After getting accepted into an Ivy League university, I immediately cut all ties with my destitute father. A year later, he made a massive comeback in the business world and adopted a daughter who was sweeter and more obedient than I ever was. During a live New Year's Eve broadcast, I called in to send him my blessings: "Happy New Year, Dad. I wish you health, peace, and happiness." My dad scoffed coldly. "Don't call me Dad. I don't have a daughter like you!" I lowered my eyes, choking back a sob, but kept a smile on my face. "I'm sorry. This is the last time I'll ever call you Dad." He sneered. "The last time? I hope you mean it's the last time before you drop dead." Hearing this, the host looked absolutely shocked and asked: "Mr. Sterling... you didn't know? This was pre-recorded by your daughter." "And she really is... just as you said... dead." 1 "Dead?" My dad's sneer froze on his lips, a flash of unease crossing his eyes. But he quickly regained his composure. "Is this some kind of stunt for the broadcast?" The host tried to explain, but my pre-recorded message continued: "Next, I'd like to sing a song for my dad." Clearing my throat, I fought down the urge to cry and began to sing: "I wish I could be like before~ holding your warm hand~ But you aren't by my side~ so I ask the wind to bring you peace... Thank you for everything you did~ holding up our home with your two hands~ Always giving your all~ giving the best to me..." I choked on the final notes, barely finishing the song. The moment the tears fell, I scrambled out of the camera's view. Only my tearful, shaking voice could be heard on the recording: "Dad, being your daughter in this life was my greatest luck." The broadcast call ended there. My dad's face remained impassive. "Hmph. What a fake, hypocritical act." The live chat, however, was filled with a barrage of mockery: "LMAO, why is Chloe Sterling trying to stay relevant right now?" "A good education filters out bad students, not bad people!" "Did her Ivy League school find out she's a terrible person and kick her out? Is that why she's coming back to play the victim now that Mr. Sterling is rich again?" "I know, right? It feels like reading a satisfying revenge novel. The evil daughter abandons her poor dad for glory, does every terrible thing imaginable, and ends up with a miserable ending." My ending was indeed miserable. I died in excruciating pain. But I clearly never did any terrible things. I used to give my dad massages when he was tired. I did the laundry and cooked for him. In my short nineteen years of life, the only "terrible" thing I ever did... Was cutting ties with him the year he was at his absolute lowest. But I didn't want to do it. I was sick. If I didn't do it, I would have dragged my dad down with me... The host finally spoke up to explain: "Mr. Sterling, this is not a stunt for the broadcast. Please, look at the main screen..." 2 Quickly, my figure appeared on the large screen in the studio. The background was outside an oncology ward. But the very next second, I held up a medical file to block the camera lens, my tone incredibly impatient: "I said I'm not filming! Can you stop following me?!" From off-camera, a mature and very sincere woman's voice replied: "Little girl, my name is Sarah. I'm not a scammer. I'm from the production crew of the documentary series Screw Cancer. I can help you." I pulled the medical file away, revealing my gaunt, bloodless face to the camera. But quickly, I shoved the file right back in front of the lens, pointing to the diagnosis: "Do you know what wild-type colorectal cancer is? "Do you know what a fetal-differentiated adenocarcinoma is? "This is a cancer I was born with. It's an ultra-rare disease. There are only 5 cases in the entire country. "There is no targeted chemotherapy protocol for it. "The doctor said I have a year to live, at most." A heavy silence fell over the video. I just offered a weak, bitter smile: "Helping me is useless. It's a dead end. You should find someone else." With that, I turned to walk away. "Our production offers a very high appearance fee. If you agree to film, you'll have the money for treatment." The woman grabbed my arm. I shook my head, smiling bitterly. "Proton therapy. It's currently the only chemo that has a slight effect on me. Do you know how much one session costs?" I held up five fingers. "Fifty thousand dollars." I pulled her hand off my arm, turned, and walked away. But the very next second, I suddenly collapsed to my knees, falling hard onto the floor. The camera shook violently, and from off-screen came a panicked scream: "Little girl!" 3 [Goodbye to the Rest of My Life, Part 2 - September 10, 2023 - Everyone Goes Bald] "You're this year's top liberal arts student in the state, the Chloe Sterling who got accepted into an Ivy League, right?" I had just sat down in the salon chair and looked visibly annoyed: "What are you doing here again?" Sarah's voice was as gentle as an older sister's: "You're trending online. Everyone is calling you an ungrateful brat. They're saying your dad worked himself to the bone to put you through school, but you abandoned him because he's broke and 'beneath you' now. "But they don't know you have cancer. If we film a documentary about you, you can clear your name." I looked at my reflection in the mirror and offered a very ugly smile: "I want them to think I'm an ungrateful brat. Especially... my dad." After saying that, I ignored her. I just touched the ends of my hair, lowered my eyes, and smiled bitterly. My voice was so quiet it was barely a whisper: "I'm sorry, Dad. I couldn't protect your favorite hair." When I looked up again, my eyes were red. "Tony, please shave it all off." Hearing this, the stylist looked at me in absolute disbelief: "Are you sure? Your hair is so long and beautiful, and it looks like you take really good care of it." I did take good care of it. Just a few days ago, my dad was the one helping me condition it. He loved washing my hair the most. I nodded firmly, speaking as if it were the most normal thing in the world: "I have cancer. Even if I don't cut it now, it's all going to fall out once I start chemo." The stylist didn't say another word. With shaking hands, he began to shave my head. Two minutes later, I was completely bald. I stood up, thanked him, and prepared to pay, but the stylist stopped me: "It's on the house. You don't have to pay." I moved his hand away anyway and scanned the QR code to pay. "I don't need anyone's pity." But the very next second, the stylist took the clippers and started shaving his own head. "Then I'll keep you company. I think a shaved head actually looks pretty cool." I stood frozen in place. Before I could even process what was happening, Sarah spoke up too: "Shave mine too. I've always wanted to try the bald look." Before I could stop her, her beautiful, shiny hair fell to the floor. Two streams of tears rolled down my cheeks. "You guys really didn't have to do this... I'm honestly... okay..." But neither of them spoke. They just looked at me and smiled—a goofy, earnest smile. Stepping out of the salon, I turned and faced the camera: "I agree to film. I don't want to owe anyone anything." 4 [Goodbye to the Rest of My Life, Part 3 - September 11, 2023 - Silent Fatherly Love] "Why did you cut ties with your dad? Wouldn't it be better to face this together?" Sarah's voice came from off-camera. I smiled bitterly. "No!" "Why?" Sarah looked confused. I didn't answer. I just took out my phone and pulled up a news video I had saved in my photo album from three years ago. Soon, my dad's face appeared on the phone screen. It was 2:00 AM. He was wearing a food delivery uniform, squatting on the curb, eating a bowl of plain noodles. He was only in his early forties then, but his temples were already graying. The reporter asked him: "Sir, why are you just eating a plain bowl of noodles?" My dad was eating like it was a feast. He just replied: "It's enough." The reporter asked again: "You're holding a bag of meat, why aren't you eating that?" My dad looked at the bag of meat, a massive smile on his face: "Saving it for my daughter's breakfast tomorrow, hehe." The reporter asked a third time: "Why work so hard? Delivering food in the middle of the night?" My dad seemed to think of something. The exhaustion vanished from his face instantly, replaced by overwhelming pride: "My daughter got into a really good high school. It's the best high school in the state, so it costs money, hehe." A moment of silence in the video. My dad kept his head down, quickly finishing his noodles, and hopped back onto his electric scooter. The reporter encouraged him: "Keep going, sir!" My dad waved his hand. "Just gotta get the job done!" The video ended there. Even though I had watched it countless times, my tears still flowed uncontrollably. I sniffled and smiled: "When I got home from school during the day, 'Comrade' Sterling would always have a hot meal waiting for me. But one day, school let out early, and he wasn't home. I asked him where he was, and he lied, saying he was out at a fancy dinner with friends. But he was actually out delivering food." "At night, while I was asleep, he would sneak out to do deliveries. He thought I didn't know, but I knew everything..." "That was when I secretly swore to myself that I would study as hard as I could, get into the best university in the country, and repay him." "Later on... I did get in, but now I don't have the chance to repay him anymore..." I finished my sentence with a smile, but why? Why do people cry when they smile? I tilted my head back to wipe the tears away, my voice cracking as I asked Sarah: "Sarah, guess what Comrade Sterling would do if he knew I had cancer?" Sarah looked at me, speechless. "He would sell his blood. He would sell his kidneys." My heart trembled as I said it: "Actually, to save up for my senior year tuition and living expenses, he tried to secretly sell his blood and his kidney. Thank god I found out and threatened to kill myself to stop him..." I wiped a tear from the corner of my eye: "Before I left, his startup project finally caught the eye of an angel investor. "They say when one person gets cancer, the whole family suffers. "If an angel investor found out a family had a sickly burden like me, do you think they'd still be willing to invest?" Sarah's voice trembled: "Chloe..." I shook my head, signaling that I was okay. "The cancer will take my life, but a $50,000 chemo session... that would take my dad's life." Sarah pressed her lips together, her eyes starting to turn red. I sniffled, smiling: "The day I left, I used the most vicious words possible to absolutely destroy Comrade Sterling. "He got on his knees and begged me. He said he was going to make a lot of money soon, and asked me to just wait one more year. In one year, he would make me the happiest princess in the world. "Do you know? I wanted so badly to stay. To wait for him year after year, to grow old with him. "But... I don't have the time to wait..." The tears fell like broken beads, splashing down one by one. I frantically wiped the tears from my face and pleaded: "Sarah, can you promise not to release these videos until after I'm dead?" The camera started to shake. Sarah choked on a sob: "Chloe, you're not going to die. You can be cured..." In the video, I swallowed hard, tears shimmering in my eyes. "If you don't promise me, then I won't film anymore." Her crying became more audible: "Okay. I promise..." 5 [Goodbye to the Rest of My Life, Part 4 - November 3, 2023 - A Little Chemo? Handled!] In this video, I was visibly much thinner than in the previous ones. The slight baby fat I used to have was gone, my cheeks completely hollow. The cancer cells were spreading rapidly. The pain was so agonizing I could only lie flat on the hospital bed like a dead fish. "Can you give me a painkiller injection?" My voice was incredibly weak. I pulled $1,340 out from under my pillow and handed it to Sarah. It was my entire life savings. Sarah sniffled and took the money. But the very next second, she shoved the money right back under my pillow. "What painkiller injection? You need to start chemo immediately. "I asked the doctor. If you don't start chemo, at the rate the cancer is spreading, you won't even make it past the end of the year..." I offered a weak smile. "That's fine too. Better to get it over with quickly than to suffer for a long time..." But Sarah wasn't having it. "I already paid for your first chemo session. The doctor will be here to take you in shortly." "Where did you get the money?" I forced myself to sit up despite the excruciating pain. She gently pushed me back down, her eyes darting away. "Our production crew applied for a grant for you. It's your appearance fee. Just use it, don't worry about it." I wanted to ask more questions, but the doctor arrived to wheel me into the chemo room. Very quickly, I was hooked up to countless tubes, and an oxygen mask was placed over my mouth. The doctor didn't allow filming for the actual treatment. Sarah pointed the camera at the closed door of the chemo room. A few moments later, my agonizing, blood-curdling screams echoed through the camera. It was horrifying. The doctor lied to me! Didn't he say the soundproofing was great and I could scream as loud as I wanted?! Zero stars! Half an hour later, the chemo was finally over. I was wheeled out of the room. Seeing Sarah's camera, I immediately turned my face away. But the camera still captured my pathetic state—my face completely covered in snot, tears, and drool. I quickly wiped my face clean, met Sarah's deeply worried gaze, and flashed a massive smile. "A little chemo? Handled!" I made a pinch gesture with my hand. Sarah covered my hand with hers, her voice hoarse: "You did so great!" "I made lunch for you. I cooked it myself. I don't know if you'll like it." On the hospital table, there were three dishes and a soup. It looked and smelled amazing. My eyes sparkled. "Wow! These are all my favorites! Thank you so much, Sarah." I looked at the camera and started imitating those Mukbang streamers. "Let me show everyone what a colorectal cancer patient eats after a chemo session." I held up each dish to the camera to show them off. Then I ate with immense relish, actually eating half a bowl more rice than usual. From off-camera, Sarah kept praising me, telling me I was doing great. I exaggerated my expressions to respond: "It's all because your cooking is so good, Sarah! It tastes just like my dad's cooking. I want to lick the plate clean." I picked up the plate, pretending I was about to lick it. Sarah stopped me sternly. "No licking the plate." She set the camera down on the table and packed up the thermos containers. The moment Sarah walked out of the room, my expression instantly turned to pure agony. I scrambled out of bed, hugging the trash can, vomiting uncontrollably. When my face appeared on camera again, it was covered in tears from vomiting so violently. "Please don't misunderstand... "Sarah's food really is incredibly delicious. "It's just that the side effects of the chemo are getting worse, that's why I'm throwing up..." 6 [Goodbye to the Rest of My Life, Part 5 - December 31, 2023 - The Last Day of the Year, The Last Day of My Life.] "Chloe, what do you want to do on the very last day of 2023? I'll make it happen." The scene cut. I was busy picking out a pretty hat for myself. Hearing her, I raised an eyebrow and smiled. "You said it, not me." I mysteriously dragged her into a car. In the car, she couldn't help but ask me again: "Chloe, where exactly are we going?" I grinned. "To pick out a grave." Sarah almost dropped the camera, her eyes instantly turning red. "Chloe..." But I acted like it was no big deal. "Sarah, I did my research. Picking a grave with good Feng Shui is super important. "They say if you're buried in a good spot, it guarantees a healthy, disease-free next life. It'll guarantee I get to be Comrade Sterling's daughter again..." When it was time to get out of the car, the smile on my face became stiff. Because by this point, I could no longer walk. Sarah helped me into a wheelchair. After looking around and being picky, I chose the cheapest plot and said very seriously: "I did the calculations. This plot is the best. If I'm buried here, I'll definitely be reincarnated into a great life next time." Sarah pressed her lips together and nodded, looking up at the sky, avoiding my eyes. By the time we got back to the hospital, I was hooked up to an oxygen tank again. At this moment, there were only five minutes left in 2023. Fireworks were going off non-stop outside. A huge crowd had gathered in front of the massive screen on the mall across from the hospital, waiting for the countdown. The TV on the wall was playing the New Year's Eve gala. Sarah sat by my bed, keeping me company. I spoke first: "Sarah, after I die, will you remember me forever?" Sarah choked back a sob. "Absolutely." I shook my head. "No. After one year, you have to forget me." Sarah didn't answer. She just asked: "Then can you promise me that you'll keep living well in the new year?" I smiled. "How about we play Rock-Paper-Scissors? If I win, we do it my way. If you win, we do it your way." In the end, I lost. At that moment, the New Year's countdown started playing on the TV. On the big screen outside the window, the numbers flashed: 10, 9, 8, 7... Feeling a premonition, the exact second the clock struck midnight, I looked steadily at Sarah and said: "Happy New Year, Sarah." "Happy New Year to you too, Chloe. You have to honor our bet." My lips curved into a massive, wide smile. "Okay... "Sarah, I have a secret to tell you. I miss my dad so, so much..." The next second, the heart monitor let out a piercing, continuous alarm. My heartbeat flatlined.
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