I Saved My Parents with Lottery Winnings
The corridor's tiles gleamed with a cold white light, sapping all warmth from the propaganda posters on the walls.
Mother clenched two pathology reports tightly in her hands, her knuckles whitening from the strain, her voice trembling, out of tune: "Child's father, this illness... what are we to do?"
Father lowered his head, his shoulders sagging slightly. His Adam's apple moved for a long moment before he forced out from his tight throat: "What else can we do? We take it slow, treat it slowly."
That sentence was like a rusty key, heavy with years of dullness, suddenly prying open the floodgates of my memories.
Scenes from my previous life surged forth—the pale face of my father upon his leukemia diagnosis, my mother's silent tears after learning she had uremia, the pages of dense medical records, and the astronomical treatment fees crushing us like unbearable numbers.
Even clearer is the memory of clutching the crumpled medical records, standing before the mansion of the wealthy man Mike Young, and knocking on that heavy wooden door. The dull creak of the door hinge struck my heart like a blow, each sound dripping with humiliation.
My name is Willow Lynn. I am twenty-two years old and a recent graduate of an ordinary city university. I should be wearing my graduation gown and taking photos three months from now, then finding a nine-to-five job to help make our family's life a little better.
But now, fate feels like a merciless hand, forcibly pushing our family into an endless abyss.
"Mom," I stepped forward and took my mother's icy hands in mine. I felt the uncontrollable trembling beneath my fingertips, and that tremor spread from my fingers deep into my heart. "Don't panic. We will find a way with the money. There is always hope."
No sooner had the words fallen than a sharp, cheerful exclamation suddenly came from behind, the voice piercing like a needle, stinging the eardrums: "Dad, Mom! You really are ill! That's wonderful!"
I whipped around and saw my sister, Whitney Lynn, holding the pathology report she had just snatched from Mother's hand; her eyes shone brightly, devoid of any worry, filled only with an excitement she could not conceal.
Everyone walking in the corridor stopped in their tracks, all turning their eyes toward us at once, filled with astonishment and curiosity; those gazes pricked into us like tiny needles.
Mother's face flushed red instantly, then quickly turned pale. Her voice was sharp, edged with disbelief: "Whitney, what nonsense are you talking about? What child would ever hope for their parents to fall ill?"
Only then did Whitney realize her mistake. She quickly wiped the smile from her face and put on a coquettish expression instead. Linking arms with her mother, she gently shook her and said, "Mom, that's not what I meant! I just think that if someone falls ill, we can find a way to raise money for treatment! Don't worry, this time I'll make sure both of you stay healthy and strong!"
She spoke, then turned to look at me, a barely perceptible cruelty flickering in her eyes—a gaze like a poisoned needle silently piercing through me: "Sister, this time don't you dare compete with me for the credit."
I will find a way to cure Mom and Dad's illness.
My heart suddenly sank, as if struck by a massive stone.
In my previous life, Whitney Lynn was exactly like this, always believing that being the "Canary" meant living a spoiled and privileged life, never once seeing the grief and humiliation I endured behind the scenes.
She used the money I painstakingly collected for Mom and Dad's treatment to buy luxury handbags and the newest phones, drove away the expert doctors I had arranged through connections, and in the end blamed Mom and Dad's deaths on me, accusing me of not doing my best.
Even when I had completely lost faith in her and sought to leave Mike Young, she herself shoved me into a bathtub filled with chemical corpse fluid, watching me writhe in agony, her eyes shining with cruel satisfaction.
Now, in this very form, it is evident that she has also been reborn.
Indeed, the next moment Whitney Lynn came over, clasping my hand with an overly sweet voice, though beneath that sweetness lay cunning: "Sister, trust me—I have a way to get the money."
Until I manage to gather the money, you must absolutely not try to earn it yourself, so you won't have to endure hardship.
Her words seemed caring, but in truth, she feared I would rush to find Mike Young before her.
In my previous life, it was because I was utterly desperate and had no other choice that I gritted my teeth and became Mike Young's canary — living every day under his mood swings, enduring his bad temper and disrespectful behavior.
But in Whitney Lynn's eyes, I was the one who took a tremendous advantage — getting money without working, living a life of ease and comfort.
Before I could speak, Father suddenly pulled me behind him, his brows tightly furrowed, the wrinkles on his forehead all knotted together: "Whitney, do whatever you want, just don't pay attention to your sister."
You don't need to concern yourself with her affairs.
Mother also nodded, her eyes full of worry and a lingering fear: "Yes, Willow, you must not do anything foolish."
Even if we have to sell everything in the house, down to the last pot and iron, we will never have to beg anyone.
I was stunned, unable to stop my lips from trembling, and my eyes immediately filled with tears.
After my parents died in my previous life, I saw them countless times in my dreams, always holding my hand and earnestly telling me not to go to Mike Young anymore, urging me to live my life properly.
But now, they have also been reborn. They still remember the matters of the previous life, still remember the suffering I endured.
"Dad, Mom, you..." I opened my mouth, but my voice choked, tears falling uncontrollably.
"Foolish child," Mother reached out and gently touched my face. The warmth of her fingertips passed through my skin and into my heart, making my nose sting and my tears fall even harder. "How could our whole family let you bear this burden alone?"
We all remember the things from our previous life.
In this life, no matter what, I will never let you suffer injustice again.
Whitney Lynn was stunned by her parents' sudden change in attitude. She stood frozen, her smile stiffening, likely thinking her parents were only cold because they were ill and in a bad mood.
She curled her lips, a trace of dissatisfaction in her voice: "Fine, then I'll figure it out on my own."
Just wait, I'll bring back the money soon.
After saying that, she turned and walked away. Her high heels clicked sharply against the smooth tile floor, the crisp and piercing sound trailing behind her like a declaration of her determination.
Watching her retreating figure, I tightly grasped my mother's hand; the warmth in my palm gave me strength: "Mom, don't worry. This time, I won't let her destroy our family again."
On the way home, the sunset stained the sky a deep orange, and the trees lining the road cast long shadows.
I told my parents every detail of what Whitney Lynn had done in my previous life—from stealing my life-saving money, to driving away the doctor, and ultimately causing my death.
My father grew increasingly furious; his fists clenched so tightly they cracked, his knuckles turning white. Several times he wanted to turn and confront Whitney Lynn, but my mother stopped him each time.
"Forget it," my mother's voice was weary yet resolute. "In this life, let us pretend we never had this daughter."
Focus on proper treatment and living well; that is better than anything else.
Arguing with her will only bring us more anger.
Father halted, turned around, and embraced my mother and me; his shoulders trembled slightly, and I could feel his restrained anger and heartbreak.
The setting sun stretched our three shadows long and far, as if drawing a heavy period over the sufferings of our previous life.
Sure enough, within two days, a neighbor told me they had seen Whitney Lynn dressed flamboyantly—wearing a tight-fitting dress and heavy makeup—loitering outside the cafe beneath Mike Young's company building. She kept adjusting her hair and touching up her makeup on her phone, clearly waiting for someone.
I knew in my heart she was waiting for Mike Young.
In her previous life, this was exactly how she 'accidentally met' Mike Young—deliberately pretending not to notice him when he got out of his car, then falling into his arms, using that innocent and pure facade to stir his interest, and naturally became his lover.
I did not stop her.
Some paths must be walked alone to truly understand how arduous they are, to realize how much grievance and danger lie behind those seemingly glamorous facades.
I cannot be like in my previous life, always trying to protect her, only to be hurt by her in return.
On the weekend, Whitney Lynn's close friend Fiona Scott suddenly came to me. Her eyes were red, her face still streaked with tears, and she looked deeply anxious: "Willow, you must go and persuade Whitney!"
She was willing to undergo breast augmentation and cosmetic surgery just to please that Mike Young!
I said a few words to her, telling her not to degrade herself like this, but she cut ties with me, accusing me of being jealous that she could live a good life!
My heart tightened. In her previous life, Whitney Lynn truly underwent numerous surgeries on her face and body to please Mike Young. After each operation, she would cry from the pain, yet she remained unsatisfied, always feeling she wasn't beautiful enough to keep Mike Young's heart.
Before I could say anything, my phone vibrated. It was a message from Fiona Scott, saying that Whitney Lynn, unable to bear the injustice, had hired someone to smash her small flower shop, and even threatened, "Whoever stands in the way of me living well is my enemy," warning her to stay out of her affairs from now on.
As I looked at the words on the phone screen, a cold shiver ran through my heart.
Whitney Lynn was still the same as always; for her own gain, she would stop at nothing—even mercilessly hurting a once closest friend.
But now, I no longer have the strength to care about her.
The most urgent matter is to raise enough money for my parents' medical treatment.
I called my relatives one by one, explaining the family's situation, pleading and reasoning with them, and finally managed to borrow some money.
Then, after discussing with my parents, we sold their house back home at a low price. Though that house held many memories, none of them mattered compared to my parents' lives now.
After raising enough money for their initial treatment, I suddenly recalled a set of lottery numbers I had unintentionally seen in my previous life—a lottery ticket Mike Young had casually tossed on the table when I was the Canary. At that moment, the numbers felt lucky, and I instinctively memorized them.
Only when the draw was announced did I realize that those numbers had won the grand prize. By then, however, the ticket had already been thrown away by Mike Young, and I dared not bring it up.
I deliberately changed into a loose tracksuit, put on a baseball cap and a mask, wrapping myself up tightly. Then, I went to the lottery station near my home and bought more than twenty tickets, each filled with that same set of numbers.
As I stepped out of the lottery ticket shop, the sunlight was just right, filtering through the leaves and casting dappled shadows on the ground.
I looked up at the sky, where a few white clouds drifted across the azure blue, and suddenly, in my heart, I felt the hope for this life finally breaking into reality.
After my parents began receiving treatment, their complexions improved day by day.
My father found a part-time job guarding the gate near the hospital, working eight hours every day. Though it was tiring, he said every little bit earned helped, and he didn't want me to shoulder the burden alone.
When Mother was feeling better, she would help the nurses fold blankets and tidy the hospital ward. The nurses all liked her very much and often brought her some fruit.
Although life was still far from prosperous, both of them wore smiles long absent from their faces, and the atmosphere at home gradually grew lighter.
After the relatives learned of our situation, they often came to visit at the hospital. Some brought fruit and nutritional supplements, while others helped care for our parents, allowing me time to manage affairs at home.
"Willow," Aunt Bella sighed helplessly as she peeled an apple for Mother, her voice heavy with resignation, "how could Whitney be so foolish, I wonder?"
Why give up a perfectly good life to become a mistress? What good could possibly come of that?
I smiled faintly, saying nothing.
There are some things I don't need to say; everyone knows them clearly in their hearts.
Whitney Lynn's choice was her own, and she alone must bear the consequences.
At that moment, the hospital ward door was flung open, and Whitney Lynn walked in.
She wore a revealing slip dress, the hem so short it almost exposed her upper thighs, with several bandages taped to her face—clearly fresh from cosmetic surgery.
Seeing our parents looking well, their faces flushed with health, she sneered disdainfully, her tone laced with sarcasm: "Oh, still alive, huh?"
I thought my sister, who loathes hardship and toil, would have long since abandoned you all.
Aunt Bella immediately flew into a rage, placing the peeled apple on the table beside Mother, she stood abruptly and pointed at Whitney Lynn's nose, her voice rising several octaves: "Whitney Lynn! How dare you speak like that?"
These are your own parents!
If it weren't for Willow borrowing money everywhere and selling the house, would your parents be in the state they are now?
How shameful of you to run off and become someone's Canary. Don't you feel humiliated, yet you still have the nerve to say such things?
Whitney Lynn's face flushed red and then turned pale as she roughly pushed away Aunt Bella's hand, her eyes full of impatience: "I'm talking to my sister. What does it have to do with you?"
Mind your own business!
She turned to me, her eyes filled with calculation and a misguided sense of cleverness: "Sister, I know you're beautiful, and Mr. Young was interested in you before."
The bandages on my face haven't been removed yet, so Mr. Young can't touch me for now.
Why don't you come with me? The two of us sisters will take good care of him so he'll give us more money, and then you can treat our parents' illnesses. How wonderful that would be.
"Shut up!" Father slammed the table fiercely, making the glass of water tremble. His chest heaved with anger, his face flushed bright red. "You shameless woman, don't drag your sister into this!"
The Lynn family does not have a daughter as dishonorable as you!
Mother shook with fury, pointing toward the doorway, her voice sharp with rage: "Leave! We do not want to see you!"
If you keep spouting nonsense here, I won't be so polite to you!
I quickly supported my parents, gently patting their backs, terrified that their anger might cause them harm.
Whitney Lynn, however, remained indifferent. She pulled a bank card from her bag and slammed it on the table in front of my mother with a sharp snap, her tone full of contempt: "There are three hundred thousand in here; consider it me buying out our mother-daughter bond."
From now on, whether you live or die, don't come looking for me. We are no longer connected.
My mother picked up the bank card, her hands trembling with rage, about to throw it back at Whitney Lynn, but I quickly stopped her.
I bent down to pick up the bank card, looked at Whitney Lynn, and spoke calmly yet firmly, "Rest assured, from now on, my parents and I will never bother you again."
I hope you will keep your word and never appear before us again.
Whitney Lynn sneered, her eyes brimming with contempt: "Who cares to associate with you?"
You'd better take care of yourselves first; don't come begging me when you run out of money for treatment.
Having said that, she clicked her high heels and walked away without a backward glance, leaving the room filled with awkwardness and anger.
Holding the bank card, I went to the hospital's payment counter and transferred the money into my parents' treatment account, feeling a deep sigh of relief.
In my previous life, it was because I lacked that money that I had to set aside my dignity and beg Mike Young, thereby falling into an abyss.
This life, I finally no longer have to.
At night, I stayed by the hospital bedside; my parents were asleep. The ward was silent except for the beeping of the heart monitor.
Suddenly, I received an unfamiliar text message from Fiona Scott: "Willow, be careful. Whitney has sent people to capture you and said they will inject you to force you into serving Mike Young."
She just called me and accidentally let something slip. You must be extremely careful!
My heart instantly tightened in my throat, and a cold sweat broke out along my back.
I quietly slipped out of the hospital ward, careful not to make a sound. At the corner at the end of the corridor, I saw two furtive men dressed in black, wearing baseball caps, speaking softly into their phones. Though their voices were hushed, I still caught fragments of their conversation.
"Ms. Lynn, rest assured, we have everything under control."
As soon as Willow Lynn leaves the hospital ward, take her directly to Mr. Young to ensure nothing goes wrong.
Remember to give her the injection; Mr. Young prefers something a bit stronger. Don't let her be uncooperative when the time comes. On the other end of the phone came Whitney Lynn's cold and triumphant voice, a sound like the venomous tongue of a serpent that sent chills down one's spine.
I covered my mouth, afraid to make a sound, fearing they would discover me.
I hurriedly slipped into the nearby stairwell, my heart still pounding wildly.
I took out my phone to check the date; the lottery draw was that very night.
As long as I can successfully claim the prize tomorrow, I can take my parents away from here, far from Whitney Lynn and Mike Young, and start a new life.
I dared not return to the hospital ward, fearing those two men might be stationed at the door.
I found a chain hotel not far from the hospital, booked a room, then called my parents, instructing them to quietly pack their valuables and ID cards and slip out through the hospital's side entrance unnoticed, to meet me at the hotel.
Fortunately, those two men remained guarding the hospital's main entrance, unaware of our escape, and my parents arrived safely at the hotel.
Early the next morning, just as dawn was breaking, I could hardly contain myself as I opened the computer to check the lottery results from the previous night.
When I saw that familiar set of numbers appear as the first prize, my hands trembled with excitement and tears immediately streamed down my face.
I quickly woke my parents and shared the good news; they were overwhelmed with joy. Mother even wept as she said, 'This is wonderful, Willow, we are finally saved!'
I took the lottery ticket to the lottery center to claim the prize.
After taxes were deducted, the final amount was exactly 225 million.
Holding that heavy bank card, my hands shook—I realized that in this lifetime, we would never have to worry about money again, and my parents could receive the best treatment.
I took my parents straight to the airport and bought the earliest flight to the south.
The southern city's climate is warm, and the environment is pleasant—ideal for my parents' recovery.
As the plane took off, my mother looked out at the clouds—those pure white clouds resembling cotton candy—and whispered softly, "Willow, we can finally live a good life."
I grasped her hand firmly and nodded resolutely, my eyes filled with hope: "Yes, everything will get better from now on. We will never suffer injustice again."
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