The Eight Million Ticket War

Introduction: Caution Ingrained in the Bone

This story is brought to you by Yen Hoa Cac. Enjoy your relaxing moments.

My name is Zhao Yu Jin. True to my name, prudence is carved into my very bones; it is the survival instinct I’ve had to cultivate against a world teeming with schemes and hidden dangers. Or, more accurately, I suffer from chronic persecutory delusion.

My life is a constant loop of checking and confirmation. Before leaving the house, I must check the lock three times. When the green light appears at the crosswalk, I still look left and right four times to ensure no runaway truck will suddenly appear and take my life. That same caution was pushed to its extreme last night.

The moment I realized I had won the 8.88 million yuan (the 8,888,000 special prize), instead of jumping for joy, I locked the bathroom door, opened my computer, and immediately created a new file: “Risk Assessment Report and Response Plan After Winning 8,880,000.”

The plan was a meticulous, branching maze:

• Branch 1: Relatives borrow money and default.

• Branch 2: An accident on the way to collect the prize.

• Branch 3: The lottery center plays tricks and refuses to pay.

• …

• Branch 18: The ticket is confiscated on the spot.

I prepared for everything, except for the sheer, suffocating tension of actually confronting a real-life conspiracy.

Today, the day I came to claim my prize, things unfolded exactly as I had anticipated.

Development: The “Fake Ticket” Scenario

At the bustling lottery center, my elation was instantly extinguished by the cold dismissal of the female clerk.

“We refuse to pay the prize,” she stated, her voice edged with clear distaste. “It’s a fake. The scanner can’t read it.”

I was stunned, a chilling sensation running down my spine. “That’s impossible. I only bought it yesterday. I watched it being printed right out of the machine. It can’t be fake!”

She sneered, her eyes sweeping contemptuously over my worn-out clothes: “Stop acting. You know whether it’s fake or not. Coming to the lottery center to scam people? Are you so desperate for money you’ve gone mad?”

A sense of ominous dread surged, my heart pounding. The plot truly had branched into Scenario 18.

“If you won’t cash it,” I choked back my anger, trying to keep my voice steady, “then give me back the ticket!”

The clerk laughed scornfully: “Give it back so you can take it somewhere else to try and cheat again? Dream on. Fake tickets will be confiscated. If you cause any more trouble, I’ll call the police.” With that, she summoned the security guard.

In that instant, my heart hammered like it was about to burst, yet I found myself smiling. She had no idea that I had mentally rehearsed situations like this at least 300 times.

Before the massive security guard’s hand could even reach my shoulder, I deliberately collapsed onto the cold, tiled floor. The chill of the floor was a welcome relief to my burning forehead.

“Assault! Security guards at the lottery center are assaulting people!” I yelled, my breath ragged, clutching my chest.

The center was crowded with people waiting to buy tickets or cash smaller prizes. Hearing my outcry, despite not wanting to get involved, their necks craned unconsciously toward the commotion.

The guard looked bewildered, his arm still hovering in the air: “Are you trying to fake an injury? I didn’t even touch you!”

“Don’t believe him, everyone!” The clerk pointed a sharp finger at me, her voice shrill. “This man brought a fake lottery ticket to commit fraud! When I exposed him, he tried to stage an injury! Scammers nowadays have no shame for money!”

“I am not trying to scam anyone! I bought that ticket at the authorized street vendor yesterday. I have the receipt, I have the transaction history!”

Gasping for air, I fumbled in my pocket for my phone, my hands shaking uncontrollably. “If you won’t honor the prize, then give me back my ticket! It belongs to me!”

The crowd began to murmur, and the tide slowly turned: “Even if the ticket is fake, they shouldn’t push a person down like that.” “Exactly. Just give him the ticket back. Why confiscate it?”

The clerk panicked. She had drastically underestimated the reaction of someone who lives perpetually on guard. To avoid being summarily dismissed, I had intentionally worn a faded t-shirt and worn-out sneakers today, projecting the image of an honest, struggling laborer.

“Which regulation?” I stopped my heavy breathing, looking directly at her, my voice low but startlingly clear. “Which law gives a merchant the right to unilaterally decide a customer’s goods are fake and confiscate them? Do you have the qualification for forensic appraisal? Are you a law enforcement agency?”

The crowd, roused by the legal angle, immediately backed me up. The situation had been reversed.

---

The manager, Wu Kai, arrived quickly. In under five minutes, a middle-aged man in a suit with slicked-back hair emerged from the inner office. He was rumored to have connections in both legitimate and illicit circles.

“What’s going on here? Arguing like this? It looks like a market!” Wu Kai first chastised the clerk, then offered me a smile, trying to appear impartial: “Sir, the floor is cold. Please stand up and let’s talk. We are a legitimate unit, and we absolutely do not bully our players.”

A master manipulator, truly a cunning fox! I thought. Softening the crowd first, building a respectable image.

I stood up, dusting off my pants.

“Real or fake? Words alone won’t suffice.” Wu Kai sighed, feigning fairness. “Where is the ticket? Let me take a look.”

The clerk handed the ticket to Wu Kai. He held it up to the light, then felt the texture of the paper.

“Sir,” Wu Kai placed the ticket on the counter, gently tapping its surface, his expression regretful. “This ticket indeed has a problem. The paper texture does not match the batch currently used by our center. Also, the anti-counterfeit code is flawed, easily spotted by an expert. Furthermore…” He paused, raising his voice slightly, “Furthermore, the series number on this ticket cannot be found in our system at all. In other words, this ticket was never issued.”

The crowd buzzed, turning on me again. “The number can’t be found? So it’s a stolen ticket?” “My God, he looked so honest, but he really made a fake!”

Wu Kai was clearly pleased with the effect, his eyes showing undisguised contempt. “Since it is a fake ticket, we must deal with it according to regulations.” He then casually slipped the 8.8 million yuan ticket into his pocket.

“Wait a minute!” I interjected, pulling out my phone and starting a video. “You said the system couldn’t find the number?”

This was the footage I took yesterday when buying the ticket. From the moment I paid, to the ticket printing, to me holding it in my hand—it was one continuous shot, unedited. The video clearly showed the printing time and the code of their very own store.

Wu Kai’s smile froze instantly. Who in their right mind records the process of buying a lottery ticket?

“The video could be fabricated, or shot under false pretenses,” Wu Kai said coldly, recovering his composure in a split second. “With today’s AI technology, face-swapping is possible, so faking a video is no big deal. Besides, how can you prove the ticket in the video is the same one you brought here now?”

Shameless! Utterly shameless!

“So, what do you want?” I asked.

“Nothing much.” Wu Kai shrugged. “To prevent you from taking a fake ticket elsewhere to commit further fraud, we are obligated to destroy this ticket.”

“You dare!” I shouted, lunging forward. The guard immediately stepped in front of me, pushing me back.

“What are you trying to do? Rob us?” the clerk shrieked.

“Call the police! I want to call the police!” I staggered backward, shouting myself hoarse.

“No need for you to call. I already have!” Wu Kai was faster than I was. He held up his phone.

The thief calling for the thief. He wanted to strike first, using the authority of the police to condemn me.

Climax: The “Sleeve of the Universe” Technique

Ten minutes later, two police officers walked in. Wu Kai put on his nice-guy face and greeted them: “Officers, there is a person here with a fake lottery ticket trying to commit a large-scale fraud, 8,888,000 yuan. After we exposed him, he tried to cause trouble.”

The lead officer, Zhang Zhengyi, was in his 40s, with a serious, composed demeanor.

“Is that you?” the officer asked me.

I stood up straight, presenting the prepared folder of evidence. “Officer, I came to claim my prize. Here is my ID, the video of me purchasing the ticket, the transaction history, and the audio recording of my conversation with the clerk…”

Officer Zhang watched the video, his brow furrowing. “Boss, how do you explain this video?”

Wu Kai waved a hand dismissively: “Officers, this video is spliced. Technology today… you know how it is. Moreover, even if he did buy a ticket here, it doesn’t prove the one he’s holding is the real one. He could have bought a real one, gone home, had a master counterfeiter create a perfect replica, and hidden the real one to claim the prize twice.”

The argument was airtight. As long as he insisted the ticket had been swapped or was a sophisticated counterfeit, my counterarguments were useless. Because the lottery ticket itself was the only physical evidence.

“How about this,” Officer Zhang said, feeling the pressure. “Hand over the ticket first. We’ll take it back for appraisal.”

“Of course, no problem. Cooperating with the police is our duty.” Wu Kai said, pulling the ticket from his pocket.

The moment he took it out, his wrist suddenly trembled. Tear. The 8.8 million yuan ticket ripped in half in his hands.

The entire hall fell silent.

“Oh no!” Wu Kai exclaimed dramatically, his hands falling limp, the two halves dropping to the floor. “I’m so sorry, I slipped! See how brittle it is? This proves it’s a fake ticket; it rips so easily!” As he spoke, he pretended to bend down to pick it up, his foot accidentally stepping on one half, grinding it into the floor.

It was over. Completely over. Even if it could be taped together, with that level of damage, it could never be redeemed.

“What are you doing?” Officer Zhang reacted, pushing Wu Kai away, but the damage was done. The ticket was now just scraps of paper.

Wu Kai looked at the officer innocently: “Officer, I truly didn’t mean to. Besides, it was just a fake ticket. Tearing it up prevents it from being used to harm others.”

Anger? No. My feeling at that moment was one of relief, like the long-awaited other shoe had finally dropped. They actually did it; it was exactly like Sub-Branch C of Scenario 18 I had imagined: destroying evidence with violence.

“Come with us.” Officer Zhang sighed, addressing me. “Now that the ticket is destroyed, the nature of the situation has changed. Regardless of whether it was real or fake, let’s go to the station to clarify everything first.”

Wu Kai feigned concern beside me, but I knew his eyes held a triumphant smirk. He knew that without the physical evidence, the 8 million yuan would become completely irrelevant to me.

I was escorted into the police car. Wu Kai got into another vehicle. As the police car pulled away, the female clerk stood on the steps, looking at me with a mocking expression.

The car was quiet. I took a deep breath and pulled out a second phone from my inner pocket. This phone was still connected to a call.

“Officer,” I spoke softly.

The driver looked at me through the rearview mirror. “What, regretting it now? Why make a fake ticket in the first place?”

“I didn’t make a fake ticket.” I raised the phone. The screen displayed a live streaming interface. Online viewers: over 100,000. Comments were flooding the screen: “Bastard! He tore the ticket right in front of everyone, so arrogant!” “That manager must be executed!”

The officer slammed on the brakes, the car swerving. “You’re live streaming?”

“I started live streaming the moment I walked through the door,” I said calmly. “And it’s not just a live stream.”

I swiped the screen and opened a clear photograph. “This is the result of the non-destructive testing and authenticity verification of the winning ticket, which I entrusted to the National Paper Quality Inspection Center and a third-party forensic appraisal agency yesterday afternoon.”

The officer’s eyes widened.

“And one more thing,” I played an audio recording. “This is the amplified version of the sound when Wu Kai reached into his pocket just now. You might not have heard it, but I did very clearly. Before ripping the ticket, he made a very slight hand movement—that is the ‘Sleeve of the Universe’ technique used in magic.”

I looked at the officer, a smile finally curving my lips.

“Officer, I’m actually a streamer specializing in exposing fraud. This operation wasn’t just for my 8.8 million. It was because a fan messaged me last month: his father won the second prize at this very store, and they used a similar trick to confiscate the ticket. The old man passed away from a cerebral hemorrhage due to anger. I came to demand justice for him.“

Officer Zhang Zhengyi was silent.

“Officer, can you turn the car around?”

“Why turn around?”

“The best part of the show is only halfway through.” I pointed to my chest. “The ticket that was torn just now? That was actually a fake I printed using high-level AI simulation technology. It looked identical, but it was indeed a fake ticket.”

The officer was completely bewildered. “Then where is your real ticket?”

I smiled without saying anything, gently slipping my hand under the insole of my left shoe.

Conclusion: The New Game Begins

When the police car returned to the lottery center, Wu Kai was already standing outside smoking.

“What’s the matter, Officers? Did the kid confess everything?” Wu Kai approached, his fake smile quickly returning.

“I came back to claim my prize,” I said calmly.

“Who says I don’t have a ticket anymore?” I bent down and untied the laces of my left sneaker. I pulled out a slightly sweaty lottery ticket from under the insole. “I made a mistake earlier. The torn one was a copy I printed at a shop as a souvenir. This is the original. Sorry, I have OCD. I always hide important things in the safest place.”

Wu Kai’s eyes bulged.

Officer Zhang Zhengyi stepped forward and took the ticket from my hand. “Manager Wu, check it again in front of everyone.”

Cornered, Wu Kai, despite his inability to tell real from fake, had to gamble. He had to bet that this second ticket was also a fake.

“T-this one is also a fake,” Wu Kai tried to sound calm. “He can make one fake, he can make two.”

“You said it was fake? Then use the machine to check it!” the officer prompted him.

Wu Kai, like a puppet, was pushed toward the scanner. He trembled as he inserted the ticket. In that moment, the entire hall seemed to hold its breath.

Beep!

The machine emitted a clear sound, and a large notification box popped up on the screen, accompanied by a cheerful sound effect: “Congratulations on winning! Special Prize: 8,888,000 Yuan.”

Thud! Wu Kai collapsed onto the floor. The crowd instantly erupted, camera flashes going off everywhere.

I stepped in front of Wu Kai: “Manager Wu, you claimed to be an expert who could tell real from fake with a glance. Why the mistake now?”

“The first ticket was definitely a fake!” Wu Kai struggled to salvage the situation.

“A fake?” I laughed coldly, opening the video I had pre-arranged to be captured by the HD camera across the street: Wu Kai picked up the torn ticket fragments, not throwing them into the trash, but carefully tucking the fragment with the QR code into his wallet.

“If you were so sure it was a fake, why keep the QR code fragment?” I pressed. Because with the complete QR code, even if the ticket is torn, you can still manipulate the system to claim the prize, or at least keep the funds tied up at this sales point, right?

Wu Kai’s face turned ashen.

The police officer took out handcuffs. “Wu Kai, you are suspected of misappropriating public funds, intentional destruction of property, and attempted fraud. Please come with us to cooperate with the investigation.”

The moment the handcuffs clicked, Wu Kai completely broke down.

The phone rang again; it was the anonymous number.

“You’re smart, kid. But the real game is just beginning.”

I looked into the camera of my live stream, my voice low: “Guys, this is just the start.” Wu Kai was just the manager; someone bigger was pulling the strings.

That evening, I checked into a cheap hotel directly across from the police station. The next morning, Officer Zhang Zhengyi came to see me in plain clothes.

“Wu Kai confessed, but he insists it was personal greed. He won’t reveal who’s behind him. Furthermore,” Zhang Zhengyi pointed to the ceiling, “higher-ups are involved. They want to wrap this up quickly, charge Wu Kai with ‘attempted fraud,’ and let the matter sink.”

“I am here to demand justice,” I handed him the victim’s father’s notebook. “This book records Wu Kai’s periodic transfers to several suspicious accounts. Trace these, and you’ll find the big fish behind him.”

Zhang Zhengyi’s expression grew heavier as he read. “This is highly dangerous. If this is true, it’s no longer just a lottery center issue. It could involve money laundering.”

“I am not afraid.” I pointed to my head. “Precisely because I suffer from persecutory delusion, I know better than anyone else: to avoid being swallowed by the darkness, the only way is to shine a light on it until the very end.”

Zhang Zhengyi looked at me for a long time, then slipped the notebook inside his jacket. “You have more guts than I do, kid. I will arrange for armed SWAT escort when you go to collect the prize this afternoon.”

At 2:00 PM, at the Welfare Lottery Center, I was clad in a mask, sunglasses, and a cap, accompanied by four fully armed SWAT officers. But the hall was filled with reporters.

This was their move: “drowning in the halo.” They wanted to expose me under the spotlight, so the whole world would know I owned 8.8 million, turning me into a mobile target for public greed.

After taxes, I received a check for over 7 million yuan. Escorted by the SWAT team, I returned home safely. I locked the three layers of doors and even hung a glass cup on the doorknob—an ancient but surprisingly effective alarm.

I opened my computer and created a new file: “Survival Guide and Risk Prevention in the Era of Multi-Million Property Ownership.”

The first line I typed was: Never trust today’s victory, for it may be the harbinger of tomorrow’s disaster.

I hit the Enter key, and suddenly, a loud noise echoed outside my window—like a car accident, but with the subtle undertone of an explosion.

My hand froze on the keyboard. My heart rate immediately soared, and that familiar emotion surged up again, like excitement.

The new game has begun.

I pulled a black tactical backpack from under the bed. I walked to the window and gently pulled the curtain aside. Downstairs, the police car lights were flashing. The beggar I had seen that morning, standing outside the boundary line, looked straight up at my room. He was holding a walkie-talkie.

A small smile curved my lips. It seemed that Response Plan No. 19 was now ready for use.

“Come at me,” I whispered, dropping the curtain.

I won’t be spending this 7 million on a villa or a supercar. I will use it to build an impenetrable fortress. An absolute safe haven for someone like me who suffers from persecutory delusion. Because in this insane world, only the mad can survive the longest.