Chapter 095: Testing the Waters with Explosive News

As soon as the man with the braid had left, Chi Zhaoming immediately reopened the betting website he had been browsing.
In order to gather more information, he carefully analyzed the live scores on the football network.
Since it was already midday, all the matches that had opened for betting had concluded, and the results were displayed on the live page.
The outcomes he saw were all within his expectations. Yet he could not understand why, when it came to placing bets, he was always hesitant, unable to decide whether to bet on the favorite or the underdog.
He scrolled through the football network’s website, looking at all the matches scheduled for that evening. Mixed in were several flashing, prominent messages about exclusive insider “royal” score tips.
In the past, he often saw such messages but never quite trusted their authenticity. However, ever since he learned of the existence of fixed matches, he had become half-skeptical, half-believing.
Beneath the message was a phone number for contact. Chi Zhaoming jotted the number down on a slip of paper and set his pen aside.
He picked up his phone and dialed the number.
A man with a heavy Cantonese accent answered. The man asked, “Sir, are you looking for insider tips on the match score?”
“Yes, but I’m not sure how reliable your information is,” Chi Zhaoming replied.
“Our information is absolutely reliable. We have long-term members who enjoy our MC Royal Entertainment Company’s services year-round. The annual membership fee ranges from a hundred thousand to a million, and there’s no upper limit. For non-members, we can provide one internal tip to help you gain trust and confidence in your bets. The tip comes with the predicted score, so you can verify the reliability of our service,” the man replied.
“What I’d like to know is, can non-members get a one-time verification tip?” Chi Zhaoming inquired expectantly.
“Of course. Since this is your first contact with us, to give you confidence in our service, we can offer you a tip for tonight’s Royal team match. However, as a token of sincerity, you’ll need to pay a service fee of one thousand yuan,” the Cantonese man enthused, energetically touting their premium service.
“Just one thousand?” Chi Zhaoming was surprised.
“Yes, sir, please believe in the quality of our service. Next time, the fee will be five thousand per match. Once we receive your payment, the tip will be sent to your phone.”
“Alright, understood. I’ll contact you again once I’ve made the payment,” Chi Zhaoming said, ending the call.
He wrote the remittance address from the website on a slip of paper and put it in his pocket.
He headed to the post office across from the television station, handed the filled-out remittance slip and one thousand yuan to the teller at the window.
“Please show your ID,” the teller said, looking at him.
Chi Zhaoming handed over his ID, feeling a bit guilty under the teller’s gaze. He glanced back and asked nervously, “Is there something wrong?”

“No, it’s just standard procedure to verify your identity,” the teller replied.
Once the remittance was complete, he took the receipt from the teller, checked it, and put it in his pocket.
Back in his office, he fantasized about the information he had bought for a thousand yuan, supposedly a “royal” insider tip—the score prediction, an opportunity. He closed his eyes and imagined betting the maximum allowed, becoming a minor tycoon overnight. Because of the single-game limit, he planned to increase his stake during in-play betting, betting on the exact score, total goals, odd/even, maxing out every option, expecting to win over a hundred thousand yuan. If that happened, wouldn’t he soon be among the wealthy? The thought consumed him, and he sat there grinning foolishly.
The station director walked up to him, but he didn’t notice. Only when something struck his head rather hard did he open his eyes, leaping from his chair in fright.
“I’ve seen you out of work mode twice today. Are you daydreaming? Ever since your promotion, you’ve been absent-minded. How can I trust you with this attitude? Don’t let me down and don’t make me the butt of everyone’s jokes.” The director was clearly dissatisfied with his state. With these words, the director left his office.
After the director left, Chi Zhaoming’s face flushed red with embarrassment. He glanced at the man with the braid.
The man with the braid had noticed everything, and stepped forward to reassure him, “Take a rest, don’t worry about the work. I’ll make sure everything goes smoothly.”
“Alright, thanks. I have something to take care of, you go about your business,” Chi Zhaoming said, trying to avoid him.
The man with the braid understood and returned to his desk.
An hour later, a call came in from an unfamiliar number. Chi Zhaoming answered.
Again, a man with a Cantonese accent, speaking loudly, asked, “Is this Mr. Chi?”
Worried others might overhear, Chi Zhaoming quickly lowered the volume and whispered, “Yes, this is he.”
“Good. We’ve received your one thousand yuan remittance. Thank you for your trust! Tonight, we’re providing you with an insider tip for a Premier League match—this is a fixed match. The score will be sent to your phone after this call, so you can place your bet with confidence.”
“Understood. If your information proves reliable, we’ll have more opportunities to work together,” Chi Zhaoming replied before hanging up.
He sat before his computer, opened the betting site, and browsed the teams available for wagering.
Reviewing the stats and history of both teams, he found their strength evenly matched. The odds suggested little confidence in the home team, as the handicap had the home team giving only a quarter goal.
He pondered: although the home team had the advantage, such a shallow handicap signaled little faith in them. The tip he’d bought indicated the away team would win 2–1.
To him, that seemed a normal result. Should he trust the thousand-yuan tip or not? He couldn’t decide.
How much should he bet? The question circled in his mind: how much, on which team? He began to doubt.

Perhaps he was too close to the situation to see clearly. After a long struggle, he realized—since he had paid for the information, why shouldn’t he believe it?
After a moment’s hesitation, he decided to trust the tip he had purchased.
He maxed out the bet: ten thousand yuan on the away team, a thousand on the exact score at ten-and-a-half odds, for a potential win of ten thousand five hundred. He also put down a thousand each on total goals and odd, for a total possible win of twenty-two thousand three hundred yuan.
Seeing himself place such a large bet for the first time, he thought: if I don’t increase my stake after paying a thousand in fees, how will I afford five thousand per tip next time? He decided to go all in.
After betting, he made a gesture of prayer to the screen, muttering, “Bodhisattva, bless me, amen, amen!”
Friday morning, he rushed to his office and turned on his computer.
At home, it was inconvenient—if he opened the computer early, Dujuan would get suspicious, because she always feared he would return to his old gambling ways. She knew all too well what happened to colleagues who got addicted; once you got hooked, it was like being addicted to drugs.
Though he was eager to know the result of last night’s match, he resisted the urge to check at home.
After a brief startup, his computer was ready. Though it took only a moment, time seemed to drag endlessly for him.
He opened the browser, quickly navigated to the football site, and checked the results. He had wagered over ten thousand—no small sum by any measure, more than twenty thousand yuan. He made a prayer gesture before the screen, eyes shut, afraid to see an upsetting result.
Slowly, he opened his eyes and focused on the completed match results. He saw it—it was a perfect bet. Not only was the correct winner chosen, but the exact score, total goals, and odd/even outcome all matched the tip. This result made him believe in the reliability of these so-called “insider tips.”
He even regretted not having made an excuse to stay at the office overnight for in-play betting, which would have let him win even more. How could such a result not make the battered Chi Zhaoming ecstatic? How could it not spark his spirit anew?
He wanted to throw up his arms and shout, like a national TV football commentator, “Long live glorious Italy!” But what he really wanted to shout was, “Long live the insider tip!”
He looked around—the corridor outside was silent. Just as he was about to cheer aloud, the man with the braid appeared at his office door.
Chi Zhaoming was startled, but thankfully hadn’t called out yet. He quickly realized his colleagues were arriving for work. He raised his head and greeted the man with the braid, “Good morning!”
Hearing his supervisor greet him so cheerfully, the man with the braid replied at once, “Good morning!”