Chapter 60: Eager to Recover Losses

This story is entirely fictional.

He scratched his scalp, pondering how he could add another hundred thousand to his balance. He thought of Xiao Jin, who had given him his betting account.

Watching the online updates, he pulled out his phone and called Xiao Jin. “Officer Xiao, this is Zhao Ming from the TV station. Please increase the limit on the betting account you gave me by another hundred thousand. I’ve already used up the initial ten thousand. The first wave of bets was positive five thousand, but now the second wave is getting risky, and I need more funds to hedge my losses.”

Xiao Jin had just enjoyed the fruits of the first round of matches and shouted, “Weren’t you supposed to be out for some recuperation? Why not enjoy your trip? It’s so late, and you’re still betting?”

“Yes, yes, I urgently need the funds. Please make it happen, thank you!” Zhao Ming’s tone betrayed his impatience.

Xiao Jin quickly accessed his user management and checked Zhao Ming’s recent betting records. Seeing a negative nine thousand, he exclaimed, “Damn, nearly ten thousand in losses again. My god, this really does give me headaches.”

He promptly topped up Zhao Ming’s account with another hundred thousand and called him back.

Zhao Ming waited a long time before Xiao Jin’s call finally came through. He answered quickly, only to hear Xiao Jin’s booming voice: “Heard your account is negative again—almost ten thousand lost. You need to be careful, don’t throw money at every match out of desperation. That’s not the way. Be like me: pick one match a week, stay content when you win, sit back and watch the live broadcast. Don’t send back the money you haven’t even pocketed yet, understand?” Xiao Jin tried hard to persuade him.

But at this moment, Zhao Ming’s anxiety was so intense that he couldn’t hear reason. All he knew was that he had to plunge into the fray and fight for that last victory.

Time ticked away relentlessly, and the matches gradually neared their end. He watched as outcomes were decided, checked the overall results, and felt the late-night bets were far worse than those in the first half. The losses unsettled him.

Finally, when all the matches were over, he checked the betting site again and his heart jolted; the sudden blow left him pale as if struck by misfortune. Ninety minutes earlier, his account had shown only a nine-thousand deficit, but after the fierce battle of the second half, not only had he failed to meet his expectations, the deficit had increased by another thirteen thousand. He slammed the mouse onto the table, grabbed his coat and room card, settled his bill at the bar, and clutched the returned cash in his hand without even counting it as he hurried outside to hail a taxi.

Stepping outdoors, he gazed up at the sky. The street was almost deserted. The rain-soaked morning had cleared, but the moon hid behind tall trees and the river stretched into the dawn.

A chilly wind brushed his gaunt cheeks. He rubbed his face hard with his hands, his mind numb and blank. In his haste, he flagged down a cab and returned to his hotel.

Entering his room, his arrival woke his colleagues.

Drowsy, a colleague saw Zhao Ming preparing for bed, then suddenly watched him pat all his pockets, as if realizing something was missing. Concerned, his colleague asked, “Did you lose something?”

“I think my wallet’s gone,” Zhao Ming replied.

“Where did you go tonight? Try to remember, see where you might have left it. We’ll help you look.”

He seemed to recall something but didn’t answer, rushing out of the room, down the hotel, and stopping a taxi at the entrance.

He returned to the internet café where he’d battled all night, hurried to his seat, lifted the sofa cover of the chair, and thankfully found his wallet on the floor.

Picking it up, he felt immense relief. His ID card and the thousand yuan pocket money from Du Juan were inside, and he would rely on this thousand for the rest of the trip.

He put the wallet in his jacket pocket, buttoned it securely, checked for any issues, then returned to the hotel.

When he came back, his group was preparing to go for breakfast, someone called his name, but he didn’t hear them at all. At that moment, Zhao Ming was still immersed in the scenes from last night’s betting, oblivious to everything—whether he should eat breakfast, where to go afterwards—none of it concerned him. All he could think about was what matches lay ahead to bet on. When he realized there was a morning NM football league match, his spirits soared as if injected with adrenaline, eager for time to pass quickly so he could bet again.

He left the internet café, looked up at the sky. In the northern city, the streets were nearly deserted. The morning after rain was light and breezy, the chilly wind occasionally swept his gaunt cheeks. He rubbed his face forcefully, his mind numb and blank, hurriedly flagged a taxi, and returned to his hotel.

His arrival woke his colleagues again.

Half asleep, a colleague saw Zhao Ming undressing for bed, then watched him pat his pockets, as if realizing something was missing. Concerned, his colleague asked, “Did you lose something?”

“I think my wallet’s gone,” Zhao Ming replied.

“Where did you go tonight? Try to remember, see where you might have left it. That way, we can help you look.”

He seemed to recall something, didn’t answer, rushed out, down the hotel, hailed a taxi at the entrance.

He returned to the internet café, hurried to his seat, lifted the sofa cover, thankfully found his wallet on the floor.

Picking it up, he felt a weight lift from his heart. His ID and the thousand yuan from Du Juan were inside. Losing his ID would have caused endless trouble, and for this trip, that thousand was his only means.

He tucked the wallet into his jacket pocket, buttoned it securely, checked for any issues, and headed back to the hotel.

When he returned, his group was getting ready for breakfast, someone called his name, but he didn’t hear. Zhao Ming was still wrapped up in last night’s betting, unaware of the time or what he should be doing—breakfast, where to go next—none of it mattered.

All he could think about was whether there would be more matches to bet on. When he remembered the morning NM football league match between the Hippies and the Duelists, he felt thrilled, as if injected with stimulants, longing for time to hurry forward so he could place another bet.

The travel agency bus pulled up at the hotel entrance, everyone packed their luggage and boarded. Today, accommodation would be closer to the sea port.

As the bus drove through Weihai, he paid no attention to the scenery of this idyllic coastal city. For him, now, there was nothing but football.

The bus arrived at Liugong Island, located in Weihai Bay at the easternmost tip of Shandong Peninsula. The tour guide introduced the rich and unique cultural landscape: the millennia-old relics of the Warring States, the beautiful legends of Liu Gong and Liu Mu from the Han dynasty, the Qing-era Beiyang Navy headquarters, Naval Academy, ancient artillery batteries, and numerous British leasehold OR-style buildings. This place, known as “the eastern bulwark” and “the unsinkable battleship,” was a sacred site where he had attended patriotic education more than once as an officer.

He stood, lost in thought, unmoving. The tour guide asked, “Director Chi, aren’t you going up to see Liugong Island?”

“I visited this island more than a decade ago. Today I’m feeling unwell; I won’t go ashore. I’ll find somewhere nearby to rest and wait here by the bus for your return,” Zhao Ming replied.

“Be sure to stay safe and be ready to board on time. Today’s hotel is at the sea port, and it’s dozens of kilometers from here,” the driver reminded him.

“Don’t worry, I won’t delay the group’s schedule,” Zhao Ming watched the group head up the pier.

After the others left, he quickly found a nearby internet café and booked a private room to avoid disturbance.

He opened the betting site, recalling last night’s fierce losses, feeling a chill of dread. He didn’t want to look at the results or the negative balance—nearly forty thousand yuan.

Forty thousand—an astronomical figure for him. His situation was dire. He knew to turn things around, he’d have to place a big bet.

Zhao Ming remembered the morning NM Duel Cup match, perhaps the best chance to recoup his losses.

The Duelists from Country A and the Hippies from Country M were playing the final in a neutral country. Both were NM league powerhouses; with the match in a neutral venue, MC offered a draw handicap. The odds were 0.9 for the Duelists and fluctuating around 1.02 for the Hippies. The over-under was set at two goals—suggesting either team could win.

Ordinarily, Zhao Ming feared betting on teams with high odds. Whenever he saw high odds, he found it hard to overcome his psychological barriers, and so always avoided the high side. But today, having lost so much already, he realized this very fear might be the obstacle to his comeback. So, he resolved to defy his usual pattern and bet on the Hippies.

(Continued)