老林头 Fifth Street lying in the hospital bed, breathing hoarsely, face pale as if paper, eyes tightly shut, obviously not responding. His son, Lin Feng, stood beside the bed, rubbing his hands together, his face rosy, and his heart was vigorously calculating the next step.

"In the blink of an eye, it's been half a month since Dad fell ill. The village doctor said it was a 'stroke', paralyzed and unable to speak. The hospital expenses have already spent tens of thousands of yuan, and the situation is getting more and more desperate. If I don't find a way now, I really don't know what to do." Lin Feng sighed secretly, looking at the monitoring data on the bedside, heart full of anxiety.

Just as he was about to walk out of the ward to find a way to raise money, the phone rang suddenly. Lin Feng took a look at the phone, his face showed a hint of surprise, and quickly answered the phone. "Hello, Mr. Zhang?"

"Lin Feng, where are you now?" The sound of a man came from the phone, with a hint of urgency.