Chapter 132 The bad luck is over, good luck is on its way
The days that followed were like an old, worn-out almanac, each page passing by uneventfully.
But Xie Xun felt a little uncomfortable with it.
When he opened the shop early in the morning, the door hinges didn't creak and jam as usual; they slid so smoothly that he couldn't even apply any force.
As he stepped over the threshold, he subconsciously tensed his calf muscles, preparing to deal with any small stones or uneven surfaces that might appear out of nowhere and cause him to stumble.
No.
The area outside the threshold was spotless, without even a single fallen leaf in the way.
He hesitated for a second before stepping over.
Boiling water for tea, the old-fashioned kettle didn't act up today. It boiled steadily without tripping the circuit breaker or leaking. Even the sound of steam pushing open the lid sounded perfectly normal.
He held the teacup, waiting for the expected accident, but this time he filled it steadily with hot water without spilling a drop.
I went to the convenience store next door to buy instant noodles at noon.
The proprietress was eating sunflower seeds and watching a TV show, not even looking up: "The usual, braised beef?"
"Um."
Xie Xun paid and walked back with the noodles in his hand. When he reached the shop entrance, he stopped and looked down at the plastic bag in his hand.
Something's not right.
Everything went too smoothly.
He almost nitpicked as he tore open the packaging bag, took out the noodle bucket, and lifted the lid.
The seasoning packet, vegetable packet, and sauce packet—three small bags—lay neatly arranged on the dough.
He picked up the bucket of flour again and shook it. Instead of the expected crumbly sound, the flour remained intact.
It's been over twenty years.
If you buy ten packs of instant noodles, at least seven packs will be missing a seasoning packet, or the noodles will be so broken that they can only be eaten as dry noodles.
He's gotten into the habit of opening the package first to check before deciding whether to curse his bad luck or just make do with another sauce.
But now...
He stared at the three intact packets of seasoning, and the pent-up frustration in his heart that had been building up for over twenty years seemed to be gently pried open by something, letting in a sliver of unfamiliar, somewhat bewildered light.
In the afternoon, he went to the post office at the street corner to mail something.
On my way back, I passed a lottery shop, where colorful trend charts were pasted on the glass.
He didn't stop and walked straight over. After walking a dozen meters, he stopped and turned back.
As if possessed, he went inside.
The shop was filled with smoke, and several veteran lottery players were having a heated discussion about hot and cold numbers.
He stood in front of the chart for half a minute, but didn't really understand anything. Then he said to the shopkeeper:
"Quick pick, one bet, Double Color Ball."
The proprietress deftly typed on the keyboard, and the lottery tickets were spit out of the machine.
Xie Xun took the thin piece of paper; the red and blue numbers on it were meaningless to him.
He paid two dollars, casually stuffed the lottery ticket into his pocket, as if completing a meaningless ritual.
The next day, he got up at the same time as usual, opened the shop, and boiled water.
I didn't even have any of those bizarre nightmares last night, and I slept soundly until dawn, feeling unusually refreshed when I woke up.
At noon, he remembered the lottery and checked the winning numbers on his phone.
First, I aimed at the basketball, but missed.
He twitched the corner of his mouth, and sure enough.
Then approach the red balls from back to front.
The sixth one... no, that's not right.
The fifth one... no, that's not right.
The fourth one... huh?
He paused for a moment, then recounted the fourth red ball on his lottery ticket.
Oh, right.
The third one... is correct too?
He slowly suppressed his initial casualness and sat up straight.
The second one... matched.
The first one...
Xie Xun stared at his phone screen, then at the first number on his lottery ticket, looking at it three times.
All correct.
All six red balls, all correct.
Second prize.
Prize money: 30,000 and a few hundred yuan.
There was no ecstatic joy as I had imagined, no racing heart.
Instead, a huge, empty, almost absurd sense of unreality came crashing down on me.
It's like someone who has been trapped in a dark tunnel for a long time being suddenly pushed into the bright sunlight, unable to see anything clearly and only feeling dizzy.
You won the lottery? It's that simple?
Two dollars, quick pick, and you won 30,000?
He held the lottery ticket in his hand, his fingertips slightly cold.
Xie Xun recalled all the unfortunate details of the past twenty years.
Stepping in dog poop while walking, always being on the first bus to leave while waiting for the bus, appliances that break down at crucial moments, and winning a prize and always getting "thank you for your patronage".
These things came rushing in like a tide, then receded with a splash, leaving behind a flat beach that left him feeling utterly lost.
He looked up and glanced out the window.
The sun was shining brightly. The shopkeeper next door was hanging out laundry, and neighbors were walking by with their dogs. Everything was no different from yesterday, the day before, or countless other unlucky days in the past.
But something is completely different.
That persistent "bad luck," which seemed to be embedded in his bones, has truly disappeared.
It didn't weaken, it disappeared.
So clean it was as if it had never existed.
Xie Xun carefully folded the lottery ticket and put it in the innermost drawer.
Then he got up, went to the back kitchen, and took two eggs from the refrigerator.
Today, Fu Qinghuai said he wanted to eat noodles.
When cracking the eggs, he deliberately didn't take the same precautions as before to prevent the eggshells from falling into the bowl.
The eggshell was cleanly and neatly split in two, and the egg liquid slid into the bowl. It was golden yellow, without any broken yolk or invisible blood spots.
He looked at the eggs in the bowl and suddenly let out a long sigh.
That breath seemed to slowly release more than twenty years of pent-up frustration, helplessness, and resignation.
"We'll have noodles for dinner,"
He spoke to the front hall in a low but steady voice, "Add two eggs."
From the sofa in the front hall, Fu Qinghuai lazily replied, "Oh. You won the lottery? So generous."
Xie Xun didn't answer, but picked up his chopsticks and started stirring the egg mixture in the bowl.
The tapping sound was crisp and even.
The warm sunlight streamed in through the window, falling on his hands and the bowl of golden, glistening egg liquid.
That's fucking smooth sailing...
When the thought popped into his head, he was stunned for a moment.
Then, a barely perceptible smile crept onto the corners of his mouth.
That unfamiliar yet comforting "smoothness" was like warm water flowing over frozen soil, melting away the hard knots that had accumulated in Xie Xun's bones over the past twenty years.
These past few days, he no longer subconsciously watches his step when walking, and he doesn't have to worry about his teacup suddenly cracking when he holds it. Even the bird outside the window that always accurately drops its darts at him when he hangs out the laundry seems to have moved away.
Until that lottery ticket actually turned into an extra five figures in my bank account.
That unreal, fleeting feeling finally settled heavily on the ground, making a real impact.
He stood behind the counter, his fingertips unconsciously tapping the table.
Then he picked up his phone, opened Jiang Lehui's chat window, and his fingers flew across the screen:
[6 PM, Lou Wai Lou Lotus Hall, bring Shen Zhaoyao. You'll have to pay the bill if you're late.]
Jiang Le's call came almost instantly, his voice loud and cheerful.
"Holy crap! You've won the lottery? Lou Wai Lou! You're amazing! Don't worry, even if you start the banquet at midnight, I'll crawl there on time!"
"Shut up, you're making noise."
Xie Xun held his phone further away, his tone impatient, but the lines between his brows, which were usually tense due to years of bad luck, relaxed almost imperceptibly for a moment.
After hanging up the phone, I turned around and almost bumped into someone's arms.
Fu Qinghuai had quietly moved closer to him without him noticing, looking down at him with a slight smile on her lips and bright, sparkling eyes that held a mischievous yet tender possessiveness.
"Is Xunxun treating us?"
His voice was low and breathy, and the affectionate address flowed naturally, "And what about me?"
Xie Xun pressed his palm against Xie Xun's chest, which was too close to his, without using force, but the meaning was clear.
"What do you mean 'you'? Go change your clothes."
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