The lottery ticket in Doug Feng's hand only matched a single number—08. That was it. Just one. And yet, his heart was bleeding.
Because he knew. He remembered every number correctly. He had bought the right tickets. He was sure of it. So where the hell were the winning tickets now?
"Where did they go? Think, Doug, think… That was one jackpot and fifteen second prizes!" he muttered under his breath, face pale as a ghost.
Beside him, Howie gave him a friendly slap on the back. "Dude, you're acting like you just lost your life's savings. Chill, it's just a lottery ticket. You're more likely to be struck by lightning than win anyway. Consider it good karma for your college entrance exam."
If only he knew.
Doug hadn't just missed out. He'd actually won big. But now those tickets—sixteen of them—were gone. Lost. Poof. That kind of bad luck could break a man.
"Wait… I remember stuffing them all into my right jeans pocket when I left the shop," Doug thought, retracing his steps in his mind. "Went to the hotel, didn't lose them there… Oh—right! On the way to Ms. Fang's place, I pulled them out when I tried to pay the cab fare. They were still there! Which means…"
His eyes widened.
"They must've slipped out in her bathroom when I was changing!"
The classroom bell rang before he could stew any longer, and the sound of clicking heels echoed from the hallway.
Ms. Fang entered, her polished red heels tapping sharply against the floor. She looked the same as always—elegant, composed, not a single strand of hair out of place. But Doug felt like he was seeing her through entirely new eyes after last night.
"Class, let's begin," she said, placing her materials on the podium. Her eyes swept the room and paused, ever so slightly, on Doug. Then she turned away as if nothing had happened.
"Please take out yesterday's mock exam. Today we'll go over the reading comprehension section."
As she dove into the lecture, explaining strategies to skim and scan efficiently, Doug sat there in turmoil. He couldn't focus on a single word.
Because this woman, who was now passionately teaching English reading techniques, was the same one who had—last night—accidentally locked him in her wardrobe while she changed clothes in front of it.
And she had no idea he might've seen anything.
Or did she?
Doug's mouth went dry. His brain had split in two—half of him feeling guilty as hell, the other half replaying that view through the wardrobe crack on loop.
He barely noticed when class ended, jolting upright only when Ms. Fang spoke directly to him.
"Doug Feng, come to the office with me."
Howie shot him a look. "Uh-oh. Bro, you finally did it. She's calling your parents, isn't she?"
Doug didn't answer. He just stood and followed Ms. Fang out of the classroom, head down like a condemned man walking the green mile.
When they reached the staff room, Doug was surprised to find no one else there. Just Ms. Fang. She walked to her desk, opened a drawer, and pulled out a small paper bag.
"Here," she said, handing it to him. "Fried dough sticks, rice cakes, and soy milk. You didn't get a chance to eat this morning, did you?"
Doug blinked. "I… no. I didn't."
"The soy milk's still warm," she added with a smile. "Sorry about earlier. My mom showed up unannounced. I had to get her out of the house before you could sneak away."
He took the bag slowly, a wave of warmth and guilt crashing over him. She had actually gone out of her way to buy him breakfast.
And what had he done in return? Peeped at her through a wardrobe crack like a perv.
"Thank you, Ms. Fang… really."
"You're welcome." She sat at her desk, fiddling with some student essays, her voice more hesitant now. "By the way, uh… when you were hiding in the wardrobe… you didn't happen to see… anything, did you?"
Doug's eyes went wide. "W-what? No! Of course not! I swear, I didn't peek!"
Ms. Fang raised an eyebrow. "Hmm? That's funny. I don't remember telling you I was changing clothes."
Doug froze.
Oh no.
She stood up, arms folded, staring him down. Her cheeks were flushed, but her eyes were sharp. "So you did see something, huh?"
"N-no! I mean—yes—I mean—I didn't mean to! It was the crack in the wardrobe! I didn't even try to look, it just… happened!" he stammered.
Just then, other teachers started entering the office. Ms. Fang's expression changed in an instant—her smile returned, but it was cold.
"This conversation is over. Not a word to anyone. Understood?"
Doug nodded rapidly, sweating bullets.
"You can go back to class."
"Yes, Ms. Fang. I'll—I'll go now."
He shuffled out of the office, heart pounding, breakfast bag clutched tightly in one hand. All the way back to his seat, he cursed himself for having such a dirty mind.
But no matter how hard he tried, he couldn't get the image of her slender waist, that soft curve of her back, out of his head.
"Damn it, Doug… pull yourself together," he muttered.
Easier said than done.