, peeling an apple, his movements a little slow.

The daughter, Li Guifang, stood by the bed, holding a thermos in her hand.

Son-in-law Wang Bin leaned against the window looking at his phone.

Another colleague of Li Jianguo, Zhao Dahai, was leaning against the iron frame at the foot of the bed.

"Dad, would you like some soup?" Li Guifang scooped up a spoonful of chicken soup.

Li Fuquan shook his head and remained silent.

Li Guifang put down her spoon and looked at Li Jianguo: "Brother, the Transportation Department... still no word?"

Li Jianguo placed the peeled apple on a plate and wiped his hands.

"They called again this morning, saying they'd still try to mediate... but that kid insists he didn't hit anything and won't admit it."

“He’s certainly tough,” Li Guifang said, pursing her lips. “But who benefits from dragging this out? Dad’s lying here, and money just keeps flowing away like water.”

“I know,” Li Jianguo frowned, “but he won’t admit it, and the Transportation Department can’t hold him responsible. There were no surveillance cameras at the scene, and his dashcam couldn’t capture the side view. Dad himself also…”

He glanced at the old man on the bed, but didn't finish his sentence.

Li Fuquan's eyelids twitched, but he didn't say anything.

He actually remembered some fragments of what happened that afternoon—he lost his grip on the electric scooter and it tipped over; there were no cars around when he fell.

The young man stopped later.

But he said these fragments were incoherent, and more importantly, what good would it do to say them?

“If you ask me,” Wang Bin, standing by the window, pushed up his glasses and put down his phone, “the key to this matter is not whether he hit the other person or not.”

Several people were looking at him.

"The key point is whether he caused the accident or not, which is unclear at the moment. But it is a fact that he took the person to the hospital, he took them to the hospital, and he paid for everything."

“But we know the truth in our hearts,” Li Jianguo said in a lower voice, “that day, Dad…”

“Brother!” Li Guifang interrupted him, giving him a wink. “What’s the use of saying all this now? The fact is, Dad is lying here, and we need money for medical expenses and follow-up care. Since he stopped the car and took charge of things back then, he can’t escape responsibility for this.”

"Besides, it's not like he has to pay out of his own pocket. If we go through insurance, the insurance company will pay. If he takes responsibility, the insurance company will pay, Dad's medical expenses will be covered, and he won't have to be bothered by us and the traffic department every day. Isn't that a win-win situation? Anyone with common sense can do the math."

Li Jianguo fell silent.

What his sister said was actually what he had always been thinking.

They didn't really want to extort money; they just thought that since the insurance company was willing to pay, it would be easier for everyone if the other party accepted it.

But that stubborn kid insisted on arguing about right and wrong.

“Guifang is right,” Wang Bin nodded. “The problem now is that he’s not cooperating…”

Zhao Dahai, who had been silent until now, chuckled. He peeled an orange and slowly said, "Jianguo, you guys are still too honest."

Several people looked at him.

"We can't just focus on the immediate medical expenses," Zhao Dahai said, popping a segment of orange into his mouth. "The old man's injury is the immediate problem. What about the future?"

Zhao Dahai leaned forward: "Even if your leg is broken and healed, won't it hurt in the rain? You're getting old, and this kind of suffering will ruin your health. If you have a headache, fever, backache, or other ailments in the future, how will you know it's not a lingering problem from this?"

Li Guifang's eyes widened slightly.

“If he admits it now and goes through insurance, the tens of thousands of yuan in front of him is one thing,” Zhao Dahai continued. “The other thing is… once he signs the letter of admission of responsibility, it will be a completely different story. It’s like admitting in black and white that he caused the old man’s injury. With this, if the old man has any health problems in the future—you’ll have a reason to contact him. This is called… locking down the source of responsibility.”

"But...isn't this obvious..."

"What's so obvious?" Zhao Dahai interrupted. "Jianguo, in this world, if you don't think about yourself, who will? The old man is getting on in years, can he withstand any more trouble? Is your family wealthy enough? If you really need money in the future, who will you turn to?"

He glanced at Li Fuquan on the hospital bed; the old man had his eyes closed, as if he were asleep.

“Letting him admit it now is giving him a chance.” Zhao Dahai lowered his voice even further. “The insurance pays out for the immediate benefit, your family gets the good deal, and he gets rid of a problem. As for the future… that’s just in case. If the old man is in good health, that’s a blessing; if he’s not, at least you’ll have some proof so you won’t be caught off guard.”

The ward was quiet for a few seconds.

Li Guifang spoke first, her voice a little dry: "What Brother Zhao means is... as long as he acknowledges it, Dad can come to him for any problems in the future?"

“At least there’s an explanation.” Zhao Dahai threw the orange peel into the trash can. “If he doesn’t admit it now, you won’t get anything. If he does admit it, you’ll get the money now and have something to look forward to in the future. No matter how you look at it, you’re not at a loss.”

Li Jianguo looked at his father on the bed; the old man's thin face looked even more haggard against the white pillow.

He recalled the young man named Chen Ming, who stood in the traffic department with his neck stiff and said, "I didn't hit anything."

Can kindness... feed us? Can it pay for medical expenses? Can it guarantee the old man a peaceful and stable life afterward?

“Da Hai is right.” Li Jianguo finally spoke, his voice a little hoarse. “We need to think about Dad’s future.”

He turned to Li Guifang and Wang Bin: "Go to the Transportation Department again tomorrow. Be firm and make him admit it. Tell him that if he admits it, the insurance will pay out, and that's the end of it. If he doesn't admit it, we'll sue him and pay for as long as it takes. If he can afford to drag it out, so can we—after all, Dad is lying here, and the facts are there."

Li Guifang nodded: "Yes, that's how it should be. We're not trying to extort him, we're just stating the facts. Dad had the accident next to his car, and since he took responsibility, we have to see it through to the end."

Wang Bin nodded slightly, which was taken as agreement.

Zhao Dahai smiled with satisfaction, picked up another orange, and said while peeling it, "Pressuring the traffic police alone might not be enough. Sometimes, you have to teach this kind of person a lesson."

Several people looked at him.

“He’s denying it, isn’t he? He thinks he’s been wronged, doesn’t he?” Zhao Dahai peeled an orange segment. “Then let everyone around him know about this. Doesn’t he have a job? Find out where he works. Find a few relatives who are good at talking, no need to argue or make a scene, just go to his workplace and tell him how he ‘hit someone and denies it,’ and how miserable the old man was. No need to exaggerate, just tell the truth—after all, the old man is lying here.”

Li Jianguo frowned: "Go to the workplace and cause trouble? This..."

"What's wrong with that?" Zhao Dahai glanced at him. "We're going to reason things out, not to fight. Let the leaders and colleagues judge for themselves whether he can concentrate on his work under such pressure. People care about their reputation, just like trees care about their bark. If he doesn't care about his reputation, his company certainly does, right?"

Li Guifang's eyes darted around before she continued, "I heard... his wife works at some pharmacy? I don't know exactly where, but if we really wanted to find out, we should be able to."

"That would be even better." Zhao Dahai popped an orange into his mouth and chewed it a couple of times. "Pharmacyes are all about reputation. If people find out that someone in their family hit an elderly person and then refused to take responsibility... who would dare to buy medicine from them? Even the store manager would have to think twice."

After thinking for a moment, Zhao Dahai added, "Also, these days, those online platforms, short videos and such. They can film the old man lying in his hospital bed, without showing his full face, just blurring it out. Add some music, and without even saying he caused the accident, they can just recount what happened, and netizens will naturally side with the weaker party. When the pressure from public opinion comes, can he withstand it?"

Wang Bin adjusted his glasses and said thoughtfully, "Online public opinion is a double-edged sword. However... if handled properly, simply stating the facts and attracting public attention is not excessive. After all, we are also desperate and want to seek justice."

“That’s exactly the point!” Zhao Dahai slapped his thigh. “We were forced into this situation. We tried to reason with him, but he wouldn’t listen. So we had no choice but to let everyone come and see for themselves and judge the situation. We won’t curse or hit anyone; we just want to make things clear. If he’s a reasonable person, he’ll know what to do—acknowledge responsibility, get insurance compensation, and everyone can have peace. If he still insists on holding a grudge, then he’ll have to bear the consequences himself.”

Li Jianguo sighed.

“Dad is lying here like this,” Li Guifang said, looking at the old man on the hospital bed, her voice lowered, “We, as his children, can’t just stand by and watch. We have to try everything we can.”

Li Jianguo took a deep breath and finally nodded: "Okay. Let's follow the proper procedures first, and then put some pressure on the Transportation Department. If he still doesn't budge... those methods are worth considering."

“That’s right.” Zhao Dahai finished the last segment of orange and wiped his hands. “Remember, we’re in the right. The old man is really injured, and the medical expenses are real. It’s only right that we demand he take responsibility.”

The voice could be clearly heard through the crack in the slightly ajar hospital room door.

In the corridor outside the door, Chen Ming stood frozen in place, his face flushed.

Chen Ming was also carrying a bag of fruit he had bought on the way, at a small supermarket near the hospital.

The plastic bag was digging into my fingers, leaving deep marks.

Those words were like icicles, each one piercing my ears.

It's not that I didn't know the other party might think that way, but hearing it with my own ears, hearing those casual remarks about "making a scene at their workplace," "making a scene at the pharmacy," and "filming it and posting it online," especially Li Guifang's statement that "his wife works at a pharmacy"...