Chapter 070: Night Voyage on the Sea

This story is purely fictional.

Because of the wireless internet card, Chi Zhaoming was gripped by a deep sense of anxiety.

He could neither eat nor sleep, his mind constantly consumed by thoughts of betting. Without the wireless internet card, he felt like a soldier who had lost his weapon—how could he keep fighting? He thought, if he missed a good opportunity, it would only deepen his losses.

He was unwilling to let any betting opportunity slip by. But faced with this unexpected setback, he could only rack his brains for a solution.

After lunch, knowing that he would be taking a ship that evening, he decided the first thing to do was buy a new wireless card.

He went out alone, searching for a way to fix his broken antenna. The only option now was to buy a replacement.

He scoured the city, visiting countless China Mobile service centers, but everywhere he went, he was met with the same answer: “Out of stock.”

Just when he was about to give up hope, he spotted a small shop. Clinging to a last shred of optimism, he stepped inside and asked, “Do you sell wireless internet cards here?”

“We’re out of stock as well,” replied the shopkeeper.

Zhaoming felt another wave of bitter disappointment, a hint of sorrow on his face as he turned to leave.

Suddenly, the shopkeeper called out, “Sir, you’re not from around here, are you? Do you really need a wireless internet card that urgently?”

“Yes, I do, sir. I’m in desperate need. I have urgent matters to handle online. But you said you don’t have any. Do you know where I might find one?” Zhaoming’s eyes brimmed with hope.

“I can see you’re really anxious. I’ve always liked helping people. Just a few days ago, I bought a wireless card for a trip, but since I had to cancel my plans, I don’t need it anymore. I suppose you could call me a good Samaritan. Here, take it, use it for your emergency,” the shopkeeper said with a small smile.

“You really are a lifesaver! I’ve searched street after street, nearly every shop in the city, and found nothing. I never expected to meet a real good Samaritan. Thank you—thank you so much!” Zhaoming was genuinely overjoyed.

The shopkeeper handed him the still-sealed wireless card, along with the receipt. “Just pay me the amount on the receipt,” he said.

Zhaoming took out three hundred yuan and handed it to the shopkeeper, then added another hundred.

“Three hundred is enough. No need to give me the extra hundred. After all, I’m a good Samaritan!” the shopkeeper laughed heartily.

Seeing him laugh, Zhaoming laughed too. “Of course—a good Samaritan wouldn’t covet my extra money. That was thoughtless of me. My apologies!”

“It’s nothing, just a joke—don’t take it seriously!” The shopkeeper’s face was lively and animated, his gestures expressive, making Zhaoming feel happier than he had in days. While he’d been away from home, he hadn’t smiled so freely until now; his features finally relaxed.

Zhaoming packed the wireless card into his bag. Before leaving, he gave the shopkeeper his phone number. “If you ever travel to Dahe, be sure to give me a call.”

“Will do. Goodbye!” The shopkeeper bid him farewell with perfect courtesy.

Walking back, Zhaoming was in high spirits. For days, he’d been forced to use internet cafés without a card, but now with his “weapon” restored, he felt as if he’d gained precious time and a glimmer of hope. He knew tonight on the ship would most likely be another sleepless night. At that thought, he reached into his bag and touched his beloved wireless device.

Back at the hotel, he wasted no time installing the card. He wanted all his “weapons” ready and tested before boarding the ship, to be prepared for the battles ahead on the open sea.

He carefully followed the instructions, and after testing, the network speed met his expectations. Only then did he put away his laptop and card, fearing the antenna would be broken again and leave him defenseless.

Perhaps he was simply exhausted; he yawned, his eyes barely able to stay open. He wanted nothing more than to rest for a while.

But as he lay in bed, scenes from the South American match he’d bet on replayed endlessly before his eyes. That baffling goal left him deeply frustrated. He still believed that if not for the national treasure-level goalkeeper’s poor performance in overtime, he might have gained over ten thousand yuan. But instead, he’d lost yet again—the difference between winning and losing was like heaven and earth. Day after day, things had gone wrong, bringing only senseless losses. There was no joy, only anguish, and no one he could confide in. It was as if he’d lost his teeth and could only swallow the pain—silent and bitter.

Whenever he thought of his predicament, he felt utterly drained. Despite clinging to hope, he sensed this journey might well become his road to ruin.

He wondered if he should keep blindly plunging ahead. But then he thought of the astronomical debt—seventy thousand yuan—and realized there was no turning back. How could he ever explain such a shortfall to his family?

He dared not think further. He just wanted to lose himself in sleep, to numb his tormented nerves, if only for a little while before setting out. The pressure was suffocating.

But no matter how he tried to distract himself, all he saw were those negative numbers from his losses. The debt clung to him like a shadow. Now he was utterly penniless, and the harder he tried to escape poverty, the tighter its grip became—until there was nowhere left to run.

Distant mountain peaks rose and fell in the mist, their shifting forms like the entrance to a fairyland. Not far off, the pier where he would board the ship in the evening was bustling with people.

The crowd flowed ceaselessly along the dock.

All those moving figures, he thought, were probably struggling for their own livelihoods, every step resolute and strong. By contrast, Chi Zhaoming felt himself on a road of no return, and he could only sigh.

In the hotel corridor, the tour leader called out, “Everyone, please pack your luggage. We’ll leave for the ship to Haishi Bincheng in half an hour.”

Zhaoming hurried to pack his things; he was ready for departure.

In the waiting hall, he glanced at his watch—about an hour remained before boarding. He took out his laptop, opened the betting website, hoping to use the time to analyze the upcoming E-League match.

After much consideration, he focused on the Eel team’s derby. Based on past odds, whenever Wilshire set the odds against the Eels, it was a sign they would lose—a pattern he’d come to trust. He’d heard that Wilshire was the Eels’ sponsor, as well as the sponsor for Ase. Both teams were under the company’s control; when told to win, they won, and when told to lose, they obeyed—at least, that’s what he’d heard, though he couldn’t be sure.

He noticed the Eels’ odds were low, hovering around 0.67, which seemed unprofitable. He decided to wait until the odds rose from a half-goal to a half-one, which would push the payout to at least 1.0. Even if the Eels won by one goal, he’d recover half his stake, which was still better than the current odds. So, he resolved to wait until after boarding to place his bet.

At last, it was time to board. He slung his bags over his shoulders, walking down the gangway to the ship, feeling the weight heavier than ever—so heavy, in fact, that he sensed something bad was about to happen, though he couldn’t say what.

With a third-class ticket, his bed was in the lowest deck—immediately, he felt uneasy. He quickly realized why: the signal here was the weakest on the whole ship. The first thing he did was open his laptop, but the wireless signal was feeble, just one flickering bar. He thought, if the signal was this bad while docked, what would happen once they were out at sea? Would there be any signal at all?

Finally, the signal strengthened for a moment. The odds on the Eels had risen to half-one at 1.08—a favorable moment. He rushed to place a ten-thousand-yuan bet, fearing he’d lose the chance once the ship left shore. He entered the amount and clicked confirm, but the screen only showed the spinning “waiting” icon, going round and round, with no sign of success. Sweat poured down his brow. Even as the ship’s long whistle sounded and they left the dock, the wheel kept spinning.

Staring at the circling indicator, he gradually lost patience. When other passengers walked by, he felt as though they were disrupting his already weak signal, making him even more restless.

After the ship had sailed dozens of nautical miles, his laptop’s network signal vanished entirely. Zhaoming stared blankly at the people passing his berth, unable to sleep. He wandered alone to the deck, gripping the railing, his mood as bleak as the ancient poem: “Long night follows long night, and worry knows no rest.”