Chapter 1

Among the three children in my wealthy family, I was the biggest embarrassment by a long shot.

My eldest sister, Eliana Spencer, was busy preparing to inherit the family business, while my younger brother, Alistair Spencer, the fake heir, was busy attending parties.

As for me, the real heir who had been brought back from the mountains, I was sent to the old family residence to care for my paralyzed grandfather.

In my first month caring for him, the family transferred $150 as my nursing allowance.

I did not think anything of it.

After all, Eliana knew how to make money for the family, and Alistair knew how to keep our parents happy. All I knew how to do was grow vegetables and raise chickens. $150 was already a generous amount.

That was more than good enough. Folks from the mountains had our own ways of getting by.

If I could not afford fine vegetables, I would grow my own in the yard. If I could not afford a caregiver, I would bathe Grandpa, turn him over, and get up at regular intervals throughout the night to give him his medication.

When I needed to replace his old oxygen concentrator, I spent my days digging up medicinal herbs and my nights weaving wicker baskets for the townspeople.

After more than half a year of saving every penny, I had finally scraped together $1,000.

The day the new machine arrived at the old residence, my father and mother happened to bring Eliana and Alistair over to visit Grandpa.

Eliana brought a top medical team. Alistair presented Grandpa with a wild Phoenix Root worth a million dollars.

Then there was me, looking like I had just crawled out of a dirt pit, carrying a bundle of wild vegetables in one hand and an $1,000 domestically-made oxygen concentrator in the other.

Alistair glanced at the machine in my arms and put on an exaggerated look of surprise.

“We give you $100,000 a month for Grandpa’s care, and this is the cheap piece of junk you bought him?”

Eliana’s face darkened. She demanded furiously, “That’s $900,000 over nine months! Where did you spend Grandpa’s life-saving money?"

I stared at her blankly, swallowed hard, and wiped the dust from my face.

We mountain folk were honest to a fault. If I was truly given that much money, Grandpa would be living in luxury right now.

Which brought me to the real question: I had not even caught a whiff of that money, so whose pockets had that $900,000 ended up lining?

Chapter 1

“Alistair has a fine specimen of wild Phoenix Root there. He paid $1 million for it at auction. That was thoughtful of him.”

The moment Mother sent the message to the family group chat, a string of heart emojis appeared beneath it.

My younger brother, Alistair Spencer, sent a voice message. His tone was gentle and obedient.

“As long as Grandpa gets better, no amount of money is too much.

“Oh, right. Didn’t Eliana prepare a surprise for Grandpa, too?”

My eldest sister, Eliana Spencer, replied almost immediately.

Eliana: [I’ve contacted a team of neurological rehabilitation specialists overseas. When I return to the country, I’ll bring them to the old residence to examine Grandpa.]

Father, who rarely spoke in the group chat, sent a smiling emoji.

Father: [You two have been such devoted children. Your mother and I are so proud to have raised you.]

I sat in the dimly lit bedroom of the old residence, holding my phone in one hand and a sewing needle in the other.

The photo on the screen practically glowed with gold. The wild Phoenix Root rested in a rosewood box, an auction certificate tucked beside its tangled roots.

I could not make heads or tails of the certificate. All I could think was that the Phoenix Root did not look as sturdy as the radishes growing on the mountain behind our house.

“See that?”

One of the family butlers, Mr. Timothy Zellen, stood behind me and tapped the screen with a finger.

“Miss. Eliana is bringing in specialists, and Mr. Alistair bought a Phoenix Root worth a million dollars. They really care about Mr. Spencer Sr.’s well-being. What have you, his own grandson, even prepared?”

I quickly put down my phone and flipped the care pad in my hands over, hiding the patches I had sewn onto it.

“I haven’t finished preparing anything yet.”

Mr. Zellen scoffed, “Fair enough. You spent twenty years in the mountains. What else would you know besides feeding chickens and working the fields? Just don’t drag in two sacks of potatoes and call it a heartfelt gift for Mr. Spencer Sr..”

My face burned with embarrassment, but I did not argue.

Mr. Zellen was not wrong.

Of the Spencer family's three children, I truly was the most embarrassing one for them to showcase in public.

Eliana had received an elite education since childhood and joined the family company in her early twenties.

Although Alistair was not a biological Spencer, he could play the piano, fence, and speak foreign languages. Everyone praised him as the perfect example of a young gentleman from a distinguished family whenever he accompanied our parents to events.

As for me, even after being brought back, I could never remember the right way to use a set of fine dining cutlery.

At my first family dinner, I used a soup spoon to scoop up dessert. Mother forbade me from coming downstairs for three whole days.

Later, Grandpa suffered a stroke and became paralyzed, leaving him in need of constant care.

Father and Mother did not even bother to ask my opinion. They simply had the chauffeur take me to the old family residence on the outskirts of the city.

During my first month there, Mr. Zellen informed me that the family had transferred my nursing allowance, which was $150.

I was overjoyed for an entire night.

Back in the mountains, I spent my days digging for medicinal herbs with my adoptive father, and even then, we could barely save $150 in a month.

If the Spencer family was willing to give me that much, I was already more than grateful.

If I could not afford fine vegetables, I would turn over the soil in the yard and grow my own lettuce, green beans, and tomatoes.

If I could not afford a caregiver, I would bathe Grandpa, turn him over in bed, and massage his hands and feet every day.

When his care pads wore out, I cut up old bedsheets, boiled the pieces in a big pot, then laid them out in the sun to dry, one by one.

Grandpa could no longer speak, but his eyes followed me wherever I went.

After I finished wiping his face one day, his fingers twitched ever so slightly. I leaned closer and pressed my ear to his mouth.

“Grandpa, are you thirsty?”

He blinked once. I immediately helped him sit up and carefully fed him half a cup of cool water.

Mr. Zellen leaned against the doorway with his arms crossed, his face twisted in disapproval.

“Mr. Spencer Sr. has always lived in luxury. Even his drinking water should come from a temperature-controlled purifier. Do you expect to get away with giving him water in that beat-up mug?”

I lowered my gaze to the mug in my hands.

The paint around the rim had chipped in a few places, but I had scrubbed it clean several times. It was spotless.

“The temperature-controlled kettle broke,” I explained. “I asked a repairman about it. It’ll cost more than $50 to fix. This month’s money has to go toward Grandpa’s medication. I can’t afford the repair yet.”

Mr. Zellen’s expression darkened.

“The Spencer family gives you money every month, and you're still standing here whining about being broke? If you can’t get the job done, stop making excuses.”

I was about to explain further when the oxygen concentrator beside Grandpa’s bed suddenly let out a shrill alarm.

Grandpa’s body jerked violently, and his lips began turning purple.

“Grandpa!”

I lunged toward the machine and checked the flow meter. The needle was stuck at the lowest setting, completely motionless.

Sweat poured down my face as I hurriedly disconnected the oxygen tube, checked the fittings, and tapped the machine’s casing the way the repairman had taught me.

The machine clicked twice. At last, oxygen began flowing again.

I sank to my knees beside the bed and held Grandpa’s icy hand. For a long time, I was too afraid to let go.

By the time the repairman arrived, night had fallen. He opened up the machine, took one look inside, and shook his head.

“This thing’s been running for over ten years. The components are all worn out. It won’t last much longer even if I repair it. You’d better replace it as soon as possible.”

I asked in a soft voice, “How much would a new one cost?”

“A reliable domestic model that can last you a good long while? Around $1,000.”

$1,000. I counted it over and over in my head.

At $150 a month, even if I did not spend a single cent on food or anything else, it would take me about seven months to save that much.

From outside the door, Mr. Zellen shouted impatiently.

“Zachary! What are you dawdling around for? Master Alistair wants some homemade chicken soup. Go butcher the chicken in the backyard and get it simmering. Have the chauffeur take it into the city tomorrow morning.”

I had raised that hen for more than half a year. I initially planned to cook it for Grandpa to help him regain his strength.

I glanced at Grandpa lying in bed, then quietly answered, “Coming.”

Late that night, after finishing the chicken soup, I returned to the bedroom.

The oxygen concentrator beeped again. Clutching the spare oxygen bag, I kept watch beside Grandpa’s bed all night.

Just before dawn, I gently rubbed his frail, bony hand and made a quiet decision.

$1,000. It was a small sum in comparison to a human life.

Whether it meant gathering herbs in the mountains all day or weaving baskets late into the night, I would find a way to buy Grandpa a new oxygen machine, no matter how long it took or how hard I had to work.

Chapter 2

At the first hint of dawn, I got up to heat some water.

After showering Grandpa, I helped him turn over, patted his back, and massaged his legs. By the time I finished changing his bedsheets, it was almost 10 AM.

I had just picked up the spoon to start eating cereal when Mr. Zellen tossed a ring of keys onto the table.

“The chicken coop in the backyard needs hosing down, and there’s a pile of firewood in the kitchen that needs chopping.

“And the leaves in the greenhouse are covered in dust. Get them cleaned this afternoon.”

I hesitated for a moment, then replied, “Mr. Zellen, I was hoping to go into the mountains today.”

He raised an eyebrow. “What for?”

“To gather some medicinal herbs. Grandpa’s oxygen concentrator needs replacing, and I want to save up enough money to buy him a new one.”

Mr. Zellen burst out laughing as though I had just told him the funniest joke in the world.

“You think Mr. Spencer Sr.’s medical supplies are your concern? The Spencer family took you in. That doesn’t mean you get to wander off whenever you please.”

I clenched the hem of my shirt.

“I’ll finish all the chores first. I promise I’ll be back before dark.”

He was about to curse me out again when Grandpa suddenly slammed his body against the bed rails twice.

Annoyed by the noise, Mr. Zellen turned around and walked out.

I worked until noon, finishing every chore assigned to me before finally slinging my wicker basket over my shoulder and leaving the residence.

The trail up the mountain was treacherous. It had rained the day before, leaving the rocks slick with moss.

With my mind fixed on a patch of Solomon’s seal I found earlier, I hurried along without watching my step. My foot slipped, and I tumbled down the steep slope.

A sharp rock sliced open my palm, and my ankle began to swell.

The pain made my vision swim. I lay there for a long while before finally pulling myself up by gripping a tree trunk.

The Solomon’s seal was just a little farther ahead. A whole patch of it grew there, beautiful and lush.

I could not bear the thought of going home empty-handed. After wrapping my bleeding palm with a strip of cloth, I painstakingly dug up the roots, one by one.

By the time I reached town with my basket full of herbs, dusk was settling in.

The owner of the herbal shop spent ages sorting through my haul before handing me $20.

I counted the money thrice, then tucked it into the little cloth pouch I kept close to my body.

$1,000 still felt impossibly far away, but $20 was nothing to sneeze at.

If I kept saving little by little, I would get there eventually.

My stomach growled. A nearby bakery had just lifted the lid off a fresh batch of meat pies. White clouds of steam carried the savory smell of meat straight to my nose.

“Excuse me, how much are the pies?”

“$2 each.”

I touched the little pouch at my waist, then finally took out just $1.

“In that case, could I have a loaf of plain bread?”

I squatted by the wall and took a few bites of the stale bread, washing it down with cold water.

Just then, a black luxury car pulled up outside the private club across the street. Mother stepped out wearing an elegant white suit.

Alistair was beside her, followed by several staff members carrying gift boxes.

I jumped in fright and quickly lowered my head.

However, Alistair had already spotted me.

“Zachary?”

He strode over, glancing at the mud caked on my trouser legs before looking at the dry loaf in my hand.

“Why are you squatting here, eating?”

Mother turned at the sound of his voice. Her face darkened.

“Zachary, what are you making a scene about this time?”

I hurried to my feet and explained, “Mother, I'm not making a scene. I came to sell some medicinal herbs.”

Alistair’s gaze fell on the bulging cloth pouch at my waist.

He reached out and yanked it away, scattering my money all over the ground.

“Selling medicinal herbs?”

“The flowers and plants at the old residence belong to the Spencer family. What gives you the right to sell them?”

I hurriedly crouched to gather the scattered bills.

“I dug these up in the mountains. They’re not from the residence. I just wanted to buy Grandpa a new oxygen concentrator.”

Alistair let out a soft sigh.

“Zachary, if you need money, you can just ask. Why use Grandpa as an excuse? The family gives you so much money for his care, and you’re still out here trying to make people feel sorry for you.

“If anyone sees this, they’ll think the Spencer family can’t even afford to support its own biological son.”

People nearby were already turning to stare.

Mother’s expression tightened with embarrassment. She raised her hand and knocked the medicinal herbs from my arms.

The roots scattered across the ground, and several rolled straight into a filthy gutter.

“Just look at yourself! What kind of state are you in? You’ve brought nothing but shame to the Spencer family! Starting today, you’re not allowed to leave the house without my permission.”

Ignoring the pain in my hand, I dropped to the ground and scrambled to salvage whatever herbs I could.

However, before I could gather them, one of the bodyguards kicked my wicker basket away.

Alistair stepped beside me and lowered his voice, “Zachary, you get all that money every month. How can you still be so greedy?”

I froze for a moment. He must have meant the $150. Well, $150 was indeed not a small amount.

However, Grandpa needed medication, and we needed incontinence pads. Neither came free.

I dared not talk back. All I could do was nod. “Got it.”

By the time I returned to the old residence, Mr. Zellen was already waiting at the entrance.

He slapped three banknotes onto the table, then snatched one of them back.

“You abandoned your post without permission, leaving Mr. Spencer Sr. unattended for hours. I’m cutting your nursing allowance this month. You’ll only get $100.”

The two remaining banknotes fluttered to the floor. I ignored the pain in my ankle, bent down, and picked them up.

One of the bills looked a little strange. I held it up to the light and examined it for a long time before the truth finally sank in.

It was fake.

Chapter 3

I held the counterfeit bill in my palm and stared at it for a long time.

My $100 was now $50.

$50 was barely enough to buy a single box of Grandpa’s medication.

However, I did not dare confront Mr. Zellen. He controlled all the food and supplies at the old residence. If I got on his bad side, Grandpa would be the one to suffer.

I returned to the bedroom and looked at the oxygen concentrator beside the bed, which kept making strange noises from time to time. For the first time, I took the initiative and messaged Mother.

Zachary: [Mom, Grandpa’s oxygen concentrator is broken. Could you lend me $1,000? I’ll pay you back ASAP by gathering medicinal herbs and weaving wicker baskets.]

I waited for hours, but no reply came. I sent the same message to Father. He responded quickly.

Father: [The family provides a monthly allowance for his care. Don’t bother me with trivial matters like this.]

I stared at his message, feeling a little ashamed.

Father managed such a huge company. He must be incredibly busy. To him, replacing a machine probably really was a trivial matter.

I opened Eliana’s profile. Her latest social media posts still showed she was overseas.

I messaged her asking for help, but even after nightfall, it remained unread.

In the end, I had no choice but to turn to Alistair.

Less than a minute later, he sent me a photo of the wild Phoenix Root.

Alistair: [The Phoenix Root I bought for Grandpa has already cleared customs. If you really care about Grandpa, Zachary, just focus on taking care of him. Stop using his illness to compete for attention from the family.]

I hurried to explain.

Zachary: [I’m not trying to compete for anyone’s attention. The machine really is broken.]

A red exclamation mark appeared on the screen.

He had blocked me.

I put down my phone, consumed by guilt.

I was just too useless. The Spencer family had entrusted me with Grandpa’s care, yet I could not even afford to buy him a new machine.

From that day on, Mr. Zellen completely forbade me from leaving the house.

Two maids also lived in the house with us. However, once they realized I was not favored by the family, they gradually stopped treating me with any respect.

When I asked them to help turn Grandpa over in bed, they hid in the kitchen to watch videos on their phones.

When I asked them to change his bedsheets, they dumped the dirty water into the yard, nearly drowning the lettuce I just planted.

Mr. Zellen was even worse. He loaded the eggs and grain onto a truck and hauled them away, telling everyone that the household expenses were too high, and he needed to sell some things to cover the deficit.

I rushed to stand in front of the truck.

‘Those eggs are for Grandpa! He needs them to regain his strength!”

He shoved me aside.

“Have you really started thinking of yourself as the master of this house? These things belong to the Spencer family. Who are you to tell me what I can and can’t do?”

I fell into the mud, scraping the skin off my elbow.

Before climbing into the truck, Mr. Zellen turned back to warn me.

“Try telling on me, and I’ll say you’re the one who’s been stealing and selling things.”

After the truck drove away, I sat on the ground and stared at the empty chicken coop. That was when I noticed the willow grove along the yard wall.

My adoptive father had taught me how to weave wicker baskets when I was little.

One basket would not earn much money, but what about ten? A hundred?

That very night, I cut down two willow stalks and split them into thin strips.

During the day, I cared for Grandpa, tended the vegetables, and fed the chickens. At night, I sat beneath a dim lightbulb and wove baskets.

Whenever the wicker strips cut my fingers, I wrapped them in cloth and kept going.

Whenever I grew so sleepy I could barely keep my eyes open, I would splash cold water on my face.

The vegetable vendors in town soon noticed how sturdy my baskets were, and one after another, they began placing orders.

I bundled up the eggs, dried medicinal herbs, and finished baskets, then asked someone to take them to the market for me.

$10, then $50, then $100. Little by little, the money in my tin box began to add up.

…

Spring passed, and the tomatoes in the yard ripened to a bright red.

Summer passed, and when the fan in Grandpa’s room broke, I sat beside his bed and fanned him by hand through the entire night.

By the time the leaves began turning yellow, I finally tipped all the money out of the tin box.

I had finally saved up $1,000, cent by cent.

My hands trembled as I counted the money three times before I finally dared to ask the vegetable vendor to help me order a new oxygen concentrator.

On the day the machine was delivered, Mr. Zellen suddenly pushed open the door.

“Get yourself cleaned up. Mr. and Mrs. Spencer, Miss Eliana, and Master Alistair are coming to visit Mr. Spencer Sr. today.”

My heart leaped with joy. It had been so long since my family last visited Grandpa.

I hurried into the mountains to pick a basket of fresh wild vegetables, then caught one of the hens I raised myself.

I figured that once they arrived, I would butcher the chicken, simmer it into a hearty soup, and cook a whole tableful of hot dishes. Just thinking about it made the house feel a little livelier.

‘Grandpa, when the family sees how well I’ve been taking care of you, they’ll be happy, too. They will, won’t they?’

Chapter 4

The delivery workers had just carried the new oxygen concentrator into the yard when several black luxury cars pulled up outside the gate.

Eliana was the first to enter.

Behind her followed more than a dozen doctors in white coats, along with several people carrying imported medical equipment I could not even name.

Father nodded in satisfaction. “Your grandfather’s condition needs to be handled by professionals.”

Mother smiled as well. “Eliana had to turn down several important meetings just to bring these specialists here. She grew up by his side, after all. He’s always been in her thoughts.”

Eliana’s expression remained indifferent as she replied, “It’s only right.”

Alistair then carefully opened the rosewood box in his arms. Inside lay a wild Phoenix Root with all its tendrils intact, accompanied by a gold-plated nameplate.

“Grandpa, I bought this century-old wild Phoenix Root for you at an auction. $1 million is nothing. The most important thing is you getting better.”

Mother immediately took his hand.

“Alistair, you’re always so thoughtful. Unlike some people, who spend every day by Mr. Spencer Sr.’s side but have nothing to show for it.”

I stood by the doorway with a basket of wild vegetables in my arms, instinctively shrinking back.

However, Alistair acted as though he had only just noticed me. He smiled and beckoned me over.

“Zachary, don’t hide. We’ve all prepared something for Grandpa. What did you bring?”

I looked at the specialists Eliana had brought, then at the wild Phoenix Root worth millions. Suddenly, the wild vegetables in my arms seemed embarrassingly shabby.

Still, I spent nine months saving up for that oxygen concentrator. I set down my basket and pointed to the cardboard box beside the wall.

“The old machine broke, so I bought Grandpa a new oxygen concentrator.”

Alistair walked over, glanced at it, and raised his eyebrows in exaggerated surprise.

“Is it domestically made? I’ve seen this brand online. Doesn’t it cost only $1,000 or $2,000?”

The entire yard fell into silence.

Mother’s expression darkened. “Do you expect Grandpa to use a machine this cheap?”

I hurried to explain, “This one cost $1,000. The repairman said it’s good quality.”

“$1,000?”

Father looked as though he had just heard a ridiculous joke.

“Do you think the Spencer family is so hard up that we can’t spare $1,000?”

Mr. Zellen immediately stepped out from behind the crowd.

“Mr. and Mrs. Spencer, I’ve been meaning to report this to you. Master Zachary is incredibly stingy. He washes Mr. Spencer Sr.’s incontinence pads and reuses them, feeds him nothing but rotten vegetables from the yard, and won’t even hire a caregiver.”

I whipped my head toward him.

“That’s not true! The care pads are expensive, so I make them myself. And the vegetables were freshly picked this morning. They’re perfectly fresh.”

Mr. Zellen heaved a sigh. His eyes reddened as though he had been deeply wronged.

“Master Zachary, I know you don’t like me, but you can’t take out your frustrations on Mr. Spencer Sr.’s health. I’ve warned you time and time again not to cut corners when it comes to an elderly person’s care, but you never listen.”

Mother pointed at me furiously.

“Zachary, what exactly are you up to? Your grandfather used to dote on you more than anyone. Is this how you repay him?”

“I didn’t do anything!”

My eyes burned as I desperately tried to defend myself.

“I turn Grandpa over every day. He’s never developed a single bedsore. The vegetables are ones I grew myself, and I raised the chickens that laid the eggs. I even saved up and bought the machine with my own money!”

Alistair gently took Mother’s hand.

“Mother, please don’t be mad. Maybe Zachary just doesn’t like spending money. After all, he still has to support his adoptive father back in the mountains.”

I hurriedly shook my head.

“I don’t give my adoptive father any money. He can dig for medicinal herbs and work the fields himself.”

Alistair gave me a look of exaggerated concern, as though he was trying to protect me.

“Zachary, you don’t have to hide it. How you spend the money the family gives you is your business. But you can’t take all of Grandpa’s life-saving money and use it to support outsiders!”

Eliana’s expression turned completely cold when she heard that.

She walked over to the oxygen concentrator, glanced at the price printed on the box, then looked up and fixed her gaze on me.

“How much did you pay for this machine?”

“$1,000.”

“Whose money did you use?”

“The money I saved myself.”

As though barely suppressing her anger, she asked each word slowly and deliberately.

“The family allocates $100,000 a month for Mr. Spencer Sr.’s care. You’ve been here for nine months. That’s a total of $900,000. Tell me, where did all that money go?”

$900,000?

My mind went blank with a loud buzz.

It had taken me nine whole months just to save $1,000. I could not even begin to imagine what $900,000 would look like piled up in front of me.

Father slammed his palm against the table.

“Hand over your bank card!”

Mother’s chest heaved with rage.

“No wonder you always dress like some penniless beggar. So you’ve been deliberately playing the victim while secretly siphoning off the money!”

Alistair pleaded with red-rimmed eyes.

“Zachary, if you confess now, Father and Mother might still forgive you.”

Mr. Zellen pulled out his phone.

“Mr. Spencer, perhaps we should just call the police. This is far too much money to let him talk his way out of.”

Their accusations came one after another, leaving me utterly dazed.

$100,000 a month? $900,000 over nine months? What did any of that have to do with me?

With trembling hands, I fumbled for my old phone in my trouser pocket.

The screen had been cracked for ages. It took several taps before it finally lit up. I opened my banking history and scrolled backward, checking the transactions one by one.

For nine months, every single deposit had been $150 except for one month, when I had received only $50.

I held out my phone to Eliana. Eliana took it with a grim expression.

Father, Mother, and Alistair crowded around her to look.

The yard fell so quiet that the only sound was the low hum of the old oxygen concentrator in Grandpa’s room.

I stared at them, completely bewildered.

“I haven’t even seen a whiff of that money! I’ve only ever received $150 a month!”