“Ugh—” He couldn’t help but throw up.
“Sir, are you feeling better?” Mr. Chen, who was beside him, passed him a bottle of water. Zhang Run quickly rinsed his mouth, feeling a bit more awake. After hesitating for a moment, he finally said, “Mr. Chen, please take them home first. I’ll go back myself later.”
“But…” Mr. Chen, an honest man, saw how drunk Zhang Run looked and felt it was unsafe for him to go back alone. He quickly added, “How about I take them all home and then come back for you?”
Zhang Run nodded a few times absentmindedly, washed his face with some water, awkwardly stood up, waved his hand, and walked towards the dance hall again.
After lying in the noisy dance club for a while, he had thrown up and was almost sober. Glancing at his watch under the flashing red and green lights, he realized it had nearly been an hour, and Mr. Chen still hadn’t returned.
He was too lazy to wait.
Shaking his slightly dizzy head, Zhang Run pulled out his keys, went downstairs, and hopped on his motorcycle.
He rode steadily down the road.
It was a cold night, and there were hardly any people wandering about; everyone seemed to have gone to bed early.
After riding for a while and passing through the necessary streets to get home, Zhang Run, guided by the weak light from his motorcycle, noticed two cars almost touching each other ahead, their lights still on, yet they weren’t moving.
“Why does that look familiar…” he muttered, riding closer. He saw the smashed front of one car and a familiar figure slumped over, bloodied and unconscious, along with a steel pipe sticking out of the passenger seat.
The driver of the other truck also showed no signs of movement, leaving his condition uncertain.
“Mr. Chen?!” The last trace of alcohol faded completely.
Zhang Run’s mouth dropped open in horror as he stopped his motorcycle, not even having time to take the key out before the motorcycle fell. His legs went weak, and his heart raced as he looked at the passenger seat.
Trembling, he pulled out his cell phone and called his parents, his voice shaking and tinged with a hint of tears: “Dad—”
“I almost died! Mr. Chen was in a car accident…”
Ever since the reform and opening up, Zhang Run’s parents had gone to big cities to build their careers. With their significant assets, they quickly made a lot of money and earned the title of the richest in Lin City.
They had only Zhang Run as their son, and they treasured him immensely. Hearing that he had narrowly escaped a car accident, his parents bought train tickets the next day to rush back.
After sitting on the train for over ten hours, they finally arrived home.
Zhang Run had someone take Mr. Chen and the other driver to the hospital. Fortunately, their injuries weren’t serious, and they just needed to recuperate for a month or two.
Just when the time the master mentioned hadn’t come yet, Zhang Run stayed home obediently. That night, he didn’t even dare to ride his motorcycle back; he walked home instead.
Despite his tall stature, he was quite timid. While walking, tears ran down his face, leading the family’s housekeeper to worry he had been beaten.
When Zhang Run’s parents returned home and learned what had happened, they held their son tightly, shaken by how close he had come to disaster. If something had gone wrong, that steel pipe could have ended his life.
“Fortunately, I suddenly remembered what the master said that night. Feeling nauseous, I decided to get off the motorcycle and let Mr. Chen drop off the others before coming back for me. Who would have thought that right after he dropped them off, he would have this accident?” Zhang Run chuckled awkwardly as he faced the worried looks from his parents. It had been nearly two days, and he had recovered. Thankfully, he was okay.
What a stroke of luck.
“Where does that master live? We should visit him to see if you have truly escaped this calamity,” Zhang’s father said. Although he hadn’t believed much in such things before, he still held onto the traditional Chinese saying: better to believe than to not believe.
They figured it would be worth a visit—who knows, the master might really be someone special.
“Yeah, we should definitely thank him!” Zhang Run’s mother added, embracing her son. She had been so anxious on the journey back that she nearly panicked.
Zhang Run scratched his head, feeling a bit embarrassed as he stuttered, “…Uh… under the bridge… but I’m not sure if he’s still there…”
Zhang’s father glanced at his watch—it was just past three in the afternoon, with still two or three hours until dark.
“Then let’s tidy up and find this master. We can treat him to a meal.”
……
Meanwhile, Lin Ya still sat at the bridgehead, a table in front of him. Besides a wooden box for collecting money and a fortune-telling sign, there was nothing else on it—just an empty space that made the other vendors laugh at his lack of showmanship.
At least fortune tellers would display some turtle shells or copper coins for divination; he didn’t even seem to know how to tell fortunes, and looking so young didn’t help his credibility.
No wonder he hadn’t made a profit after several days. That wooden box still held only a few coins that kind-hearted folks had given him.
Just a couple of cents.
Lin Ya wasn’t bothered, as he knew riches would come soon; he couldn’t care less about such small change.
He just needed to get back quickly as the New Year was in three days. With money and goods, he would return home just in time.
He remembered that the original owner of his body had left home that year, where besides a daughter, his wife was also seemingly pregnant, although he didn’t know whether it would be a son or a daughter.
However, he recalled that his original self had been imprisoned, and there seemed to have been a notification sent to his elder brother. So, his parents and family should know, yet they hadn’t bothered to visit over the years. He wondered what they thought of him.
If they were disappointed or resentful, he could just leave the money for them and go elsewhere.
“Can you tell fortunes?” A weary, old voice came from across the table. An elderly man sat down with dim, dull eyes, looking utterly lacking in spirit.
Lin Ya lifted his head and, upon seeing the man’s face, immediately understood.
“I can tell fortunes. However, what you want to know may not be to your liking.” He clasped his hands in his sleeves, his short hair and sunglasses giving him a relaxed appearance amidst the soft aura surrounding him.
Upon hearing those words, the old man was first taken aback, then his eyes gradually lit up, only to dim again as he pondered the implications, his lips trembling: “I want to know… I want to know!”