Tòumíng remained on his knees on the pavement, the weight of loss crushing down on him. His bike. His two-thousand-eight-hundred-yuan electric bike that he'd only owned for a week. Gone. Stolen by a femboy with great legs and even better theft tactics.
How was he going to afford another one? That was almost three months of his old mining salary. He'd have to save up for weeks, maybe months, going back to walking everywhere like some kind of—
Wait.
He had one hundred ninety-five thousand yuan.
Fifty thousand in cash currently distributed across his body, and one hundred forty-five thousand sitting in his Alipay account, real and spendable and definitely enough to buy another bike. Multiple bikes. Like twenty bikes if he wanted to start a bike collection or something.
The crushing despair evaporated instantly, replaced by the manic realization that this was, at most, a minor inconvenience.
Tòumíng stood up, brushing dirt off his already filthy designer pants. His eyes landed on the sign still lying on the ground. "PLEASANT SURPRISE - HAPPY ENDING" glared up at him in cheerful handwriting.
He picked it up. Flipped it over.
On the back, written in the same handwriting, was a phone number with a little heart drawn next to it.
Tòumíng pulled out his phone and took a picture of the number.
"Oh my god," Cupid's voice was thick with amusement. "You're keeping it. You're actually keeping the number."
"I'm just documenting evidence," Tòumíng said defensively, carefully angling the photo to make sure the number was clearly legible.
"Evidence. Right. That's why you're zooming in to make sure you got all the digits."
"I need to text him about getting my bike back."
"Uh-huh."
"That's the only reason."
"Sure it is."
"I mean it!" Tòumíng shoved the phone back in his pocket, his face warming. "I'm just going to send a message asking for my property back. That's it. Nothing else."
"You're going to text the femboy who flashed you and stole your bike."
"To get my bike back!"
"The bike you can replace twenty times over with your current bank account."
"It's the principle of the thing!"
Cupid made a sound that might have been a laugh or might have been profound disappointment. Possibly both. "You're in love. Oh man, this is going to be entertaining to watch."
"I am NOT in love! I don't even—I didn't even know that was possible before five minutes ago! My entire understanding of gender and attraction just got scrambled and I'm processing, okay?"
"Processing by saving the number."
"SHUT UP!"
Several passersby looked at him strangely a coal-covered teenager standing in the middle of the entertainment district holding a sign about happy endings and screaming at no one visible.
Tòumíng dropped the sign back on the ground and started walking. His apartment was only about fifteen minutes away on foot, which was manageable even if it meant his legs would be screaming by the time he arrived. The stab wounds from two weeks ago were mostly healed but walking long distances still pulled at the scar tissue.
The entertainment district gradually gave way to more residential areas. Cheaper buildings, student housing, the kind of neighborhood where people minded their own business because everyone had their own weird shit going on.
Fourteen minutes later, Tòumíng stood in front of his building. Ground floor unit, window facing the street, actual working lock on the door. Still felt surreal every time he came home to realize this was his now. Not a coffin-sized room with leaking walls, but an actual apartment with space to move and breathe.
He unlocked the door—with an actual key that worked in an actual lock—and stepped inside.
The apartment was small but functional. Twenty square meters total, which sounded tiny until you'd spent three years in a three-by-three meter box. A twin bed with a real frame and real mattress. A small TV mounted on the wall. A table with two chairs even though he never had guests. A kitchenette with a rice cooker he'd used twice. Piles of clothes he'd bought and never worn. Shoe boxes still unopened. The accumulated debris of someone with sudden money and zero impulse control.
Tòumíng kicked off his shoes, leaving them by the door, and made his way to the bed. He sat on the edge, feeling the day's exhaustion catch up with him all at once. Seven hours of mining. Finding a massive geode. Condensing it into a tiny crystal worth over two hundred thousand yuan. Selling it. Getting flashed by a femboy. Losing his bike to said femboy.
It had been a day.
He pulled out the cash from his pockets and fanny pack. Five rubber-banded stacks of ten thousand yuan each, the bills crisp and real and beautiful. Fifty thousand yuan in physical money, something he could hold and touch and verify wasn't just numbers on a screen.
Tòumíng set the stacks carefully on his bedside table, arranging them in a neat pile. The rubber bands were tight, professional, the kind banks used. Each stack was exactly one centimeter thick, one hundred bills of one hundred yuan each.
He sat there for a moment, just looking at them. At the physical representation of a day's work that had netted him more money than he used to make in two years of mining.
His phone buzzed in his pocket.
For a brief, insane moment, he thought maybe it was the femboy. Maybe he'd texted first. Maybe—
No, it was just a notification from his gacha game. A new character banner had dropped. Limited time only. Guaranteed five-star pull if you did thirty summons.
Tòumíng looked at the notification. Looked at the money on his bedside table. Looked at his phone showing one hundred forty-five thousand yuan in his Alipay account.
He should save it. Be responsible. Pay down debts. Build an emergency fund. Make smart financial decisions like a functional adult.
His thumb hovered over the gacha game notification.
Just one pull couldn't hurt.