An old woman named Margaret Miller fell on the side of the road, and no one dared to help her. Without hesitation, I walked over and took her to the hospital. At that moment, I felt I wasn't just helping her up, but humanity itself. But at the hospital, she accused me of knocking her down. She argued self-righteously: "If you didn't knock me down, why would you take me to the hospital? I'm not your mother." Later, I took her to court. Even later, when she fell in front of me again, I didn't lift a finger. 1 I was driving home from work when a large crowd blocked the middle of the road, stopping me in my tracks. I got out and walked closer, hearing hushed discussions. "An old lady fell in the middle of the road. Don't help her! Check your bank account balance before you even think about it!" "I want to help, but there are no cameras around. No way. I'll just call 911 for her." "Sigh, if you call 911, the old lady might kick the bucket before they get here. Then her family will ask you why you called if you had nothing to do with it. How will you answer? Doing a good deed just gets you in trouble." I noticed a filming crew to the right, probably TikTokers or YouTubers. A pretty girl with a lapel mic was speaking: "An old grandma falls on the roadside, and no one helps. Is this a distortion of humanity or a loss of morality..." In recent years, incidents of elderly people falling and being ignored have become common. Ever since that kind-hearted college student helped a fallen senior only to be extorted, everyone's hearts have turned cold. I've asked myself: If I encountered such a thing, would I help or not? The answer was definitely yes. I don't believe every old person is a scheming villain. I believe good deeds are rewarded. After a brief thought, I pushed through the crowd of onlookers and walked up to the old woman. She was convulsing, her face purple, her hand clenched tightly over her heart. Her cloudy eyes looked at me pleadingly. Then, she fainted. I bent down to pick her up, but a dark-faced middle-aged man stopped me: "Sister, think this through. You look like you have a family. If this old lady blackmails you..." I knew what he was going to say, but I picked her up anyway. At this moment, I wasn't lifting an old woman, but fallen humanity! 2 I took the old woman to the hospital and paid for her medical bills upfront. She was wheeled into the operating room for surgery. The doctor took off his mask: "It's rare to see a daughter-in-law like you. I've worked in this hospital for years, and most daughters-in-law hide far away when their mother-in-law gets sick." I smiled awkwardly: "I'm not her daughter-in-law. We're not related. I just saw her fall on the road and brought her here." The doctor looked at me with respect: "Then you're truly amazing. But, miss, did you notice any cameras when you helped her?" I laughed: "Hey, who looks for cameras when saving a life? I just wanted a clear conscience." The doctor gave me a thumbs up. My phone rang, and I walked to the side. It was my husband, Steve. Picking up, he immediately bombarded me: "Heather, what time is it? Why aren't you back yet? Do you know how worried I was?" I used to think my husband called because he cared. But later I learned he was just waiting for me to come back to do laundry, cook, and take care of the kid... From working at the office to working at home. He was a pure egoist, and my life with him was a mess. Irritation rose in my chest: "I'm at the hospital." Steve sounded nervous: "You're sick? Is it serious?" He was probably calculating if spending our savings on my treatment was worth it. I didn't want to argue: "I'm not sick. I brought a fallen elderly woman to the hospital." Steve's voice suddenly turned shrill: "Heather, old people fall every day. Are you the only capable one to take her to the hospital?" "Why don't I see you caring about family matters? I have an open class tomorrow, and my suit isn't washed." I retorted: "Why don't you wash it yourself? And what's wrong with me helping an old lady?" I hung up. 3 There was an old flip phone in the woman's pocket, unlocked. I scrolled through the contacts and called the number named "Hubby." It rang for a long time. Just as I was about to hang up, someone answered. Through the phone, I heard the shuffling of mahjong tiles. The voice sounded extremely impatient: "Old hag, I'm playing mahjong, don't bother me." I imagined a smoky, chaotic room and suppressed my disgust: "Hello, your wife fell and is in the hospital now." "Fell? Not dead, is she?" It seemed her husband didn't care about her at all. He cursed foully on the other end; he must have lost a hand. I wanted to hang up, but he asked: "Who are you?" I held back the urge to call him a scumbag: "I saw your wife fall on the road and brought her to the hospital." He immediately said: "Stay at the hospital. Don't leave. I'll be right there." "Don't leave"—those words gave me a bad feeling. My phone buzzed. My husband texted: Come back and cook, I'm starving. I didn't reply. Half a minute later, he called again. I didn't answer and blocked his number. Not long after, a disheveled old man with sanpaku eyes arrived. He walked straight up to me and grabbed my collar: "You knocked down my wife. How do you plan to compensate us?" 4 He reeked of stale smoke. Instead of checking on his unconscious wife, he demanded compensation first. I pushed his hand away and pointed at the hallway camera: "There's surveillance here. If you touch me again, believe it or not, I'll call the cops and have you arrested." The old man looked timid but bluffed loudly: "I don't care! You knocked down my wife, you must pay!" I asked: "With which eye did you see me knock her down?" He pointed at my nose and cursed: "If you didn't knock her down, would you be so kind as to bring her to the hospital? Or are you her long-lost daughter?" I was stunned by his words. He continued roaring: "Besides paying all my wife's medical bills, you have to pay for emotional distress, lost wages... let me calculate, fifty thousand dollars in total!" Impressive that he knew legal terms like emotional distress and lost wages. He really put effort into extortion. I asked: "What if I don't pay?" He stiffened his neck: "If you don't pay, I'll call the police. The law will back us up!" The doctor who operated on the old lady passed by and couldn't stand it anymore. He handed his phone to the old man: "Sir, call the police right now." The old man visibly shrank back, muttering curses. He walked aside to make a call. If he won't call the police, I will. I dialed 911. The police hadn't arrived yet, but the old woman's son did. He wore a fading gold chain and had tattoos on his arms, his face full of flesh. Seeing me, he snorted and looked me up and down: "You're the one who hit my mom? My dad said fifty grand. I scolded him." I thought, Can't judge a book by its cover. He looks fierce but seems reasonable. Unexpectedly, his next words made me lose it.
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