Chapter 7: It's All Just a Game! (Please Keep Reading!)

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After thoroughly checking his phone with no issues, Jiang Tao slipped it into the black backpack he usually carried home. Glancing at the time—it was already around 5 p.m.—he figured the car left at the repair shop was probably fixed by now. He headed downstairs to catch the bus over to the shop.

“Master Jiang’s here! Have a smoke. Your car’s all fixed, right over there. Go take a look,” the repair shop owner greeted him cheerfully, tossing him a cigarette.

“I trust Master Tian’s skills, naturally! Otherwise, I wouldn’t have come all this way to get my car fixed,” Jiang Tao said, reaching out to take the cigarette. He pulled a lighter from his pocket and lit up. There was definitely a difference in taste between these fifty to sixty yuan cigarettes and the ten-yuan ones he usually smoked.

Jiang Tao couldn’t help but think to himself how lucrative car repair really was. The shop owner smoked premium cigarettes—several tiers above his own. Why hadn’t he learned auto repair when he was younger?

After chatting a bit with the owner, Jiang Tao went over to inspect the newly replaced windshield on his beloved car. After a careful check and finding no faults, he started the engine and drove off.

He returned the car to the same spot at the entrance of Xiaoshahe Village where he had parked it yesterday. After turning off the engine and stepping out, he hummed a tune as he strolled into the village.

Although he had lost a day’s work due to the repairs, he’d earned an iPhone 15 and 8,000 yuan. Today was easily the best day Jiang Tao had had all year! Making over ten thousand yuan in a single day was a highlight in his life.

The last time he'd earned more than ten thousand in one day was three or four years ago, when he was knocked off his bike by a BMW on the road and hit his head. The driver, pressed for time and unable to file an insurance claim, handed Jiang Tao 10,000 yuan for medical expenses.

Jiang Tao spent only two yuan on a box of band-aids at the pharmacy; the rest became his little treasure chest.

Passing by the Fat Dongdong Supermarket, Jiang Tao noticed he only had one pack of cigarettes left at home. He turned around and went inside.

“Boss, do you have a full carton of Hongliqun today?” he asked as he entered, greeting the owner behind the counter, a fair-skinned, plump man busy with his calculator.

The owner, Yu Dongdong, was also thirty years old, the same age as Jiang Tao, but their fates were very different. Yu was a local from Xiaoshahe Village, running this 200-square-meter supermarket in a building owned by his family.

Though Xiaoshahe was small, with fewer than a thousand local villagers, it was home to over 50,000 migrant renters like Jiang Tao. The village’s supermarkets and restaurants generally did good business.

Yu’s unassuming supermarket was reportedly making over a hundred thousand yuan a month—an example of quietly striking it rich.

“Master Jiang, just for you, I set aside a carton. That’s how much I appreciate you, brother!” Yu said, smiling and placing a carton of Hongliqun on the counter.

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These days, with strict tobacco controls, affordable cigarettes like Hongliqun—priced around ten yuan a pack—were becoming scarce and harder to buy. Only close acquaintances could usually get a full carton.

“Thanks! Also, give me a bottle… a bottle of 10-year-old Bainiu Er!” Jiang Tao had earned over 8,000 yuan today and wanted to indulge a bit with some better liquor.

He normally drank Bainiu Er for 15 yuan a bottle, but the 10-year-old variety cost 95 yuan.

“Wow! Looks like Master Jiang had a good day! Big earnings, huh?” Yu teased when Jiang Tao asked for the 10-year-old Bainiu.

Jiang Tao chuckled, “We drivers only make some hard-earned money. Nothing like you supermarket owners who easily pull in millions a year.”

“Ah, it’s not easy either! I’m tied to this counter like a donkey all day,” Yu joked. “Just spinning around this one spot, nowhere else to go.”

“Better you than me, running around all day. Sounds more fun!” Yu laughed as he grabbed a bottle of the 10-year-old Bainiu from the shelf.

“By the way, Master Jiang, it’s year-end and Qinghualang is running a promotion. Want to try your luck with a bottle?” Yu added.

“If you hit second prize, this bottle’s free, plus I’ll give you another one.”

“If you hit the jackpot first prize, you get an even higher-end Red Yun Lang bottle.”

“Red Yun Lang sells for 2,500 yuan a bottle—you’d actually make a thousand yuan profit!” Yu said as he held up a bottle of Qinghualang, trying to sell it.

“How much is this one?” Jiang Tao asked, curious.

“1,499 yuan.”

“That’s as expensive as Moutai! Boss Yu, you’re too generous. My taste buds don’t deserve such pricey liquor,” Jiang Tao said, immediately deterred by the price.

As for winning a prize…

Ha.

If it were that easy to win, Yu wouldn’t still be trying to sell these bottles—they’d have been snapped up long ago.

These winery promotions were like carrots dangling in front of a donkey: visible but unreachable. Pure gimmicks.

“The odds of winning are 100%! At worst, you get a small sample bottle,” Yu said, picking up a 100ml trial bottle from the counter to show him.

Jiang Tao remained unmoved and smiled, “I’m not that lucky. Let’s leave the good fortune for someone else, Boss Yu. How much do I owe you?”

Yu punched the numbers into the calculator. “251 yuan total. Really no try, Master Jiang?”

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“No, I don’t have that kind of luck!” Jiang Tao smiled, shaking his head. He scanned the code to pay the 251 yuan, grabbed his cigarettes and liquor, and left.

Passing the steamed bun shop, Jiang Tao bought a freshly made flatbread. At the deli, he picked up nine yuan worth of cold dishes and half a pound of pig’s head meat.

After his shopping, he returned to his rented room carrying a few bags.

The phone rang—Xu Li, his wife, was calling on video as soon as he stepped inside.

Jiang Tao swiped to answer.

“Hubby! Has the phone you won shipped yet?” Xu Li asked right away.

“It’s already with me!”

“So fast!”

“Yeah, same-city delivery in the capital is quick.”

“I checked online, the model you won has dropped in price to just over 4,300 yuan. If we sell it, probably around 3,800 or 3,900 yuan! Let’s sell the phone!”

“Okay, I’ll take it to the village phone shop tomorrow to see what they offer. If it’s reasonable, we’ll sell.”

“God really opened His eyes, letting you win such a big prize when we needed money most!”

“Yeah…”

The couple chatted casually for about an hour before hanging up.

After the call, Jiang Tao started dinner: flatbread rolled with pig’s head meat, Bainiu Er with cold dishes, and some leftover peanuts from yesterday.

Simple, yet an incredibly satisfying meal.

Full and content, Jiang Tao had no plans for entertainment that night. He washed his feet and face, then crawled into bed to listen to an audiobook.

Recently, he’d been listening to a book titled *“Running an Inn on Sanqing Mountain: Weekly Check-ins with Random Rewards.”* It was somewhat entertaining and good for passing the time.

As he listened, his mind wandered to thoughts of the next piece of intelligence. What would it be?

If only he could get another lucrative tip like the ones from yesterday and today!

A few more times like this, maybe he could pay off the family’s debts before the New Year.

Then, debt-free and light-hearted, he could spend a good New Year with his wife and child.