Chapter 73 This is just the beginning, Zhao Qingda
As autumn deepens, the leaves of the sycamore trees begin to turn yellow.
That afternoon, Zhao Fei met someone in the pig farm office.
The man was in his forties, introduced by Lao Erhei. He was short and thin, wearing a faded coat and carrying a black faux leather bag.
He was a little reserved when he entered. Zhao Fei stood up to greet him, shook his hand, offered him a seat, and poured him tea.
"Brother Sansheng, have a seat." Zhao Fei pushed the teacup towards him.
The man called Sansheng took the tea, didn't drink it, and placed it on the table: "Boss Zhao, you wanted to see me?"
Zhao Fei sat down opposite him, took a brown paper envelope from the drawer, and pushed it towards him.
The envelope wasn't thick, but it was bulging. San Sheng didn't move, watching Zhao Fei.
"There's something I'd like to ask Brother Sansheng for a favor." Zhao Fei's voice wasn't loud, but it was very clear. "I have a cousin named Zhao Qingda. He's had some extra money lately and likes to play a few rounds of games. I'm thinking that it's fine for young people to play around, but there has to be a limit."
San Sheng narrowed his eyes, waiting for what was to come.
“So I’d like to ask Brother Sansheng,” Zhao Fei paused, “to take him to do something ‘interesting.’ Let him have a good time, have enough fun, and experience it thoroughly. Money is not a problem, I’ll pay for it.”
San Sheng stared at Zhao Fei for a few seconds, then suddenly laughed: "Mr. Zhao, what's this...?"
“It’s a family matter,” Zhao Fei interrupted him, and smiled, but the smile didn’t reach his eyes. “Brother Sansheng is well-known in the south of the city. He knows how to handle people when he plays cards. I trust you.”
Sansheng was silent for a moment, then reached for the envelope, felt its thickness, and stuffed it into his pocket: "Okay, I'll do as Boss Zhao instructs."
The two exchanged a few more words in hushed tones, and then San Sheng rose to take his leave.
Zhao Fei saw him to the door and watched him get on a bicycle and disappear on the dirt road.
As Zhao Fei turned to go back into the house, the smile on his face vanished.
He walked to the window, looking at the pigsty in the distance with a cold gaze.
Zhao Qingda, the game is about to begin, are you ready?
Zhao Qingda has been having an unusually good run of luck lately.
Since moving into an apartment building and having some spare money, he has become addicted to playing cards.
At first, he played in the community's card room, but later he felt it wasn't enough, so he started going to different places with a few card-playing friends.
We play mahjong, poker, and tractor-like games—we play everything.
He didn't know if it was a stroke of good fortune or something else, but he hadn't lost almost anything in the past two weeks.
He wins nine out of ten times, sometimes winning several hundred dollars in one night—that's a month's salary for an average worker.
That day in the card room, Zhao Qingda won another resounding victory.
He shoved his cards aside and laughed heartily, "Pay up, pay up! Sorry everyone, I'm just having a lucky streak today!"
The card players reluctantly took out their money, and one of them, nicknamed Lao Liu, muttered, "Qingda, your luck is too good! Did you cheat?"
"Bullshit!" Zhao Qingda glared. "I win money through my own skill. If you can't handle losing, then don't play!"
As they were arguing, a thin man at the next table turned around.
He had been watching without saying a word, but now he spoke up: "Brother Qingda is really lucky. But this kind of small-scale gambling is no fun."
Zhao Qingda sized him up: "Who are you?"
“My name is Sansheng. Everyone who plays cards in the south of the city knows me.” Sansheng handed over a cigarette. “If you’re interested, Brother Qingda, I know a place where you can play Pai Gow. That’s the kind of fun you can have. One hand is worth ten days of playing here.”
Zhao Qingda took the cigarette but didn't light it: "Playing Pai Gow? Is it a high-stakes game?"
San Sheng laughed: "It depends on how you play. Small bets are tens or hundreds, big bets..." He lowered his voice, "...there's no limit. I've seen people win or lose tens of thousands in a single game."
Tens of thousands...?
Zhao Qingda's heart started racing.
He's rich now, but he doesn't dare spend it recklessly. If only he could multiply his money several times over through gambling…
“Where?” he asked.
Zhao Qingda was very cautious when he first went to that underground casino.
He only brought a thousand yuan with him, thinking that even if he lost it all, he wouldn't feel bad.
The casino was located in an abandoned warehouse in the south of the city. It looked dilapidated from the outside, but inside it was a hidden gem.
Several tables were surrounded by people, filled with smoke, shouts, curses, and the clinking of chips, creating a cacophony of adrenaline.
Sansheng showed him around the place, introduced him to a bald man called "Brother Leopard," and then stepped aside.
It was Zhao Qingda's first time playing Pai Gow, and he was clumsy, but he was lucky.
That night, he turned his initial investment of one thousand yuan into three thousand.
When he walked out of the warehouse, it was almost dawn. With his bulging pockets, he felt like he was floating on clouds.
From then on, he became a regular there.
What's even stranger is that he almost never lost.
Sometimes, even with a bad hand, he always manages to turn things around. Over the course of half a month, he'd won at least twenty or thirty thousand yuan.
Everyone in the casino knew him and called him "Zhao the God of Wealth".
Brother Leopard patted him on the shoulder and said, "Brother Qingda, your luck was amazing! Come over often, I'll protect you!"
Zhao Qingda was elated.
He started dressing more elegantly, wearing a gold watch, carrying a mobile phone, taking taxis when he went out, and eating out when he ate.
When the casino's henchmen saw him, they would all bow and scrape, calling him "Brother Zhao."
He's doing well at the casino, but a bit unlucky in love.
Ruomei has been making a lot of noise lately.
She was no longer content to be a mistress in the shadows and began pressuring Zhao Qingda to divorce his wife.
"Qingda, we've been together for over a year. When are you going to give me a proper status?" That night, after they finished, Ruomei nestled against Zhao Qingda's chest and asked softly.
Zhao Qingda, with his eyes closed, replied dismissively, "What's the rush? Isn't it good the way it is now?"
"What's so good about it?" Ruomei sat up. "I'm already so old, I can't wait any longer. If you really care about me, divorce your husband and marry me. If you don't want to marry me, then we're done!"
"Are you threatening me?" Zhao Qingda opened his eyes, his face darkening.
"I'm not threatening you, I'm thinking of myself." Ruomei's eyes reddened. "What kind of relationship do I, a woman, have with you in this ambiguous way? Your wife is old and ugly, why are you keeping her?"
Zhao Qingda sat up irritably and lit a cigarette.
He did have a bit of a crush on Ruomei—young, beautiful, charming, and open in bed. Should he marry her?
Don't be ridiculous. What's her background?
What did she do before? If he marries her, where will Zhao Qingda put his face?
Besides, what is his current status?
Rich people!
A young and promising boss!
If he marries a prostitute, how will he ever be able to face anyone again?
"We'll talk about this later," he said, getting up to put on his clothes. "I have something to do tonight, so I'll be going now."
Ruomei watched him leave without looking back, and angrily threw her pillow on the ground.
In the following days, Zhao Qingda began to avoid Ruomei.
She doesn't answer the phone, doesn't reply to pages, and can't be found at her place.
Ruomei understood: this man had gotten tired of her and wanted to dump her.
She sat in her rented room, looking at her still young and beautiful face in the mirror, her eyes gradually turning cold.
Zhao Qingda, you think you can get away with this for free? No way.
That afternoon, Wang Juan was dozing off at the movie theater ticket window.
There weren't many people at the weekend event, and she felt drowsy.
Suddenly, a woman stood in front of the window.
"A copy of 'Farewell My Concubine,' the one at three o'clock." The woman's voice was sweet and delicate.
Wang Juan looked up and froze.
The woman in front of me was young, wearing a fashionable red dress, with big, wavy hair, bright lipstick, and a strong perfume.
She recognized the face—she'd seen it at a movie theater a while ago and even asked where the restroom was.
"Ten yuan," Wang Juan said mechanically.
The woman took out her money and handed it over. As Wang Juan was giving her change, the woman suddenly lowered her voice and said, "Excuse me, could you do me a favor? My back zipper seems to be stuck. Could you take a look?"
Wang Juan frowned, intending to refuse, but seeing the other party's earnest expression, she still walked around the ticket window.
The movie theater lobby was nearly empty. The woman had her back to her and tossed her hair to one side.
Wang Juan reached for the zipper, but her gaze fell on the woman's bare back—covered with scars of varying depths.
Some were whip marks, some were pinch marks, and others were burn scars from cigarette butts; the old and new marks were mixed together, a shocking sight.
Her hand froze.
The woman turned around, looked at her, and a mocking smile curled at the corner of her lips: "See? Your Zhao Qingda did this. He's quite the player, isn't he?"
Wang Juan's mind went blank. Of course she knew Zhao Qingda had this fetish—she herself bore many similar marks.
That was a secret understanding between the couple: one abusive, the other a victim—abnormal yet perfectly aligned.
But now, these scars are on another woman.
"Who...who are you?" Wang Juan's voice trembled.
“My name is Ruomei.” The woman slowly tidied her hair. “I’ve been with your Zhao Qingda for over a year. Has he not told you? No wonder, why would he? He said you’re old, boring, and like a block of wood.”
"You're talking nonsense!" Wang Juan shrieked.
"I'm talking nonsense?" Ruomei sneered. "Does he like to ridicule you and hit you during 'that' time? Does he like to use other... things?"
Every word was like a knife, piercing Wang Juan's heart.
Because all of these are true.
“He played the same game with me.” Ruomei’s voice was soft, but it slithered into Wang Juan’s ears like a venomous snake. “He said I’m younger than you, more open-minded than you, and understand him better than you. He also said that he would divorce you and marry me after a while.”
Wang Juan was trembling all over, her eyes bloodshot.
Looking at the young and beautiful woman in front of her, and at the marks on her body that belonged to Zhao Qingda, all the anger and grievances she had been holding back erupted at that moment.
She pounced like an enraged lioness.
The two women were wrestling.
Ruomei screamed, Wang Juan roared, they tore at each other's hair, scratched each other's faces, and kicked each other.
The ticket window glass shattered, and change was scattered all over the floor. Cinema staff rushed over upon hearing the noise and struggled to separate the two people.
Wang Juan had several bloody scratches on her face, and Ruomei's dress was torn.
Both of them were panting heavily, glaring fiercely at each other.
"Get out!" Wang Juan pointed to the door. "If I ever see you again, I'll tear your face to shreds!"
Ruomei straightened her hair and smiled, a smile radiating victorious smugness: "Wang Juan, you're treating a scoundrel like a treasure, how pathetic. Let me tell you, I'm going to have Zhao Qingda, you just wait and see about the divorce!"
After she finished speaking, she swayed away.
Wang Juan collapsed to the ground, looked at the mess, and burst into tears.
The onlookers pointed and whispered among themselves.
The manager walked over with a dark face: "Wang Juan, you're fired. Go to the finance department now to settle your accounts and get out!"
Wang Juan did not pay the bill.
She returned home dejectedly, looking at the home she had bought with her lottery winnings and had once dreamed of, and suddenly felt that everything was so ridiculous.
She started smashing things.
TV, refrigerator, washing machine, coffee table, sofa... everything that could be smashed was smashed.
Glass shards, porcelain pieces, and wood chips were scattered all over the ground.
She went crazy, smashing things and crying, cursing as she cried.
When Zhao Qingda returned home that evening, he found a house that had been completely destroyed, and Wang Juan holding a kitchen knife with bloodshot eyes.
"Zhao Qingda!" Wang Juan's voice was hoarse, like a broken gong. "I'll fight you to the death!"
She charged at him, knife in hand. Zhao Qingda was terrified and stumbled backward, yelling, "Juanzi! Juanzi, calm down! Put the knife down!"
"I'll let your mother go!" Wang Juan screamed hysterically. "I'm working myself to the bone outside, and you're keeping a whore on the side! You even sent people to my door to humiliate me! Zhao Qingda, you're not human! I'll kill you today, and we'll die together!"
The blade gleamed coldly under the lamplight. Zhao Qingda's legs went weak, and he knelt down with a thud.
"Juanzi, I was wrong! I was really wrong!" he said, slapping himself repeatedly. "I'm not human! I'm a bastard! Please forgive me this time, I'll never do it again!"
The sound of the slap was crisp and loud, echoing in the empty room.
Zhao Qingda's face quickly became red and swollen, but he dared not stop, hitting him again and again until blood seeped from the corner of his mouth.
Wang Juan held up the knife, looking at his pathetic state, and tears streamed down her face.
“Juanzi, think about Tietou…” Zhao Qingda crawled over and hugged her legs. “Our son is gone, it’s just the two of us left. What will I do if something happens to you? What will happen to our family?”
Wang Juan's hand trembled when she mentioned Tie Tou.
"I swear, I'll never see another woman again!" Zhao Qingda cried, his face streaked with snot and tears. "I'll stay with you, let's live a good life together. We're still young, we can have another one... Juanzi, think about it, think about our son..."
The knife in Wang Juan's hand clattered to the ground. She slumped down, covered her face, and burst into tears.
That night, Zhao Qingda knelt for half the night, saying countless kind words and making countless solemn oaths.
Wang Juan cried herself to sleep and collapsed on the bed, like a soulless shell.
Zhao Qingda served her with utmost care, bringing her tea and water, wiping her face and washing her feet, like the most docile dog.
For the next two weeks, Zhao Qingda did indeed behave himself.
He stayed home with Wang Juan every day, cooking, cleaning, and speaking softly to her.
Wang Juan's emotions gradually calmed down. Although she still didn't speak, at least she stopped trying to kill herself.
Zhao Qingda secretly breathed a sigh of relief.
He thought that once this period of time passed and Wang Juan calmed down, he would slowly slip away.
He hadn't been to the casino for half a month, and he was itching to go.
That afternoon, Wang Juan took a nap.
Zhao Qingda looked at her sleeping face, quietly got up, changed his clothes, stuffed the money in his pocket, and slipped out the door.
The casino is still the same as always.
Smoke swirled, and the air was filled with the clamor of voices. Brother Leopard saw him and greeted him warmly: "Hey, Zhao Caishen, haven't been here for half a month! What, retired from the life of crime?"
"Something came up at home," Zhao Qingda replied casually, his eyes fixed on the card table. "Any good games planned for today?"
"What a coincidence, they just set up a big table." Brother Leopard put his arm around his shoulder. "They're all familiar faces, having a great time. Want to try your luck?"
Zhao Qingda would of course go.
He had been holding back for half a month and couldn't contain himself any longer.
Let's play Pai Gow.
Several card-playing partners had changed, but Sansheng remained. Upon seeing Zhao Qingda, Sansheng greeted him with a smile: "Brother Qingda, you're here? You'll have to mentor your little brother today."
Zhao Qingda sat down smugly: "No problem, no problem."
He won the first few rounds.
But gradually, his playing style started to go wrong.
Even though the cards seem pretty good, the actual result is always a little off.
Pairs are broken up, straights are disjointed, and big cards always seem to come up with even bigger cards.
Zhao Qingda refused to believe in bad luck, and the more he lost, the more he bet, and the more he bet, the more he lost.
The five thousand yuan he brought was quickly gone. His eyes reddened, and he pulled out a wad of cash from his pocket—ten thousand yuan that he had specifically withdrawn from the bank that day!
"Again!"
The game continues. Loss. Another loss. Continuing to lose.
Ten thousand yuan, like flowing water, was lost in less than two hours.
Zhao Qingda was sweating profusely, and his hands were trembling violently.
Unwilling to give up, he wrote another IOU and borrowed eight thousand.
Brother Leopard was very "generous" and said, "If Zhao Caishen asks, I'll lend him not just eight thousand, but eighty thousand!"
Eight thousand yuan lasted less than an hour before it was gone again.
Zhao Qingda slumped in his chair, his face deathly pale and his body drenched in sweat. His mind was blank, with only one number buzzing in his head: 18,000. He had lost 18,000 yuan today.
"Brother Qingda, wanna play some more?" Sansheng leaned over, still sporting that same smiling expression. "How about we call it a day? Let's take a break and come back another time?"
Zhao Qingda opened his mouth, but no sound came out.
He looked at the cards on the table and at the familiar yet unfamiliar faces around him, and suddenly felt that it was all a dream.
A nightmare that had been laid out all along, waiting for him to crawl into it.
He stood up unsteadily and walked outside.
Leopard Brother's voice came from behind: "Zhao Caishen, don't forget to pay back the IOU. Three days, interest as usual."
Zhao Qingda did not turn around.
He walked out of the warehouse and into the night.
The autumn wind blew by, making him shiver.
He thought of the money left in his bank card, and of the home he had smashed and then slowly tidied up by Wang Juan.
Suddenly, a metallic sweetness rose in his throat. He bent over and spat out a mouthful of blood.
The blood was dark red, and under the streetlights, it looked like a strange flower.
Zhao Qingda looked at the pool of blood and suddenly laughed, a laugh that was more painful than crying.
In the distance, a black Santana sat quietly in the shadows.
The car window was rolled down halfway, and Zhao Fei sat in the driver's seat, looking at the distraught figure with a calm and unwavering gaze.
He picked up his mobile phone and dialed a number.
"Hey, Sansheng. Thanks for your hard work, I'll send you the money tomorrow."
After hanging up the phone, Zhao Fei started the car and slowly drove away.
The car headlights pierced the night, illuminating the smooth road ahead.
This is just the beginning, Zhao Qingda.
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