Chapter 1: Age 26, Buying a Lottery Ticket in Full, Winning 30 Million…
Chapter 1
Summer in Suiyi was always exceptionally long. By late September, the heat remained thick and stifling, much like the groups of reckless teenagers during the back-to-school season—relying on the lingering power of midsummer to charge forward blindly, unruly and defiant.
Jin Zhao left home early. By the time she arrived, the lottery center had just opened for business. The moment she pushed open the door, a blast of cold air hit her face. She glanced at her reflection in the glass door: loose long sleeves and pants, a mask, sunglasses, a wide-brimmed sun hat, and a color-coordinated canvas bag worth ten yuan slung over her shoulder.
"Hello."
The lottery center staff greeted her lukewarmly. As they set down their breakfast cup, the metal spoon clinked against the ceramic.
"Hello, I’m here to redeem a prize," Jin Zhao approached, taking out her ID and the winning ticket. "I have an appointment."
The staff member realized who she was and let out an "Ah." "You’re Ms. Jin Zhao, the one who won 30 million, right?"
Jin Zhao: "Yes."
It was her, Jin Zhao.
26 years old, relying on no one, buying a lottery ticket in full, and winning 30 million.
The staff member called over the supervisor. Together, they verified her ticket info and ID. Following their guidance, Jin Zhao stood beneath the security camera.
"Please write your ID number and bank account number on the back of the ticket."
Jin Zhao took the black sign pen and asked, "Can I deposit it into four different bank cards?"
The staff member froze. "Is there a problem?"
"No," Jin Zhao said. Before coming, she had looked up "strategies" online. "The internet says that 'twisted' people need Guiding RMB, avoidant people need Proactive RMB, people starved for love need Attachment RMB, and short-tempered people need Pleasing RMB."
Jin Zhao fished four bank cards from the "Big Four" banks out of her canvas bag and lined them up on the desk. Her fair fingers tapped each cool card. "So, I want them all: Guiding, Proactive, Attachment, and Pleasing."
The staff member stared at her, dumbfounded.
Three seconds later, with professional grace, they nodded. "Very well. 30 million taxed at 20% leaves 24 million. Deposited into four cards, that’s 6 million per card. Please confirm that’s correct and write the account numbers on the back."
"Okay, thank you."
Jin Zhao lowered her head and neatly wrote down the account numbers for her Guiding, Proactive, Attachment, and Pleasing funds.
As she carefully double-checked the numbers, she heard the staff member whisper to the supervisor, "Winning 6 million only happens in long-form dramas. In a 'short-form' digital drama, it would be at least 60 billion."
The supervisor replied, "True. The inflation over there is crazy."
Long dramas? Short dramas?
Jin Zhao’s heart skipped a beat. Just as she was about to turn and ask, an urgent voice rang in her ear—
"Wake up!"
"Hurry, wake up!"
Jin Zhao opened her eyes groggily, her vision slowly coming into focus.
The driver, wearing a short-sleeved shirt and black-rimmed glasses, had one hand on the steering wheel and the other on the passenger seat, turning to call her: "Little girl, stop sleeping. We’ve arrived."
Jin Zhao had been so deep in her sleep that she remained dazed, huddled in the backseat without moving. Her gaze drifted past the driver and through the windshield.
Ahead was a straight asphalt road lined with lush plane trees. The early morning sun filtered through the leaves, casting bits of golden light on the road that swayed with the wind—looking exactly like the shimmering 30 million yuan that had been calling to her in her dream.
That was a great dream. Let’s not do it again.
The ride-share car hummed as it drove away. Jin Zhao stood in place, looking at the plaque next to the school gate that read "Suiyi Normal University." Her heart felt empty and melancholic.
She was 26. She started preschool at age 2, spent 24 years studying hard, spent her entire net worth, and finally turned herself into what society considers a "respectable person"—a university teacher. She thought that after the "sea of learning" she would finally reach the shore, only to look up and realize:
Gosh, no one told me that after finishing the 'hardship of studying,' I’d have to endure the 'hardship of being broke'!
She had started the job at the end of last semester. When her first salary text arrived, she glanced at it and mistook the four-digit number for a verification code. If it hadn't been followed by a notification for her housing fund deposit, she wouldn't have even realized it was her salary.
She had silently closed the app and tried to scroll through short videos to calm down, only to happen upon a video titled: "Respected but Poor Jobs."
The creator’s voice was full of passion, counting down from number ten. Finally, the "Liberal Arts University Teacher" beat out all competition to take the number one spot.
She put down her phone calmly, comforting herself. Times have changed; degrees have depreciated. Young teachers are bound to be poor. But it was fine. She would do her research, get her titles, get her raises, and when she got old, she’d have a decent pension.
The thought of retirement gave her hope.
Unfortunately, she’d been hearing a lot about "delayed retirement" lately, which added insult to her poverty and finally drove her to daydreaming.
Thinking of that 30 million, Jin Zhao felt embarrassed.
How did she have the nerve? Since childhood, she hadn't even won a pack of tissues in a lucky draw.
Some people are born as "children of destiny," with luck so good it's ridiculous. Others are born to be NPCs.
She was an NPC.
Luckily, the daydream didn't make her late for work. She arrived at the classroom five minutes early.
The first two periods today were College English for sophomores.
8:00 AM class, a general public course, and sophomore "old oil" (slackers)—put those keywords together and even a veteran teacher would look numb. But Jin Zhao was a "newbie." Though she was poor, she had endless enthusiasm and tried to move her students to achieve a "mutual connection."
She always put extra effort into interactions, using trending topics as introductions or designing interesting discussion points. Because of this, the "heads-up" rate in her class was quite high.
Today’s text was a short love story—simple vocabulary, basic grammar. For the introduction, she naturally handed the mic to the students to share their own love stories.
Speaking of love, the young men and women got excited. They had plenty of secret romances in high school; now that they could talk about it openly in class, everyone was eager. With a bit of encouragement from Jin Zhao, the "lovebirds" stood up one after another to shower the class with "dog food" (displays of affection).
One student, lacking the English vocabulary to express himself, suddenly said halfway through: "My English is not okay, can I speak Chinese?"
Jin Zhao didn't know whether to laugh or cry as she nodded.
Once the "Chinese" floodgate opened, the scene became lively. Students who were planning to nap a few minutes ago raised their hands. Those with partners talked about them; those without partners "exposed" others who did, dragging them up to speak.
Some laughed and cursed, some watched, and some fanned the flames.
Outside the window, the sky was blue and the sun was scorching. The usually "dead" 8:00 AM students were now buzzing with life, laughing uncontrollably.
Jin Zhao couldn't help but smile, teasing the "whistleblowers": "Are you guys enjoying this custom-ordered dog food?"
Unexpectedly, the boomerang hit her.
College students in their early twenties are at their most socially bold. Since she was only six years older than them, they didn't even call her "Teacher," but instead called her "Sister" (Jie).
One said warmly, "We’d rather eat your dog food!"
Jin Zhao was both annoyed and amused, joking, "Stop with the 'Sister.' You’re not a real estate agent, and I don't have money for a house."
But she couldn't dodge them.
Another chimed in, "Teacher, you listened to our love stories, now we want to hear yours!"
Jin Zhao had to confess honestly: "I have never been in a relationship."
"I don't believe it! Teacher, you’re so beautiful, you must have been a 'School Beauty' (Campus Belle) level in your student days. How could no one have pursued you?"
"Forget her student days! Just last week I saw someone post the teacher's photo on Xiaohongshu (Little Red Book), asking if she was the School Beauty of our university!"
"Yes, yes! I saw it too! Teacher, did you see it?"
Jin Zhao: "..."
Don't mention it. She hadn't seen it, but a teacher in the same department had seen it and forwarded it to her. She nearly died of embarrassment.
"I didn't see it," Jin Zhao denied with a straight face. "I was very well-behaved in my student days. I focused entirely on my studies with no distractions, which is why I’ve been single since birth."
The students let out a chorus of disappointed "Ahs," but one was persistent—
"What about a secret crush? Teacher, have you ever had a secret crush?"
The temperature today was 37°C. Despite the air conditioning humming in the classroom, the students were still hot and turned on the ceiling fans. The blades spun, and the wind blew across Jin Zhao’s open textbook.
It gently lifted the thin pages before letting them fall silently.
Jin Zhao’s heart grew quiet for a moment. She said honestly: "Yes."
The group of "disappointed geese" immediately perked up again, asking one after another—
"Who? A classmate?"
"To be liked by a beautiful teacher like you, I can't imagine how handsome the guy must be!"
"Why does it have to be a guy? Can't it be a girl?"
"Don't be a contrarian—"
Jin Zhao smiled naturally. "He was very handsome."
Public courses were combined classes; English was two classes together in a large lecture hall, so the teachers were equipped with microphones. Jin Zhao’s voice was soft and tranquil, and through the mic, it easily calmed the rowdy students.
But the young people's passion for gossip couldn't be suppressed—
"Then why didn't you confess?"
"Was it because he was a total scumbag (zha)?"
"Then forget it! No matter how handsome a scumbag is, he's not worth it!"
Getting a bit tired of standing, Jin Zhao leaned her hip lightly against the edge of the podium, a faint smile on her face. "He wasn't a scumbag. On the contrary, he was good—exceptionally good. Tall and handsome. Although he looked cool and had a sharp tongue—making you worry he’d poison himself if he licked his own lips—his heart was actually very warm and soft. Aside from being a bit goofy (shajiao) occasionally and having a low tolerance for alcohol, he didn't have many flaws. He even had incredible luck; he’s the luckiest person I’ve ever met."
"Wow!" A student suddenly whistled. "Teacher, we only said the word 'scumbag,' and you’ve already said so many words in his defense?"
Another laughed and added, "Your words still show you love him!"
Someone else repeated the question: "Then why didn't you confess?"
Outside the window, the cicadas chirped incessantly. The wind flipped the pages of her book again and again.
Jin Zhao’s almond-shaped eyes were clear. When she smiled, her aegyo-sal (eye bags) looked like a shallow crescent moon. "Because he was too good. We weren't from the same world."
In terms of dating, her students knew more than she did. Someone asked very insightfully: "Was it a class divide?"
Jin Zhao was surprised. She had only dared to say so much because it was all in the past, thinking they would never meet again and that these kids were two generations apart from him, so there would be no overlap. She hadn't expected her students to be such good guessers. She didn't dare say more; if she was exposed, she’d suffer "social death" on the spot.
She pressed down the wind-blown pages and joked to change the subject: "Looking back now, I actually regret it. Back then, I really should have confessed."
"Whoa!"
"That way, maybe his family would have given me a bank card and told me to leave him, taking the cold, hard cash with me." Jin Zhao sighed with mock regret. "Sigh, I brushed past a chance at instant wealth!"
The whole class erupted in laughter.
Meng Zhuxi had caused trouble again. Meng Yanxi came to the school today to clean up the mess for her.
The Third Teaching Building and the Academy of Fine Arts were two connected buildings: Building A was the Third Teaching Building, and Building B was the Art Academy, linked by a corridor. The sun was too bright today, so after parking, Meng Yanxi entered the nearest building, Building A, and took the elevator to the fourth floor.
Walking from the Third Teaching Building toward the Art Academy, he heard the enthusiastic voices of teachers along the way, while the students below sounded as dull as robots who didn't even need to breathe—a literal embodiment of the phrase "vibrant elderly people, lifeless college students."
However, one classroom was exceptionally lively. He could hear laughter from a distance. That vigorous passion, matching the screaming cicadas outside, momentarily made Meng Yanxi feel as if he had returned to his most studious high school days.
Meng Yanxi walked nonchalantly down the empty corridor. Amidst the noise, a quiet, sweet female voice suddenly drifted out.
Through the microphone, with a slight static hum, it was clear and pure.
Like a jade stone dropped into a calm lake—a "thump," followed by a splash of clear spring water—the whole world felt filled with a lucid surprise.
Meng Yanxi stopped in his tracks.
Tidak ada komentar:
Posting Komentar