Zhang Lei said he was done with cards.
But sometimes it wasn't about what he wanted.
Thursday night he was at the corner shop below the old factory district, buying cigarettes. Not for himself—for his dad. He stepped outside and nearly walked straight into someone.
Black padded jacket. Gold chain.
The same gold chain from that Texas Hold'em game. The one who'd burst in claiming to "catch a cheater."
Zhang Lei's feet stuttered half a step. The other man spotted him too.
"Well, well." Gold Chain's lip curled upward. "Little brother. You live around here?"
Zhang Lei didn't answer. His eyes swept the surroundings in a practiced two-second scan—just the two of them outside the shop. Across the street, an old woman walking a toddler in slow circles. No one else. The fluorescent tube above the shop entrance hummed and flickered, casting jittery light on the cracked pavement.
"Relax." Gold Chain fished a cigarette from his pocket and stuck it between his lips, unlit. "I'm not here for trouble. Just passing through."
Passing through. The old factory district sat five kilometers from city center, wedged between a defunct textile mill and a gravel lot. Nobody "passed through" here. You came here because you lived here, or because you had business with someone who did.
"Fourth Brother asked me to pass along a message." So much for passing through. "He says last time was a misunderstanding. Wants to buy you tea—just a chat. Nothing heavy."
"No thanks." Zhang Lei kept his voice flat, almost bored. "Tell him I appreciate it, but there's nothing to discuss."
Gold Chain studied him for two seconds, that unlit cigarette bobbing slightly between his lips. Then he smiled. Not the friendly kind—the kind that said I tried being polite.
"Sure. I'll pass that along." He produced a lighter, sparked it, and turned toward the alley entrance. Took four steps. Then stopped and looked back over his shoulder, smoke trailing from his mouth into the cold air.
Then he was gone. Footsteps fading into the alley. The orange glow of his cigarette swallowed by darkness.
Zhang Lei stood outside the corner shop. The cigarette pack in his fist was crushed nearly flat—he hadn't noticed squeezing it.
Zhao Si knew where he lived.
He forced himself to breathe. Slow in, slow out. It wasn't fear exactly—more like a wall pressing against his chest. The suffocating feeling of being cornered. He'd stayed invisible for almost three weeks. Changed his routines, changed his income source, stayed away from every card room in Binjiang City. And Zhao Si had still found his home address.
Not just found it. Deliberately sent someone to show that he'd found it.
I know where you live.
This wasn't an invitation. This was a demonstration.
Zhang Lei went home. Dropped the mangled cigarette pack on the coffee table. Went to his room and shut the door.
He sat on the edge of his bed in the dark for a full minute before turning on the lamp.
What did Zhao Si actually want?
Worst case: he wanted Zhang Lei's "ability." He'd convinced himself Zhang Lei had some kind of supernatural edge at the table, and he wanted that edge working for him. Wanted to turn Zhang Lei into his personal weapon—sit him down at high-stakes games, feed him signals, split the take.
If Zhang Lei refused—then what?
Violence? Unlikely. Zhao Si was a card shark, not a street enforcer. He operated with brains and fingers, not fists. Gold Chain and his crew were theater—intimidation props. If things turned physical, if someone actually got hurt, Zhao Si couldn't handle the heat.
But he could make life miserable in other ways. Knowing the address meant he could harass Zhang Lei's family. Show up when his parents were home. Disrupt the car business. Spread the word in every circle that Zhang Lei was a cheater, a marked man, someone you didn't want to deal with.
Death by a thousand cuts. Zhao Si's specialty.
Zhang Lei lay back and stared at the ceiling. A water stain shaped like a kidney spread across the corner above his closet. He'd been staring at that stain since he was twelve.
Three options. Read this novel at g.com for the best experience.
First: keep hiding. Moving wasn't realistic—his parents had lived here for twenty years, weren't going anywhere. But he could stay vigilant, keep his head down, and push the used car business harder. Build enough capital to get truly independent, truly gone from this world.
Second: confront it. Meet Zhao Si face to face. Say clearly—I'm out of the card game. Permanently. Leave me alone. But that could backfire badly. A face-to-face meeting would only confirm Zhao Si's suspicion that Zhang Lei had something worth exploiting. You don't refuse a man like Zhao Si to his face unless you have leverage.
Third: find someone Zhao Si feared. Make it known that touching Zhang Lei came with a price. But he didn't know anyone with that kind of weight. Not yet. He was twenty-three, broke until recently, with a social circle that consisted of his parents, a logistics driver, and a girl who sold jade pendants online.
None of the options were clean.
Zhang Lei closed his eyes. Thought for a long time. Outside, traffic hissed on wet asphalt. Inside, his father's television murmured through the wall—some news broadcast about grain prices.
Finally, he made a decision.
Do nothing. For now.
Keep going about his business as normal. But starting tomorrow—pay attention. Watch for anyone following him.
If Zhao Si had only dug up his address and sent one messenger, this was still a probe. A test. As long as Zhang Lei didn't respond, didn't show up to "tea," Zhao Si had no rational reason to escalate. Escalation cost money and effort, and Zhao Si was a businessman at heart. He wouldn't spend resources on someone who wasn't reacting.
But if someone started tailing him—following him to the trade market, to client meetings, to car pickups—that was different.
That meant preparation. Groundwork for something worse.
Zhang Lei turned over. Outside the window, a stray cat was yowling—thin, sharp cries, one after another, like a baby in distress.
Tomorrow. The market. Business as usual.
But with eyes on his six.