Although the amount the man won wasn’t much, for someone like Arthur, who was always hungry, it felt like an impossible dream. He was filled with jealousy as he committed the winning numbers to memory. After a quick wash, Arthur grabbed a steamed bun from a street vendor and headed straight to the lottery shop. He was down to his last two bucks. That was all he had. Right now, his top priority was to scrape together some starting cash. With money in hand, he could finally set his plans into motion. The lottery shop was quite a distance from his school, and Arthur didn’t have the fare for a bus. Might as well call it a morning workout, he thought. After running for half an hour, he finally reached the shop, nearly collapsing from exhaustion. Despite being sixteen years old and expected to be bursting with energy, Arthur was far from it. Years of malnutrition had left him extremely thin, with his skin clinging to the bone. The long run had taken everything out of him. Gasping for breath, he approached the counter and handed over his last two dollars. Closing his eyes, Arthur summoned the numbers from memory and recited them to the middle-aged shopkeeper. The shopkeeper glanced at the crumpled bills in Arthur’s hand, then at his threadbare, faded clothes. He shook his head silently. A poor kid like this… wasting money on lottery tickets instead of focusing on school? What are the chances of winning, anyway? The shopkeeper wanted to say something, to give the boy some advice, but in the end, he held his tongue. I’m just running a shop to make ends meet. It’s not my place. He took the money, input the numbers into the computer, and handed Arthur the ticket. If I turn him away, he’ll just find another shop. What’s the point? Outside the shop, passersby couldn’t help but notice Arthur’s gaunt appearance. They shook their heads and whispered to each other. "Poor kid, spending his family’s hard-earned money on lottery tickets,” one sighed. “Exactly. He is quite young and has already developed a strong addiction to gambling. What kind of future does he have?” another muttered. “If his parents knew he was doing this, they’d be furious!” someone else added. A well-meaning woman approached Arthur. "Listen, son, you should go home and focus on your studies." Work hard, get into a good college. That’s how you’ll build a real future—not by chasing pipe dreams.”Inside the shop, a scruffy man in his thirties overheard and sneered. “Hey, maybe the kid’s got some luck. What if he actually wins?” “Yeah,” someone else chimed in. “You’re just jealous we might strike it big.” The regulars nodded in agreement. They came here every day, all hoping for a life-changing windfall. The woman outside was killing the vibe—and maybe even their luck. Not wanting trouble, the woman shook their heads and quickly left. Arthur ignored them all. He took the ticket and sat down to wait. The seconds dragged by, and his nerves started to fray. I think I got it right. I must’ve remembered correctly. But eight years… what if I’m wrong? He stared at the screen, barely blinking. Around him, other customers clutched their tickets, muttering their numbers like a mantra. The tension in the shop was palpable. With one minute left until the draw, everyone held their breath. Arthur’s heart pounded, his sweaty hands clenched into fists. Finally, the numbers started to roll. Just as the screen lit up, Arthur’s phone buzzed. He glanced at the screen. It was Julie. Great. Zac probably told her something again, and now she’s calling to chew me out. Without hesitation, Arthur declined the call. He didn’t have time for her. On the other end, Julie stared at her phone in disbelief. Did he just… hang up on me? He’d never done that before. No matter how harshly she scolded him, Arthur had always sat quietly and taken it. But now, he’d outright rejected her call. Anger bubbled up inside her. She glanced at the dormitory’s closed door, her brows furrowing. She’d come all the way to the school early on a Sunday to find him, even asking around for his dorm number. She needed to confront him—ask him what was going on. But he wasn’t in his dorm. Where could he have gone so early? Frustrated, Julie called again. And again. Arthur declined each call without hesitation. Finally, he’d had enough. He blocked her number. At last, there was silence. Arthur turned his attention back to the screen, his heart hammering in his chest. The numbers appeared one by one, agonizingly slow. Sweat drenched his palms, but he couldn't look away.