Chapter 4 I Don’t Believe It

Words : 1502 Updated : Sep 10th, 2025

Chapter 4: Chapter 4 I Don’t Believe ItThe slaughterhouse worker wanted an 88,000 red envelope, but ultimately didn’t get a dime. As Chen Feng drove away, he didn’t call the police. The call he made earlier was to 114. He was close to dying and didn’t want to waste time on these trivial disputes. The return journey went smoothly, and in less than an hour, he was back in his rented room. He took the bezoar out of his pocket, went to the restroom to wash it, then held it in his hand and weighed it. It did indeed weigh nearly half a jin, about 250 grams. Even calculated at a price of 10,000 per gram, the bezoar was worth 2.5 million. And clearly, the price of natural bezoars was more than 10,000 per gram. Chen Feng pulled out his phone and searched online again, finding some news reports about bezoars. In one news report, someone had auctioned off a 320-gram bezoar two years ago for 8.9 million. That amounted to over 20,000 per gram. Of course, that was the auction price, which is generally higher than the market price. However, the two should be close. Moreover, that was the price two years ago—the price now is definitely higher. Over the past two years, prices have soared significantly, and the price of medicinal herbs, in particular, has generally risen, with some increasing several times within a year. Bezoars, being a type of medicinal material, naturally followed this price increase. Chen Feng planned to visit a Chinese medicine shop tomorrow to inquire about the price. It was already late today, and there was also a freshly slaughtered big white sheep waiting for him to eat. He immediately opened the woven bag, lifted out the slaughtered whole sheep, and placed it in the kitchen. Then, Chen Feng went out to the car and brought in an induction cooker, an electric pressure cooker, a chopping board and knife, pots and pans, and some seasonings like oil, salt, soy sauce, and vinegar, all bought from a supermarket on the way home, stored in two large plastic bags. Back in the rented room, Chen Feng began to get busy in the kitchen. It was simple—he first stewed the lamb in the pressure cooker, chopping the plump fresh meat into pieces, adding seasonings, and letting it stew with water. While the lamb stewed, Chen Feng carried a bag of rice and a rice cooker back from the car and started cooking the rice as well. In less than half an hour, the lamb was ready, filling the house with its aroma. He served it and took a bite—the taste was indeed delicious, noticeably better than the lamb bought from the market. He started with a large bowl of stewed lamb, his mouth greasy as he then ladled himself a bowl of white rice, enjoying it with the lamb and broth. Despite his terminal illness, his appetite remained hearty, and his weight showed no sign of decreasing. A year ago, his weight started to increase continuously. Originally, at a height of 1.78 meters and weighting 146 pounds, he was considered standard weight, but now he was a solid 170 pounds—a proper fatty. Being able to eat was a blessing, especially for Chen Feng, who didn’t have long to live. After another bowl of rice, he belched contently, marking the end of his dinner. There was still about half of the stewed lamb left in the pressure cooker, saved for a late-night snack. It was just past six o’clock in the evening. There was no television in the rented room, and his old desktop computer hadn’t been moved over. It was quite boring. He picked up his phone—there was no WiFi, and using data to play games clearly wasn’t so lavish. He would need to sort out broadband tomorrow. Thus, Chen Feng decided to go out and stroll around, to help digest his meal. He didn’t drive. Just as he stepped out of the residential area’s gate, he saw a digital store across the street hosting a "Double Ten Lottery" event. It was bustling with people leaving work at dusk. Thinking he needed a high-end laptop, he went to take a look. Crossing the street and entering the store, he saw about a dozen people gathered around, staring at the envelopes hanging from colored balloons on the counter. One person pointed to an envelope, and the female owner took it down, opened it, and revealed a paper inside with a prize—a Bluetooth headset. Chen Feng watched for a while and understood the deal. It was a lottery opportunity in the computer store for every purchase over 2,000 yuan, represented by the envelopes hanging on the lines of the colorful balloons. The signs indicated that the lowest-priced gift inside was a USB flash drive worth a few dozen yuan, and the highest prize was a laptop worth over ten thousand yuan. That is to say, as long as you participate in the lucky draw, everyone will get a prize. Previously, someone here won a fruit phone worth five to six thousand, drawing a lot of people to watch and participate. Even a few people who didn’t know each other discussed pooling together two thousand in expenses to enter the draw together. Chen Feng originally wanted to check out laptops, but seeing the situation, he decided to buy himself a new phone first. His current phone was a gift from Shen Lin when they got married; two years had passed, and although the phone still worked, it was somewhat outdated. Thinking about the bezoar in his possession, he wasn’t short on money and headed over to the mobile phone counter, quickly choosing the latest Huawei model for over five thousand, which completely drained his previous savings. In the past, Chen Feng wouldn’t have borne it, but now, given his short remaining lifespan and the bezoar worth millions in his hands, this expenditure was a mere trifle to him. After buying the phone, Chen Feng earned two chances to draw a red envelope. Colorful balloons were in two large clusters overhead, with nearly fifty to sixty red envelopes tied to dangling red strings. The odds of drawing the laptop as the top prize from these fifty to sixty red envelopes weren’t too low, roughly one in fifty or sixty, much more reliable than buying a lottery ticket. No wonder there were so many people gathered in the store; everyone was clever, realizing the high chances of winning. But the store owner definitely wouldn’t lose out. As Chen Feng went to choose a red envelope, the crowd of onlookers gathered around again. "Let’s go with these two," Chen Feng casually pointed to two red envelopes hanging in the front, wanting to test his luck again. It seemed that since his divorce, his fortunes had started to turn. Firstly, he had randomly found a winning scratch card, and then, when he wanted to buy a sheep to eat, he had obtained a valuable bezoar. He didn’t believe that casually choosing two red envelopes this time would bring him another big prize. The shop owner first opened one red envelope, revealing several bright red bills to everyone’s sight. Someone exclaimed, "Oh my! Directly handing out cash huh? How many?" "The luck is too good. Looks like five or six there." The shop owner, too, was surprised and pulled out the bills, counting a total of eight bills—eight hundred yuan. What luck! Everyone was filled with envy. Especially a middle-aged fat man who regretfully said, "I was originally going to pick this envelope, but I hesitated and chose another one, only drawing a power bank." The shop owner somewhat helplessly said, "I didn’t even know there were cash prizes; it must have been my husband who put them in." Chen Feng took the eight-hundred-yuan cash envelope, feeling slightly stunned; it felt like his luck had truly changed. But these continuous strokes of good luck felt somewhat unreal to him. "Hurry up and open the second one," someone urged. "Yeah, hurry up and see." Upon seeing Chen Feng not objecting, the shop owner opened it and glanced at the slip inside, freezing in shock. "Shop owner, what’s the prize? Quick, take it out," someone urged again. Observing the shop owner’s expression, someone teased, "Shop owner, it’s not the grand prize, is it? You don’t want to give it away?" With that remark, everyone else caught on, especially those who hadn’t won the grand prize previously; they all urged her on. With so many people watching, the shop owner had no choice but to grimace and pull out the slip, on which a few handwritten words for a laptop computer were clearly written in red watercolor, along with a few "anti-fraud codes" only her and her husband knew, impossible to counterfeit. She just remembered that she had already picked up this red envelope! How did it get hung up again?

Chapter 4 I Don’t Believe It

Comments (0)