When Rasfa heard the news, he practically exploded.

Was this a joke? What kind of status did he have? No one had ever made such a request before.

He couldn't calm down, but his body felt worse and worse. He was forced to call over his personal doctor and health consultant, Reidra.

Reidra was a red-haired honey, but Rasfa didn't have the energy to pay attention to her beauty now. Plus, Reidra had been bought by his dissenters.

Reidra hurriedly gave Rasfa a checkup. Expression grim, she said, "Mr. Rasfa, I suggest you go to a hospital now and do a full checkup."

"No, I don't have the time," Rasfa refused Reidra's suggestion directly. What followed was a long string of coughs. "Hack…I have an important meeting tomorrow. Prescribe me some…some medicine…"

"I'm sorry, sir. I can't do that. If you refuse to go to the hospital, you might be going to heaven instead of the meeting room tomorrow. I'm telling you solemnly as a doctor now that, with your current health condition, you may die at any time. I'm not trying to scare you. It's really best for you to go to the hospital. They might save you. You can't waste another second right now."

From a professional angle, Rasfa's body was at the brink of falling apart completely. Even if he went to the hospital, he might not be able to live for twenty-four more hours.

If Reidra prescribed him medicine now, it would be different than conducting a murder. Even if she wasn't sentenced to murder, her license would be revoked too.

What was a health consultant's job? It was her duty to make the correct suggestion to her patient or client when needed.

Being bought over by others concerned her ethics. However, she would never go against her professionalism.

"I won't go to the hospital."

Reidra turned to the servant beside her. "Paul, I suggest you call Mr. Rasfa's daughter and tell her that I'm not joking around."

"Okay, okay, I'll go to the hospital. Please don't call her."

"Sir, I'll go get the car ready," Paul said.

Rasfa was sent to the hospital unwillingly and underwent a full-body check under Reidra's directions.

Rasfa was sent to the ICU. No one had come to tell him the results yet, but he could feel that his conditions were getting worse every second. It was truly horrible. He'd never felt like this before.

He'd been uncomfortable before, but he had always known that he could push through. It was different this time. He really had a bad premonition.

"Paul, Paul, come in," Rasfa yelled.

"Sir, how may I help you?"

"Call that doctor and tell him to come. I'll give him a hundred thousand! Tell him to hurry."

No ego was more important than his life. If he could be saved, he wouldn't mind surrendering and paying a hundred grand.

Just then, a woman in her forties walked in. It was his daughter, Zola.

"Zola, what's wrong?"

As his daughter, Zola had basically inherited all of Rasfa's personality. She was aggressive and keen-witted. Both of her marriages failed because she cared more about her career than she did her family.

She had high standards for her own appearance, though, and always had a personal stylist following around wherever she went. However, she came without makeup today. She looked like she'd been crying.

"Father, how are you?" Zola tried hard to control her emotions.

"Is it really that bad?"

"No, it's just a small problem. You just need to rest in the hospital for a few days and then you can keep f*cking with your b*tches."

"How long do I have?" Rasfa asked softly.

"Father, it's not as bad as you think."

"How long?"

"The doctor said…" Tears filled Zola's eyes. "He said you might not…might not live past tonight…"

Rasfa was dazed. He thought Zola would say he had a few more months. Wasn't that how the movies were all like?

"But…but I…I don't feel that bad…"

People who were about to die all felt like that - a temporary recovery of consciousness. His aging body was squeezing out the last bits of his vitality.

Zola lowered her head, not replying.

Just then, there was a commotion outside. Zola grew furious. This was the hospital! This was the ICU!

"What's going on outside?"

"Sir, the doctor from today came in," Paul said while entering the room, "But was stopped by the hospital's security outside the ICU. The doctor insists bringing his pets in. He said that he won't come in unless his pets can too."

"What a joke. Chase that bastard away," Zola yelled angrily. "We don't need him here."

"Let him in. Go talk to the security." Rasfa didn't want to die. The closer one was to death, the more one feared death. This was how humans were. No one could change it.

A while later, Chen Zhao walked in. He had a tool kit and a Shar Pei in his arms.

"Haha… Old Jewish man, I told you that you wouldn't live past tonight. Do you believe me now?"

"Who are you? How dare you speak to my father like this? I take that you don't want to stay in Los Angeles anymore."

"Your father, miss, I think you should find out what your father said to me today. I rarely loathe anyone, but your father will definitely enter my blacklist."

"It's okay, Zola," Rasfa said, suppressing his anger. "Sir, I'm deeply sorry for what I said today."

"No need to apologize. I'm not here to patch things. I'm only here for the money."

Rasfa's chest rose up and down. It was hard for him to breathe. He didn't even have the energy to get angry now. He could only stare at Chen Zhao with a strong desire to live.

"You know about my condition, right?"

"Of course. I've already warned you in the day. Right, I used my Eastern witchcraft and evidently, my prediction came true. You're going to die soon."

"Then you should know that if you're treatment isn't effective, not only won't you get a hundred grand, I'll also toss you into the sea to feed the sharks."

"Drink this." Chen Zhao held up a small bottle with black liquid inside.

"What's this?" Zola immediately grabbed the bottle. She didn't trust Chen Zhao at all because Chen Zhao had given her a horrible first impression. 

"Something that can make him live for three more days." Chen Zhao shrugged. "White man, what are you still hesitating about? If this doesn't work, I'll probably be arrested as a murderer, but it won't hurt you at all. You're about to die anyway, right? Do you think I'll endanger myself to make you die faster?"

"Zola, give me the medicine."

"Father."

"He's right," Rasfa said.

He had no other choice but to accept what he was offered.

"If my father dies, I will hunt you down."

"Miss, get it straight. I said that this medicine can only let him live for three more days. After the three days, please make an appointment beforehand if you need further treatment. Thanks."