Ethan Carter, 19, an ordinary senior high student from a C-level county in District 19.
He had long ranked first in his class, but his college entrance exam score barely passed the second-tier cutoff. When he returned to school to collect his score report, his homeroom teacher solemnly advised him on the preparations he would need for the long road of life ahead.
Standing on the central stage of the playground, under the admiring and jealous gazes of the whole school and with the blessings of his subject teachers, Ethan received his priceless graduation certificate. It seemed as if he were the only graduate in the entire school. After taking the certificate, he did not want to stay even a moment longer and quickly walked toward the school gate.
At the instant he left the school gate and looked back into the campus, several subject teachers waved goodbye to him in different "forms," while his homeroom teacher stood at the center with a knowing smile.
"Are you back?"
Ethan returned to their seventy-square-meter, two-bedroom apartment. His mother's familiar voice came from the kitchen.
"Mom… I told you not to cook. You're not well—go lie down and rest."
Ethan's mother was forty-two, but she already looked prematurely aged with a head of white hair. Last year she was diagnosed with a strange disease called "Kaji Mo," a rare foreign virus infection that disrupts the secretion of growth-hormone-inducing factors and causes the body to age at five times the normal rate.
In the country, only certain major urban centers have medical means to treat this disease. From online inquiries, Ethan learned that surgery would cost at least 3 BTC and the success rate did not exceed thirty percent.
Putting aside the success rate, a family like Ethan's could not even afford 0.3 BTC. Moreover, Ethan had never heard anything about his father since childhood; his memories of his father were vague, and his mother never spoke of him, raising Ethan conscientiously by herself.
Because his mother refused to talk about it, Ethan stopped asking from middle school onward, assuming his father had long since died.
"Have you selected your school? Mom doesn't care about top-tier or second-tier — I only want my son to keep studying. I heard from neighbors that as long as you pick a good major, it's all the same."
"Mm… I've chosen."
Whenever he saw his mother's white hair and aged appearance, tears always welled in Ethan's eyes.
He took over the cooking—he had learned to be self-reliant since elementary school. At noon the two of them ate a simple, frugal meal.
After lunch Ethan had half an hour to rest, then in the afternoon he worked part-time as a cashier at a convenience store. His mother's disease accelerated her physical aging; she needed more than eighteen hours of sleep a day and could not handle any work.
"Mom, go rest. I'll bring you something from the supermarket after I finish work at eight tonight."
Watching his mother walk back into the room, tears streamed down Ethan's cheeks.
As for why he failed the college entrance exam: before the exam he had been found to carry the same virus as his mother, though it was currently latent. The latency period was unknown and it could flare up at any time. Treatment required waiting for the virus to manifest so it could be precisely located and removed.
Thus "going to university" was no longer something Ethan expected once he learned this. In the time before the exam he planned how, after high school, he could earn money quickly—enough to treat his mother first, then try to cure himself.
By then, the young man who had yet to step fully into society had already drafted three short-term money-making plans, two of which involved breaking the law; after risk assessment, these still seemed preferable to sitting and waiting to die.
Almost every day Ethan scanned all the newspapers, reading efficiently and precisely to find useful information. Today he found an unexpected lead.
In an inconspicuous corner of the city daily he often read, there was an ad that caught his attention.
"What's this? A test experiment?"
—Successful test subjects rewarded with 3.5 BTC—the short line in the article caught Ethan's eye.
That lower-right corner of the paper usually carried health ads aimed at the elderly, but this time an ad with this offer appeared. It only included a brief description and a research institute contact number. Normally Ethan would dismiss it as a scam, but now he clung to that faint possibility like a candle in the wind and dialed the number.
"Let's try. If it's a scam I'll just hang up."
The call connected immediately. A polite female voice came through the receiver.
"Hello, resident of District 19! Thank you for calling the Volunteer Recruitment Office of our research institute. May I ask your name and whether you're male or female?"
"My surname is Carter." Ethan didn't answer the gender question because he thought his voice was recognizable.
"Please state your gender. This information is very important to us."
"Male." Ethan frowned—the caller spoke professionally, with broadcast-standard Mandarin.
An observant and analytical person, Ethan noticed some clues: even if it were a scam, it seemed sophisticated enough not to place such an ad in a cheap paper.
"Mr. Carter, have you had a physical examination at a county-level or higher hospital within the past three months?"
"A checkup? Yes. I had a detailed physical one month ago because of the college exam."
"Very good. That saves us a lot of trouble. We will retrieve your physical exam records for a comprehensive evaluation. If you meet our volunteer criteria, we will contact you as soon as possible. Please keep your communication device available. Thank you for calling and have a pleasant weekend."
The call ended. Ethan looked puzzled—he didn't fully trust them. Scammers nowadays were high-level criminals, and this fishing method was common. But if it were real, he immediately worried his latent Kaji Mo virus would exclude him from the candidate list.
Ring!
Just as Ethan lay down on the sofa to rest, his phone rang. He had caller-ID service, and the screen displayed "Unknown Origin"...