Zhang Lei decided to quit the card games.
Not switch venues — quit entirely. No tables for at least a month.
The logic was simple: Zhao Si was watching. The body search had turned up nothing, which would only make the man more curious, more restless. A player with no devices, no gimmicks, who still won with surgical precision every time — that question would gnaw at Zhao Si until he answered it. As long as Zhang Lei kept showing up at tables, Zhao Si would keep digging.
And Zhang Lei could never explain the X-ray vision. Never intended to let anyone know it existed.
So the best move was to vanish. Disappear from the gambling circuit entirely. Give Zhao Si nothing to watch, nothing to follow. The parlor regulars would forget his face. Let enough time pass and the heat would die on its own.
The afternoon he made that decision, Su Qing came to see him.
Not a text — in person. He heard the buzz of her scooter pull up below the building, the engine cutting to a whine and then silence. A moment later his phone lit up with a single message: "Come down."
Zhang Lei pulled on his shoes and took the stairs two at a time. Su Qing was leaning against the seat of her little electric scooter, one foot on the ground, a plastic bag hanging from the handlebar hook. She didn't smile when she saw him. Just reached into the bag and handed him a cold bottle of iced tea without a word of greeting.
"That card game the other night." She got straight to it. "What actually happened?"
Zhang Lei cracked the cap and took a swig. "Some guys showed up causing trouble. Searched me. It was fine."
"What guys?"
"Someone called Zhao Si — met him at the old parlor in the urban village. I won his money once, he's got a grudge."
Su Qing studied him. Four o'clock sun on her face, eyes narrowed against the glare, expression unreadable.
"You've got a mark on your face," she said.
Zhang Lei touched his cheek — a faint bruise on his right cheekbone. He hadn't noticed during the game. Found it that morning in the mirror. Probably caught an elbow during the search, too keyed-up to register the impact at the time.
"Bumped into something. It's nothing."
Su Qing didn't push. A few seconds later she reached into the scooter's front basket and pulled out a tube of ointment. "Put this on. Brings the swelling down faster." This chapter is updated first at NovelPing.
Zhang Lei took it. They stood there below his building for a while — nothing heavy, just talking. Recent car sales. Su Qing mentioned Wang Defa hadn't brought him up lately; maybe the evidence she'd helped him collect was doing its job.
Then she rode off.
Zhang Lei watched her disappear around the corner of the alley. The tube of ointment was still in his hand, the plastic squeezed slightly out of shape from his grip.
He went back upstairs. The apartment was quiet — his mother at work, his father still out on deliveries. Just the hum of the old refrigerator in the kitchen and the distant sound of someone's television through the wall.
Zhang Lei sat on the edge of his bed and thought for a long time.
Card games gone, his only income stream was used cars. He ran the numbers in his head. Twenty-five thousand in working capital. Turn that three or four times a month, at five to fifteen thousand profit per flip. Twenty thousand a month was realistic. Maybe more if he got lucky with a gem like the Corolla.
Slower than gambling. But stable. And no one came to search him at a car market. No gold-chain enforcers kicking in doors. No bald men with snake-flat eyes watching his every tell.
Zhang Lei opened his phone's notes app and laid out the next month:
1. Market runs every Wednesday and Saturday. One car per trip. Don't get greedy.
2. Su Qing helping with photos and posting to buyer groups — he needed to make that arrangement official. Couldn't keep asking favors without giving something back.
3. Learn more about the used car trade. Not just rely on the vision — he needed to understand pricing trends, buyer psychology, negotiation. Things X-ray eyes couldn't teach him.
4. Stay invisible. No dinners out, no new purchases, no appearances in the old circles.
He saved the note and locked the screen. Then unscrewed the ointment and dabbed it on — cool against his skin, a faint menthol sting.
Outside, the sky was dimming. Cooking smells drifted over from the building opposite — someone frying something in hot oil. His father's cargo tricycle was parked downstairs. The old man had been out hauling loads all day. Probably earned a hundred yuan, give or take.
A hundred yuan. This chapter is updated first at g.com.
What his father made in a full day, Zhang Lei now cleared in an hour on a single car.
The comparison didn't make him feel superior. It made him feel urgent. His father was fifty-five. The body wouldn't hold much longer. His mother's fingers were swollen at every joint from years of gluing tiny parts. He needed to get there — get to a real income, a real life — before they broke down completely.
Used cars. Only used cars.
No more gambling. At least not this month.
Zhang Lei set the ointment on his nightstand — right next to where the loan collection notice sat. The notice was still there, even though the debt was paid. He hadn't thrown it away. Kept it as a reminder.
He picked up his phone and messaged Su Qing:
"Done with card games. Going all-in on cars."
"About time."
"Going to the market Saturday for another pickup. Can you come help me with photos? I'll buy you dinner."
"Deal. You still owe me from last time, by the way."
"We'll do both at once."
Zhang Lei put the phone down. The corner of his mouth lifted.
No more cards. Starting tomorrow, he was nothing but a used car dealer.
A used car dealer who happened to have X-ray vision.