Chapter 68: A Trap Within a Trap

This story is purely a work of fiction.

Water bottles soared from the stands onto the field like falling snow, leaving the pitch in utter disarray. The head coach sat there, frozen, refusing to leave until, urged on by security, he finally stood and slowly walked away from his seat.

He knew exactly what he was doing, but to the uninitiated, it would be difficult to comprehend his actions as head coach. His remarks for the post-match press conference and his resignation letter were already formulated in his mind. Even before the final whistle, Hao Benshan and several star players from H City had left the stadium in a huff.

He could not recall how he spent the remainder of the match, nor what transpired on the pitch; the 1-1 scoreline persisted until the end. He offered no words to his players and walked straight to the press conference venue.

That evening, the Dahe TV sports news broadcast the resignation of the Dahe head coach and delivered a report on the dreary match. The Dahe Steel Horn Cheerleading Squad, who had come in high spirits, left in bitter disappointment.

As the match ended, a torrential rain poured down, drenching the Dahe fans until they looked like drowned rats, each with a dejected expression. On their way home, the Steel Horn Cheerleading Squad sat in silence on their bus, not a single cheer to be heard. It felt as if they no longer had the face to claim they were Dahe fans in public. Such an outcome was destined to shatter the hearts of the entire squad.

Chi Zhaoming’s bet had failed once again. He lay on his hotel bed as if paralyzed, unwilling to move another inch.

His mood was stifled beyond compare, his heart wracked with torment, his appetite greatly diminished. Everything tasted insipid, and only the thought of betting could rouse him to feign some semblance of energy.

Lying on the bed, he stared blankly at the ceiling. In just a few short days, his fantasies had been shattered time and again, leaving him at a loss. The thought that he would spend the night adrift on the vast sea filled him with unease. He feared the possibility of the ship sinking in the middle of the ocean during the night, worried that the signal at sea would be too weak to place bets, and dreaded being cast into the abyss once more by some inexplicable match result.

His mind was a flurry of anxious thoughts, each wave of inexplicable sorrow following the next. He tried to relax, breathing in deeply, over and over, then turned to gaze out the hotel window.

He had been at the hotel for several hours, but had not yet taken the time to enjoy the ocean view. Now, looking out at the nearby bay, he saw white sails speckling the water—sailboat enthusiasts tacking and turning, maneuvering their vessels with the wind.

~~~~~~

Gao Yating was meeting with Ma Shengwei in his office. Although she had not attended the Dahe match in person, she had kept a close eye on the proceedings. When she saw that Dahe had achieved the expected result in the betting market as planned by her company, a radiant smile broke across her face.

In Ma Shengwei’s office, she and her associates held a secret meeting. Gao Yating offered Ma Shengwei exceptionally generous terms: a special rapid-response security unit would be established for the stadium, reporting directly to her at HZ Entertainment and operating strictly under her instructions.

The meeting concluded successfully, and Gao Yating and her party left Ma Shengwei’s office in high spirits.

~~~~~~

Fan Wei, upon returning to the club, thought back to the just-concluded match and recalled the words of Zhang Chi. “Let me tell you, I used to know a national team player from your club. He and our teacher were, by all accounts, close friends, and he’d often come to visit our teacher, talking about football betting. I’d frequently overhear them discussing insider information: who was going to win, who was set to lose. Back then, every tip he brought was one hundred percent accurate. But eventually, he stopped coming to our school, and I never saw him play for the club again.”

Fan Wei listened as Zhang Chi recounted stories about the club’s former national player.

“Did you ever have personal contact with him? I haven’t seen him for ages either. Last month, he went out drinking with friends, and because of drunk driving, got into an accident on the outskirts of town. I’m afraid he’ll never play again—he was sent abroad for surgery, but from what our team doctor says, his chances are slim. The perpetrator was another of our club’s forwards, but the club hasn’t made anything public or allowed anyone to comment on the incident,” Fan Wei shared details that Zhang Chi had not known.

“I never had direct contact with him, but my homeroom teacher is very close to him. As the class representative for literature, I’ve always had a good relationship with my teacher, who looked out for me. Whenever there was inside news, he’d be sure to pass it on. He was into football betting, too. At first, we placed bets by phone—your club’s striker would help with the reporting: which team to bet on and for how much. I simply followed my teacher’s lead. When we won, he’d hand over my share the next day, and nearly every time we won—money was practically raining into my hands. Later, my teacher got me an online betting account through that striker, making it much easier. Payment could be delayed, settled weekly or monthly.”

“You do realize illegal betting is against the law, don’t you? You’re just a student—where would you get the money for football bets? Once you get hooked on this, there’s no turning back. All this talk of winning is a trap; sooner or later, you’re bound to lose, my friend,” Fan Wei warned Zhang Chi to stay away from underground gambling.

“Please, you work in football, and you’re still so naive! No wonder you can’t even make the bench at your club. Well, now I understand why,” Zhang Chi scoffed at Fan Wei’s earnestness.

Fan Wei could not persuade him. He sensed that Zhang Chi was sliding ever deeper into the abyss, unable to extricate himself.

“Stop preaching to me about avoiding football betting. Just answer me this: are we still friends? Will you help me or not? That’s all I want to hear—yes or no?”

“How can I help? I’m telling you to get out of football betting—that’s how I’m trying to help you. Don’t you understand I’m doing this for your own good?” Fan Wei pleaded.

“My brother, isn’t it a bit late to tell me to quit now? Not long ago, my mother fell gravely ill. We desperately needed money for her surgery, but without cash, the hospital wouldn’t operate—time was of the essence. With nowhere else to turn, my teacher brought me into betting, and the winnings saved my mother’s life. I’m grateful for that money, however it was earned,” Zhang Chi replied with a trace of gratitude for the method that had saved a life.

“Now that it’s all over, why not quit while you’re ahead?” Fan Wei urged him.

“It saved her life, yes, but later, that player never came back to our school. Without his inside tips, my teacher lost every single bet—winning became impossible, and sometimes we lost everything in just a few matches. After a few months, my teacher lost everything, and I, too, was dragged down. Now I’ve borrowed nearly thirty thousand at exorbitant interest. Just the monthly interest is six thousand—I’m under tremendous pressure. How can I stop now? I have no choice, my friend,” Zhang Chi said, desperation in his voice.

“You have to stop—there’s no other way. Do you want me to just watch as you sink deeper?” Fan Wei pleaded.

“If you don’t want to see me fall, then please, I beg you, help me,” Zhang Chi implored.

“How? I’m struggling myself! What could I possibly do to help?” Fan Wei cried out.

“You can help by paying more attention at your club, and even at other clubs—gather any inside information you can. Nowadays, clubs are all in on this. Without some under-the-table earnings, it’s hard to get by. Everyone turns a blind eye, colluding with bookmakers—it’s fast, easy money. Betting is the most straightforward way. Think about it: betting on yourself to win isn’t easy, but when you play a team desperate for points to avoid relegation, losing can get the job done. You’re not getting playing time anyway; if you can’t make money on the pitch, this is the best shortcut. So your main job is to collect information—find out if there are fixed matches or if the club is involved in betting. With that kind of information, I could easily win back my losses—thirty thousand, three hundred thousand, it doesn’t matter. If that national team player could get the info, I’m sure you can too,” Zhang Chi insisted, refusing to listen to reason.

Facing his childhood friend, Fan Wei could find no further words to dissuade him. He felt helpless, but could not bring himself to get angry. He understood Zhang Chi’s predicament intimately, yet had no way to help.

Now, with Zhang Chi owing more than thirty thousand in high-interest loans, failing to repay would mean the debt would snowball uncontrollably.

Fan Wei’s mind raced—what to do, what to do?

His head swirled with unanswered questions... (To be continued)