Chapter 2: Lottery Ticket Secured, Divorce!

River Lyson walked along the bustling street, his heart pounding with steady strength inside his chest. The rage and wild loss of control he had shown at the restaurant had fallen away completely. Once the dizzying sensation of being reborn faded, only absolute calm remained. His mind held only one sequence of numbers. The same numbers that had been discussed throughout River City for an entire month in his previous life, numbers that had even appeared on the front page of the newspaper. After crossing two streets, he spotted a small storefront with a faded red-and-white sign that read "Welfare Lottery." The shop was tiny. Two folding tables stood inside, where several bare-chested middle-aged men hunched over scraps of paper, scribbling calculations with pencils. Their furrowed brows looked as if they could crush flies. Behind the counter, the shopkeeper lazily waved a palm fan while half-listening to a radio storytelling program by Terrence Dackombe. River walked straight to the counter, pulled a wrinkled twenty-cent bill from his trouser pocket, and pressed it beneath the glass. "Boss, one Double Color Ball ticket." The shopkeeper did not even raise his eyelids. He lazily pulled over a Betting Slip. "Machine pick or choose your own numbers?" "I'll choose them myself." River's voice remained steady, neither hurried nor slow. "Red Ball numbers: 05, 12, 16, 24, 27, 31. Blue ball, 08." The shopkeeper's fingers paused over the keyboard. He looked up and gave River a sideways glance. The young man wore a white T-shirt washed yellow with age and looked poor enough. Yet he had rattled off the numbers without a single hesitation. His fixed gaze carried a strange intensity. "Twenty cents. Young man, want to add a few more bets? The Jackpot is up to five hundred thousand dollars today." The shopkeeper made the habitual sales pitch, secretly sneering. Another penniless fool dreaming of getting rich overnight. He could not even scrape together enough money for a second ticket. "No need. One ticket is enough." For the Grand Prize, one ticket was enough to empty the Jackpot. The thermal printer buzzed. A Lottery Ticket, still warm from the machine, slid across the counter. River pinched the thin slip between his fingers. Its rough texture spread from his fingertips through his entire body. Five hundred thousand dollars. In 2000, a spacious apartment in downtown River City cost only a little over ten thousand dollars. He carefully folded the Lottery Ticket, tucked it into the inner pocket of his shirt over his heart, and turned to lift the door curtain. He had barely stepped out of the alley where the lottery shop stood when two hurried pairs of footsteps chased after him. "River Lyson! Stop right there!" May Lapwood ran after him in a pair of cheap high heels, gasping for breath. Sweat had smeared the makeup across her face. Leo Zimmerman followed close behind. His imitation Pierre Cardin suit hung open at the chest, and he wheezed heavily from the run. Leo grabbed River by the arm and forced a brotherly smile onto his face. "River, you went way too far with that drunken rampage today! Tearing up the Transfer Agreement was one thing, but what the hell were you babbling about in the private room?" "Your sister-in-law... No, May Lapwood's reputation matters too, doesn't it? Come on, come back with me and apologize to my father. We can still negotiate over the ten thousand dollars." River lowered his gaze to the hand gripping his arm. In his previous life, that same hand had held a wineglass and forced the poison that killed him down his throat. "Let go." His voice was quiet, but it held not a trace of warmth. Leo froze. An inexplicable jolt ran through him. The River Lyson standing before him was clearly the same pathetic childhood friend as always, yet that gaze sent a chill down his spine. He instinctively released River's arm. Seeing this, May immediately put on an expression of utter misery. Her eyes reddened, and her voice caught in her throat. "River Lyson, what are you trying to do? I know the ten-thousand-dollar debt has you under pressure, but you can't take it out on me! Do you have to drive me to my death before you'll be satisfied? Do you want the whole family sleeping in the streets?" Several passersby had already stopped. They pointed and whispered among themselves. May secretly savored the moment. River cared most about his pride. As long as she cried and made a scene, he would surely soften and obediently apologize. Once he apologized, she would coax him back and get him to sign the papers. Then she and Leo would finally have the life they wanted. "Sleeping in the streets?" River watched her clumsy performance and gave a cold scoff. "May Lapwood, drop the act. I'll say this only once. Go to the Civil Affairs Bureau and get our Divorce Certificates. Today. Immediately." May's sob caught in her throat. "You... What did you say? You want a divorce?" Her eyes widened, and her voice rose into a shrill screech. "River Lyson, have you lost your mind? All this over your ridiculous paranoia?" "Paranoia?" River took one step forward and lowered his voice until only the two people before him could hear. "May 3, two in the afternoon. The abandoned warehouse No. 2 at the machinery factory. You were wearing that pink shirt, and Leo Zimmerman had you pinned against the old machinery crates." He paused, the corners of his mouth lifting slightly. "And I wasn't the only one who saw it. Do you want me to bring them to the director of the Subdistrict Office and describe every detail?" After their divorce in his previous life, May had deliberately provoked him by telling him the entire story to his face. She had even included the time, the place, and what she had been wearing. She had never imagined those details would become the blade that finished her in this life. The color drained from Leo's face. His knees went weak, and he nearly collapsed to the ground. How did River know? The warehouse had been locked that day. There was no way anyone nearby could have seen them! May trembled violently. Her lips quivered, but for a long moment, she could not force out a single word. It was over. He was not bluffing. He really knew everything, and there had been other witnesses. River studied their ashen faces without showing the slightest extra emotion. "Three-thirty this afternoon, outside the Civil Affairs Bureau. If you don't show up, the River City Daily might not print the story tomorrow morning. But the details of what you did in that warehouse will be written across big-character posters and plastered throughout every tube building family compound at the machinery factory." "Your parents, living all the way out in the countryside, will receive copies as well." With that, River turned without sparing them another glance and walked toward the end of the street. At four in the afternoon, outside the River City Civil Affairs Bureau, the two red booklets were exchanged for two Divorce Certificates. May clutched her Divorce Certificate so tightly that her knuckles turned white. Only then did she finally tear away her mask of helplessness. "River Lyson, don't you dare regret this!" She glared at his back, her voice shrill and venomous. "What do you think you are? Your family's lousy factory can't even pay its workers anymore, and you still owe ten thousand dollars in loans! The bank will come seal the doors tomorrow! Without Leo's ten thousand dollars, your parents won't even have enough money to buy rat poison!" "You think you'll live well without me? Hah! Even if you get down on your knees and beg me someday, I won't spare you a second glance!" River did not turn his head. He only threw back one sentence. "Don't worry. You'll never see that day." He hailed a Fiat Seicento taxi and sped away. May remained where she stood, trembling with rage. Yet beneath it all, an inexplicable emptiness opened in her chest. Half an hour later, River reached River City Old Town and the tube building family compound. The stairwell reeked of damp mildew, mingled with the smell of cheap soybean oil from a neighbor's cooking and the bitter scent of traditional medicine. Large patches of plaster had fallen from the walls, exposing the blackened red bricks beneath. River pushed open the creaking wooden door. The space, less than forty square meters, had been divided into two and a half rooms. The cramped living room could hold only a battered spring sofa and a chipped coffee table. His father, Mason Lyson, sat hunched on the sofa with a twenty-cent Hilton cigarette between his fingers. The spittoon at his feet was already stuffed with cigarette butts. Behind a cloth curtain, his mother coughed violently. On the shoe rack by the door sat his younger sister Renee Lyson's old Warrior sneakers, their soles worn completely smooth. At the sound of the door opening, Mason jerked his head up. His bloodshot eyes fixed on River. "You still know how to come home?" Mason slapped the coffee table, making the enamel teacup vibrate. "Uncle Zimmerman just called me! He said you went on a drunken rampage, tore up the Transfer Agreement, and beat up Leo and the others!" Mason shook with fury as he pointed at River's nose. "That ten thousand dollars is what keeps us alive! Tomorrow is the final deadline. If we can't produce the money, the bank will take the house. Are the four of us supposed to starve in the streets? Do you really want to drive me into my grave?" River walked to the sofa. Unlike before, he did not lower his head and silently take the scolding. He reached out, took the half-smoked cigarette from his father's trembling fingers, and crushed it hard in the ashtray. "Dad." River looked at his father's graying hair, his voice calm and even. "The machinery factory is the work of your entire life. You know better than I do what kind of people Victor Zimmerman and his son are. Selling the factory to them would be like handing a lamb to a tiger." "What about the ten thousand dollars in debt?" Mason shouted, his eyes rimmed red. "I'll repay it." Mason fell silent. He stared at the son standing before him. It was still the same familiar face, but the straight back and the calm certainty in River's eyes made him look nothing like a young man barely into his twenties. He looked more like someone who had spent half a lifetime fighting his way through the business world. "How are you going to repay it? What could you possibly use to repay it?" "I have a friend down south who owed me a favor from an old business deal." River lied without the slightest crack in his composure. "I've already contacted him. Tomorrow, I'll put ten thousand dollars in cash on this table, every dollar of it." He placed both hands on his father's shoulders, bent slightly, and met his eyes directly. "Dad, trust me this once." "Until tomorrow, no matter how the Zimmerman family, father and son, try to threaten or tempt you, do not sign a single thing." "If the sky falls, I'll hold it up."