Chapter 081: The Secret Phone

This story is entirely fictional.

All members of the Grand River Club stood there, motionless, listening to Hao Benshan’s admonition.

Hao Benshan was spitting with rage, gesticulating wildly, his face flushed crimson.

“Half a century of striving, and we’ve only appeared once in the last World Cup. That appearance was the first and only time in the history of Chinese football. I don’t even know when the next time will be—what year, what month? You are all numb to this suffering, not even a hint of shame? Does it not make your faces burn?” The more Hao Benshan spoke, the more agitated he became.

He jumped from the bench onto the floor. “Now, I solemnly announce: Li Xun is relieved of his duties as club general manager. The new general manager will be decided at the next board meeting. Player Nian Liang is suspended indefinitely. I hope everyone takes this as a warning and contributes to the development of Grand River Club. Dismissed!” With that, Hao Benshan stormed out, climbing into his Lincoln and driving away in a fury.

After he left, the staff all breathed a sigh of relief.

They whispered amongst themselves on the field. Seeing this, the general manager quickly stepped forward to address them. “Thank you all for your support during my tenure. Today’s outcome was expected. I will be leaving the club, and it pains me to part with you. The chairman pursues his lofty ideals for football, and all we can do is admire him. Beyond that, we wish to change the world, but in the current climate, such ambitions may require generations, centuries of effort. Take care, everyone.” With those weary words, he departed.

Hao Benshan returned home, opened the door, and flung his briefcase onto the living room sofa. His anger had not abated; it still surged, pounding in his head.

His assistant poured him a glass of cold water. Hao Benshan took it and gulped it down.

He sat on the sofa, cursing the players for their performance on the pitch. He had once believed that money alone would allow him to play football, but he had never imagined that the sport was so complex, full of hidden depths. The team he invested so heavily in did not obey him.

His reputation was in tatters, and he couldn’t even share his humiliation with the outside world. He felt as if he had swallowed bitterness in silence.

He could not endure such days. He had invested his hard-earned money out of love for Chinese football, dreaming that one day the national team would again break out of Asia and stride onto the world stage.

Now, his dream seemed childish and utterly laughable. “These players are nothing but ingrates, eating and drinking at my expense, yet still betraying me. They aren’t half as loyal as my dog. Don’t you agree?” Hao Benshan turned to his assistant.

“Absolutely, Chairman, you’re absolutely right. I told you long ago—football is not your field, why wade into these muddy waters? But you wouldn’t listen. After just two games with the new team, you already feel like giving up. I think we should leave this place as soon as possible. Otherwise, those scoundrels will keep scheming for their own gain, while you stand there shouting like a fool.”

~~~~~~

The next day, when Chi Zhaoming returned home from work, he was utterly exhausted. Even so, he forced himself to pretend nothing had happened, hurriedly preparing dinner.

Chi Zhaoming drove, while Du Juan sat in the passenger seat, lowering the visor to check her makeup. She always touched up her makeup in the afternoons, and seeing everything was in order, she closed the mirror.

As the car neared the school, a phone rang.

Chi Zhaoming’s phone was on the center console, but the sound came from the pocket of his jacket. He realized trouble was brewing: Du Juan didn’t know about this phone, which he usually left at the office. Today, he’d accidentally brought it home and forgotten to turn it off.

“You have another phone?” Du Juan’s face was stern, surprised.

“Yes, it’s the office phone. Xiaobian left it with me and forgot to take it back.” Sweat began to bead on Chi Zhaoming’s forehead.

Seeing his sweaty brow, Du Juan knew he was lying.

“The phone keeps ringing—aren’t you going to see who’s calling? What if it’s something important?” Du Juan prompted him to answer.

“It’s nothing. What business could there be after work? It doesn’t matter if I don’t answer.” Chi Zhaoming replied.

But the phone kept ringing, even as he parked at the school gate. The ringtone seemed endless; he cursed its timing inwardly.

After parking, the ringing persisted. Chi Zhaoming had no choice but to take out the phone.

Du Juan immediately recognized it—it was the old Nokia model her husband used to have. She fired off, “Isn’t this your old phone? And you say it’s the office phone? Is there some secret you’re hiding?”

She snatched the phone from him, answered the call, and turned on the speaker.

A voice came through: “Are you Mr. Chi Zhaoming?”

“Yes, I am,” he replied.

“I’m a customer service representative from the Industrial and Commercial Bank. You have a payment due, totaling ten thousand yuan. Please make your payment promptly; overdue payment will affect your card use and credit history,” the speaker continued.

Du Juan wanted to ask questions, but Chi Zhaoming took the phone back. “Okay, I understand,” he said, and hung up.

“I want to know what’s going on. Why did you hang up?” Du Juan was angry.

“If you have questions, ask me. I don’t want you discussing things over the phone. Paying for purchases is normal,” Chi Zhaoming insisted.

“First, I didn’t know you had a phone number I didn’t know about, nor what you use it for. Just now, the bank said you spent ten thousand yuan—I want to know where that money went. Can’t I ask about the specifics?” Du Juan pressed.

“I never said you couldn’t ask. It’s just, you can’t clarify things over the phone. Isn’t it better to ask me directly? Why bother the bank staff? Am I not being reasonable?” Chi Zhaoming explained.

“Reasonable or not, I don’t know, because I have no idea where the ten thousand yuan went. If it was for something proper, I’d let it go. But if it was spent elsewhere, how can I think you’re being reasonable?” Du Juan was not about to let the matter drop.

“Yes, it was a work expense on the company card, nothing to do with me personally. I’ll pay it off when I get back to work. Don’t worry about it.” Chi Zhaoming suddenly remembered it was a company card expense—Du Juan shouldn’t have any more questions.

“If it’s a company expense, then just get reimbursed and pay it off. Why wait for the bank to call? I really don’t understand how you handle things,” Du Juan was displeased, unconvinced by his explanation.

The reason Du Juan doubted him was that Chi Zhaoming’s actions had begun to arouse suspicion. Whenever he came home, his phone went silent, and even text alerts were rarely heard. Moreover, he no longer answered his phone with the ease and naturalness he once did. She couldn’t recall when these changes began.

Thinking about it, Du Juan felt uneasy. “Now I know why your phone goes silent the moment you come home—it turns out you have another phone I didn’t know about. I finally understand.” She seemed suddenly enlightened.

Chi Zhaoming, hearing her words, broke out in a cold sweat. “It’s over; looks like things are about to be exposed. If Du Juan checks at the bank, she’ll see exactly how many cards I have and every transaction.”

“Tell me, what’s the story behind that ten thousand yuan?” Du Juan began to interrogate him.

Chi Zhaoming wiped the sweat from his forehead with his arm and looked at her, feeling a massive conflict about to erupt.

Should he admit he gambled and lost, or say it was just a purchase? He hesitated, but knew it was dangerous to stall—hesitation would only deepen her suspicions.

He resolved to conceal the truth. Otherwise, the whole household would be turned upside down. “It really was a work expense of ten thousand yuan. I’m not lying. If you don’t believe me, check my records at the bank. It was spent on a souvenir for a client.”

“Then tell me, what kind of souvenir?” Du Juan pressed.

This question reminded Chi Zhaoming: when he claimed it was for a client, he hadn’t considered that the cash withdrawal had been made at a leather goods shop’s POS. He simply told her it was a handbag for the client.

Du Juan’s heart sank—could it have been for some woman outside? But remembering her husband’s usual care and affection, his lack of social engagements, and his habit of coming straight home after work, she doubted it. It couldn’t be, could it? The doubts swirled in her mind.

Yet the phone issue forced her to reconsider. Since he had a phone she didn’t know about, who could say if there was another woman? She began to scroll through the phone’s contact list.