Chapter 4: I Don't Believe It

The slaughterhouse worker demanded an 88,000 yuan red envelope, but in the end, he didn't get a single cent.

Chen Feng, who drove away, did not call the police; the call he had made earlier was to 114.

He was nearly at death's door and didn't want to waste his time on such tedious disputes.

The drive back went smoothly, and he arrived at his rental apartment in less than an hour.

He took the bezoar out of his pocket, washed it in the bathroom, and then weighed it slightly in his hand. It was indeed about half a jin, or roughly 250 grams.

Even calculating at a price of 10,000 yuan per gram, this bezoar was worth 2.5 million yuan.

And clearly, the current price for natural bezoar was more than 10,000 yuan per gram.

Chen Feng took out his phone and searched online again, finding several news reports about bezoars.

In one news story, someone had auctioned a bezoar with a net weight of 320 grams two years ago, fetching a price of 8.9 million yuan.

That worked out to over 20,000 yuan per gram.

Of course, that was an auction price, which is generally higher than the market price. However, the two should be fairly close.

Moreover, that was the price from two years ago; the price now was certainly higher. Prices had risen sharply over the past two years, and the prices of traditional Chinese medicinal materials had risen across the board, with some individual items increasing several times over within a single year.

Since bezoar is also a type of traditional Chinese medicinal material, it was only natural that its price would rise as well.

Chen Feng planned to go to a traditional Chinese medicine shop tomorrow to ask about the price.

It was already getting late, and there was a large sheep he had just slaughtered waiting for him to eat.

He immediately opened the woven bag, took out the whole slaughtered sheep, and set it down in the kitchen.

Afterward, Chen Feng went back out to his car to retrieve an induction cooker, an electric pressure cooker, a cutting board, a kitchen knife, pots, bowls, and various seasonings like oil, salt, soy sauce, and vinegar—all of which he had bought at a supermarket on the way back, packed in two large plastic bags.

Back in the rental, Chen Feng began to busy himself in the kitchen. It was simple: first, he stewed the mutton in the pressure cooker. He chopped the fresh, fatty mutton into chunks, put them into the pressure cooker with seasonings, added water, and let it stew.

While the mutton was stewing, Chen Feng went back to the car to carry in a bag of rice and a rice cooker, and got the rice cooking as well.

In less than half an hour, the mutton was done. The whole room was filled with the aroma of stewed mutton. He scooped some out and took a bite; it was truly delicious, tasting much better than the mutton bought at the wet market.

He started with a large bowl of stewed mutton, eating until his mouth was glistening with grease, then scooped a bowl of white rice and finished it off with the mutton soup and meat.

Although he was terminally ill, his appetite remained quite large, and there was no sign of his weight dropping.

His weight had been steadily increasing for a year. At 1.78 meters tall, his original weight of 146 jin was considered standard, but now he weighed 170 jin—he was definitely a chubby guy.

Being able to eat is a blessing. Especially for Chen Feng, who didn't have long to live.

He ate another bowl of rice before letting out a satisfied burp, ending his dinner.

There was still a small portion of stewed mutton left in the pressure cooker, which he saved for a late-night snack.

It was only a little past six in the evening. There was no TV in the rental, and he hadn't moved his old desktop computer over yet. It was truly boring.

He picked up his phone, but there was no Wi-Fi, and using mobile data to play games was clearly not something a "big spender" would do. He would have to get broadband installed tomorrow.

So, Chen Feng decided to go out for a stroll to help digest his meal.

He didn't drive. Just as he walked out of the residential complex gate, he saw a digital store across the street holding some kind of "Double Ten" lucky draw event. It was the evening rush hour, and it was quite lively.

Thinking that he actually needed a high-spec laptop, he went over to take a look.

Crossing the street and entering the shop, he saw a dozen people gathered together, staring at red envelopes hanging from colorful balloons in the display case. One person pointed at a red envelope, and the shop owner took it down and opened it; inside was a slip of paper with a prize written on it: a pair of Bluetooth earphones.

Chen Feng stood and watched for a while, eventually understanding the rules. If you spent over 2,000 yuan in this computer shop, you got a chance to draw from the red envelopes hanging on the balloon strings.

A sign stated that the lowest-priced gift inside was a USB drive worth several dozen yuan, and the grand prize was a laptop worth over 10,000 yuan.

In other words, everyone who participated in the draw was guaranteed a prize.

Earlier, someone had won a smartphone worth five or six thousand yuan, which had attracted a large crowd and many participants.

There were even a few strangers who had discussed pooling their money together to reach the 2,000-yuan spending threshold to draw together.

Chen Feng had originally come to look at laptops, but seeing this, he decided to buy himself a phone first.

His current phone was one Shen Lin had given him when they got married. Two years had passed, and although it still worked, it was a bit outdated.

Thinking of the bezoar in his hand, he wasn't short on money now, so he went over to the phone counter and looked around. He quickly chose the latest Huawei model, costing over 5,000 yuan, which drained his previous small savings.

In the past, Chen Feng would have been reluctant, but now that he was terminally ill and had a bezoar worth millions in his possession, this little expense was just a drop in the bucket.

After buying the phone, Chen Feng earned two chances to draw a red envelope.

There were two large piles of colorful balloons, with about fifty or sixty red envelopes hanging from the red strings dangling below.

The odds of drawing the grand prize laptop from these fifty or sixty envelopes weren't actually that low—one in fifty or sixty—which was much more reliable than buying a lottery ticket.

It was no wonder the shop was so crowded; everyone was smart, and the winning probability was quite high.

However, the shop owner certainly wouldn't lose out.

As Chen Feng prepared to choose his envelopes, the onlookers crowded around again.

"I'll take these two." Chen Feng casually pointed at two envelopes hanging at the very front; he wanted to test his luck again.

It seemed that ever since his divorce, his luck had started to turn. First, he had picked up a winning scratch-off ticket out of thin air, and then he had gotten a bezoar while trying to buy a sheep to eat.

He didn't believe that he could win a grand prize again just by randomly pointing at two envelopes.

The shop owner opened the first envelope, and several bright red bills came into everyone's view.

Someone shouted, "Holy crap! It's straight-up cash. How many are there?"

"This luck is too good. Looks like five or six bills."

The shop owner was also surprised. She pulled out the red bills and counted them—there were eight, totaling 800 yuan.

What luck!

Everyone was envious and jealous.

A middle-aged man, in particular, said with regret, "I was going to pick this envelope earlier, but I ended up changing to another one and only won a power bank."

The shop owner said helplessly, "I didn't even know there were cash envelopes; my husband must have put them in."

Chen Feng took the 800 yuan in cash, feeling slightly dazed. It seemed his luck really had turned.

But having one stroke of good luck after another made it feel somewhat unreal.

"Open the second one and see," someone urged.

"Yeah, open it and see."

Seeing that Chen Feng didn't object, the shop owner opened it, pulled out the slip of paper inside, and stared at it, suddenly stunned.

"Boss, what's the prize? Take it out!" someone urged again.

Someone noticed the look on the shop owner's face and teased, "Boss, it wouldn't be the grand prize, would it? Are you reluctant to give it away?" Once this was said, everyone realized what was happening. Especially those who hadn't won a big prize earlier, they all began to urge her.

With so many people watching, the shop owner could only pull out the slip of paper with a bitter face. On it were the handwritten words "Laptop," written clearly in red felt-tip pen. At the bottom, there were even "security codes" that only the shop owner and her husband knew, so it couldn't be faked.

But she remembered that she had already taken this envelope out! How did it end up hanging back up there?

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(End of chapter)