Chapter 99: The Fire on the Eyebrows

This story is purely fictional.

He dreaded the thought—could it be that the antique dealer was right? Was that pixiu truly imbued with a spirit? During the day, he had touched that mystical pixiu, hoping to harness its legendary wealth-attracting power, to bring himself some fortune. Little did he know it would lead to his downfall. Was it that man who dragged him into this terrifying galaxy world? He pleaded silently for forgiveness for his recklessness and mistakes.

“Didn’t you hear our leader telling you to get lost already?” another henchman barked, using intimidation.

“I’m leaving right now, I swear.” As he spoke, he moved backward slowly, retracing his steps from the riverbed to where he had first entered the water. Upon returning, he noticed the sky was dark and heavy with clouds, and a torrential downpour began. The rain was so fierce he could barely keep his eyes open. Soon after the deluge ceased, the galaxy before him was once again a roiling sea of waves.

He stood frozen, staring at the flowing river of stars, then down at the net at his feet—his carp had vanished. He cried out, “My fish! My fish!”

Cuckoo heard Zhaoming murmuring in his sleep, calling out “Fish, fish, fish.” She struck his head sharply, and he stirred awake.

“Fish? You always dream such unrealistic things. I wonder if there’s something wrong with your mind. I should take you to the hospital one day,” Cuckoo said, watching him come to.

“You’re talking nonsense. Dreaming is perfectly normal. Just because you say it’s illness doesn’t mean it is. I feel fine—there’s no illness here,” Zhaoming replied.

“Let’s hope not. Mental illness is frightening; you must be careful and stop worrying about nonsense,” she warned.

Gazing at the betting page displaying the matchup between Sky Galaxy and Pandora Tsunami, Zhaoming struggled to decide where to place his wager, haunted by the strange dream from the night before.

He sat, pondering the game. In the dream, the river dried up, revealing fish in the riverbed—a symbol of wealth—but at the end, the fish disappeared. Did this mean Sky Galaxy would lose? The warning from the KLL warrior seemed like a hint: Pandora Tsunami was invincible, so they should win. He resolved to bet on Pandora Tsunami. Yet the imagery of the river drying and then flooding again, with the fish disappearing, perplexed him. Could it mean an early loss followed by a comeback? The carp symbolized wealth, but its disappearance hinted at loss.

Zhaoming was utterly confused by the dream and unsure which side to bet on.

He scrutinized the odds for Sky Galaxy and Pandora Tsunami, hoping for any shifts before the match started. Distracted by his colleagues’ busyness, he barely noticed the director watching him from behind several times.

Near the end of the workday, Braids approached him. “Director, you’ve been so focused—are you busy with something? The director came up behind you several times, and you never noticed. Your concentration must be intense. If you need help, just say the word. I’ll be your right hand.”

“Thank you for your concern. You’ve worked hard, Braids,” Zhaoming said gratefully, thinking, “If it weren’t for Braids’ diligence, everything would be a mess.”

When no one was around, he reopened the betting page and placed his stake on Pandora Tsunami, following his interpretation of the dream.

Once the match began, he sat glued to his computer, refreshing the live scores.

As the game neared its end, Zhaoming’s mood plummeted. Sky Galaxy had crushed their opponent 5-0. The supposedly invincible Pandora Tsunami was utterly defeated—a 0-5 humiliation. His dream seemed a cruel joke.

He racked his brain, unable to understand. The dream was supposed to bring fortune. Invincible Pandora Tsunami? Yet Sky Galaxy scored five goals—unprecedented in the team’s history. He regretted overcomplicating things. The river drying and then flooding again symbolized the team’s indomitable spirit. The more he thought, the more absurd his earlier reasoning seemed.

He called Xiaojin to ask about the two recent matches in the M Country professional league. After hearing Zhaoming’s betting story, Xiaojin laughed heartily.

“What’s so funny? Is my story that ridiculous?” Zhaoming asked, puzzled.

“Don’t you get it? The dream was telling you the opposite of what you thought. The fish disappearing means you actually gain; ‘invincible’ means vulnerable. The dream’s message is always reversed. Think about it—the actual result was exactly that. You’re such a fool. How could I not laugh, Director?” Xiaojin teased over the phone.

Zhaoming saw some truth but remained unconvinced. “You’re just being a Monday-morning quarterback. You say that because you know the outcome now. Before the match, especially when choosing between two options, it’s natural to be confused, isn’t it?”

“Don’t be stubborn. You lost, I won. When it comes to dreams, any analysis can seem right, but don’t use them to guide your bets. It’ll give you decision paralysis, increasing the chance of errors by over ninety percent, studies show,” Xiaojin boasted like an expert.

Stunned by the outcomes of the two matches and Xiaojin’s bragging, Zhaoming felt utterly embarrassed. He knew mindset was crucial; with a good one, a person stays calm and composed.

Yet now, Zhaoming was desperate, grasping at straws, his usual calm shattered.

That dream hadn’t saved him from losing fifty thousand yuan but had instead added another ten-thousand-yuan debt on his betting page.

He sat in his office chair, dazed.

His week’s performance was a glaring negative. What was he to do? His mind raced ceaselessly. After Cuckoo discovered his credit card debts and he repaid them, he accompanied her to the bank to close all his accounts. He was at his wit’s end, his thoughts in turmoil.

When placing bets, he never considered how he’d face defeat.

Only when trapped did he realize how restless his own hands were—itching to act.

Betting is a moment’s impulse, but the ensuing pain can last. At that moment, he gave no thought, only panicking when the crisis hit.

There was only one day left before the overdue payment on his Industrial Bank card would be recorded as a default. He had never feared not repaying his debts before, but now the thought of a bad credit record terrified him.

He had only a handful of close friends who could lend money, but pride stopped him from asking. He refused to lose face until utterly desperate.

Holding a late-night newspaper’s advertising section, he searched for information he needed. Loan ads were everywhere, but to his surprise, one familiar classmate was running a loan business, and the business license was issued by an acquaintance.

Following the phone number in the ad, he closed his door and dialed.

“Is this Dada Loan Company?” Zhaoming asked nervously.

“Yes, this is Dada Loan Company. How can we assist you? We provide loans from twenty thousand to five hundred thousand yuan,” came a familiar voice.

Hearing that voice, Zhaoming felt as if he had found a savior. He recognized the caller as the son of a high school classmate, who had recently asked him about social security matters. The voice was unmistakable—a somewhat effeminate male tone, impossible to forget.

“Is your boss named Yan An? I’m Zhaoming Chi, a classmate from the TV station,” Zhaoming introduced himself.

“Oh, I know you! My mother recently came to you with social security questions. Yes, you’re the one. Are you looking for President Yan?” the voice replied.

“Yes. If he’s available, could you please have him take the call?” Zhaoming pressed his luck.

“Certainly. Please hold on a moment. President Yan is just outside,” the woman said.

Zhaoming heard a female voice calling, “President Yan, President Yan, your classmate is on the line.”

President Yan picked up the phone from his desk. “Hello, this is Yan An.”

“President Yan, this call is pure coincidence. I saw your company’s ad in the evening paper. Had you not asked me to help register your license, I might never have guessed you owned this company. Congratulations on your success and good fortune!” Zhaoming offered courteous praise.

“Thank you! When the company opened, I came to your TV station to invite you, but you weren’t there—you’d gone to Germany to cover the World Cup,” Yan replied.

“Oh yes, I often travel to cover leagues. Since you came to my workplace, why didn’t you call me?” Zhaoming asked.

“I figured since you weren’t in Dahe, calling wouldn’t help. So I didn’t bother. Saves you a red envelope, right? I’m thoughtful, aren’t I, Director Chi?” Yan joked.

(To be continued)