Since the end of last month, business at the bar had been noticeably better than when Xu Ye first started.

Tonight was no different.

From eight o’clock onward, customers came in steady waves, and Xu Ye and Zhou Ying barely had a moment to breathe. Things settled down a bit after ten-thirty — and that was when Qin Zhiwei walked through the door.

“Zhiwei, what are you doing here?”

“I came to spend money. Problem?” He looked at the bar. “Get me a cold beer.”

“Fridge is right there. Help yourself.”

“You’re the staff. I’m the customer. Do you know what they say about the customer?”

Xu Ye grabbed him in a headlock. “Say that again. Go on.”

Zhou Ying, who had clocked the dynamic immediately, had already pulled a cold beer from the fridge and set it down while they were wrestling. Zhiwei accepted it with an awkward thank-you, and the moment she walked away, he dropped his voice.

“Which one’s your boss?”

He’d been curious since Xu Ye’s first day — the description had lodged itself in his memory.

“She’s been here most nights, just not tonight. Which means you don’t get to see her. Fate’s not on your side.”

“Are you serious?”

“Cross my heart.”

Zhiwei deflated. He found a seat. Xu Ye, seeing the bar had quieted down, grabbed two glasses and sat with him.

“You’re out this late — your mom’s not on your case?”

“She went to my grandma’s. Dad’s pulling an all-nighter.”

“For what?”

“There’s a football match in the early hours. You know him — doesn’t care about much, but he loves his football.”

Xu Ye smiled. “I’m probably here until eleven. Want to wait and walk back together?”

“Fine. Mom’s not around anyway.”

Zhiwei pulled out his phone, grinning. “I just joined our university’s incoming students group. Someone already posted photos of the campus beauty. Have a look.”

He held out the phone.

Xu Ye looked. “That’s it?”

“What do you mean, that’s it? She’s not good-looking?”

“Average. Can’t compare to my girlfriend.”

“Sure.”

Xu Ye let it go and changed the subject. “When did you get this phone? What brand?”

“Vivo! Just launched in May! Snapdragon 801 flagship chip! Incredible, right?”

“It’s fine.”

“You get a new phone yet?”

“No.”

Zhiwei frowned. “You scored that well on the gaokao and your parents didn’t give you money for a new phone?”

“They did. I just haven’t bought one.”

“Why not?”

“Current one still works. And honestly, the phones out right now are all rubbish.”

A 120Hz refresh rate. A battery that charged in fifteen minutes. 5G at over a hundred megabytes per second. [TL: Xu Ye is thinking of premium smartphones from the early 2020s. In 2014, most flagship phones had 60Hz screens, slow charging, and no 5G — the technology didn’t exist yet. From his perspective, every 2014 phone is essentially a brick.]

Going back to those, after years with a modern phone — rubbish was the right word.

Xu Ye just smiled and left it there.

The two of them sat back, let the drinks settle the evening, and talked the way they always had — nowhere in particular.

Just before eleven, the last two customers in the bar pushed back their chairs to leave. Xu Ye was about to go clear their table when something they said stopped him cold.

“Germany versus Brazil tonight. Who do you think takes it?”

“Brazil, obviously. They’re so strong this year, and they’ve got home advantage. How is Germany supposed to match that?”

“Hard to say — Germany’s been solid too. Beat France in the quarterfinals.”

Germany versus Brazil.

2014.

2014 World Cup—

How did I forget about this?

It hit him all at once. The 2014 semifinal. Germany versus the host nation, Brazil. Final score: 7–1.

Before the match, almost nobody had called it. Brazil was strong, and the home crowd factor was real. Even if Germany won, nobody expected a margin like that.

And yet — somewhere in Europe, one Dutchman had gotten drunk and spent two hundred euros on that exact scoreline. With the 6,500-to-one odds, he walked away with the equivalent of eleven million yuan.

That story had made the news.

How did I forget?

Xu Ye snapped out of it and grabbed Zhiwei by the arm. “How did you get here?”

“Electric scooter—”

“Give me the keys.”

“What? Why?”

“I need to go somewhere. Now. Keys.”

Zhiwei handed them over without understanding any of it. Xu Ye turned to Xiaonuan and Zhou Ying: “I’ll be right back.”

He was out the door before they could respond.

He rode straight to the nearest sports lottery outlet.

It was still open — the World Cup had pushed closing time to midnight. He ran in.

“Can I still bet on Germany versus Brazil tonight?”

The owner looked up slowly. “You can.”

“Can I bet on the scoreline?”

“You can. Scoreline odds are higher. What score do you want?”

“7–1.”

“Son — first time, I’m guessing? In domestic sports lottery, if either side’s score exceeds five, it just gets lumped under ‘Other.’ That’s how it works here. For exact margins like that you’d need to go through offshore betting — but that’s illegal.”

“Oh.” Xu Ye had never looked into this before.

“You want to buy ‘Other’? The odds are still fairly good.”

“Yes. Germany wins.”

“Germany beats Brazil?”

“Yes.”

“Are you sure? Germany winning, and scoring more than five goals to do it — that’s basically impossible.”

Xu Ye nodded. “That’s the bet. What are the odds?”

“150 to 1.”

Only 150.

His heart sank slightly. But then he ran the numbers.

All the cash he had on hand was the night’s wages — three thousand three hundred yuan. Everything else was already tied up in the stock account, and there was no time to transfer it, withdraw it, and get back here before midnight.

He counted out every note and pushed it across the counter.

“Three thousand three hundred. Germany wins Brazil, Germany scores more than five goals.”

The owner looked at him. Looked at the money. Looked at him again.

“You sure about this, son? Don’t go making snap decisions just because you’ve had a few drinks.” He’d caught the scent of beer on Xu Ye early. “This money’s non-refundable.”

“I’m sure.”

“Alright, on your head be it.”

The ticket printed. Xu Ye checked it carefully, folded it, and tucked it away. He walked out.

The moment the door closed behind him, the owner shook his head.

“Young kid, little bit of drink in him, completely lost his mind. Germany scoring five-plus to beat Brazil? That’s not gambling, that’s just throwing money away.”

(End of Chapter)