The Honest Man’s Counterattack 2003

A taxi sped through the streets. Zhao Feng was drenched in sweat, his clothes soaked through. His heart pounded like a drum, the bald man's threats still ringing in his ears. He couldn't shake the fear—there was an unwritten connection among all the arcades in town.

In this day and age, without online chat groups or mobile messaging apps like WeChat, this kind of network seemed unbelievable.

Could it be that the dozens of arcades in the city were owned by the same boss? It sure seemed like that might be the case.

To have the power to monopolize every arcade in the city, the person behind it must be one of the top figures in town, with influence far beyond what Zhao Feng could imagine.

Filled with lingering fear, Zhao Feng made a firm decision: he would never play slot machines again. Even with his "Time Rewind" ability, it wasn't worth the risk. His power could only refresh once every 24 hours, and all it could do was provide an escape—not any kind of combat advantage.

What Zhao Feng didn't know was that his photo had already spread throughout the city, and he had been blacklisted by every arcade. The chance to pull in any more winnings from these machines was now gone forever.

Sitting in the front passenger seat, Jin Fugui turned to Zhao Feng and asked, "Feng-ge, where are we going to eat?"

"Didn't you want hot pot? Let's go to Sunday Hot Pot," Zhao Feng replied nonchalantly.

Sunday Hot Pot City.

In a private booth divided by screens, steam rose from a yin-yang hot pot. The table was filled with various ingredients and pre-prepared dipping sauces.

Jin Fugui, sweating profusely, guzzled iced soda while swishing slices of beef and lamb in the boiling broth. He ate with such gusto that juices dripped from his mouth, and he couldn't stop praising. "Feng-ge, you're incredible. Hitting 'Starry Sky' jackpots two days in a row—your luck is off the charts!"

Zhao Feng's expression remained dark as he replied, "It's not that simple. The arcade's money isn't easy to win. Someone's got their eyes on me now."

Jin Fugui put down his chopsticks, stunned. "No way. This was such a good way to make money. The workers at my family's distillery only make 300 yuan a month. You made 2,000 in just two days—that's like half a year of their salary."

Zhao Feng gave a bitter smile. "I know, but the bald boss already warned me. He even asked if I'd been at Wan Jia Arcade yesterday. These arcades are connected—maybe they're all owned by the same person."

Jin Fugui fell silent. After taking a sip of soda, he said seriously, "My dad mentioned this once. Apparently, all the arcades in the city are run by someone named Gao Laohu. He's a big shot—a 'local cannon' who can do whatever he wants in this town. Nobody dares mess with him."

Zhao Feng stirred the pot and thought about Gao Laohu, a notorious figure in his hometown. On the surface, Gao appeared to be a legitimate businessman, but in reality, he was involved in all kinds of shady activities. Backed by powerful connections, he had once ruled the city with an iron fist.

But during a nationwide crackdown, Gao became a high-profile target and was sentenced to prison, never to be released.

Back in the early 2000s, society was filled with idle youth. They talked about loyalty and brotherhood but were driven by money and women. They were bold and reckless, willing to gamble everything to make a name for themselves.

Some succeeded and became millionaires.

Some failed and ended up in prison, eating stale cornbread.

Others became disabled or disappeared into obscurity, lost in the tides of life.

In the north, these kinds of people were called "cannon fodder." In the south, they were labeled "scoundrels." The term "old cannon" arose to describe those who had grown infamous in this lifestyle over the years.

Zhao Feng sighed, "The college entrance exams are coming. No more arcades for me. Let's study together and aim to get into the same university."

Jin Fugui puffed up his chest and said proudly, "I'm the best student in our senior year's 'biggest guy' category—the legendary 'scholar fatso!' With your weak academic skills, Feng-ge, you've got a lot of catching up to do if you want to get into the same university as me."

"Ugh," Zhao Feng groaned, suddenly realizing the gravity of the situation. Jin Fugui was ranked in the top 20 on the school's honor roll, while Zhao Feng was dead last. Thanks to Zhao Feng's intentional distractions, Jin Fugui had avoided falling into online gaming addiction and had become the undisputed "scholar fatso" with grades far ahead of his own.

"If you've got questions about any problems, just ask me. Don't be shy," Jin Fugui said, brimming with confidence. "When I get home, I'll review the material and tutor you in English. There's no way I'm letting you fail the exams."

"Forget it, fatso. If I need a tutor, I'll go to Red-Crowned Crane instead," Zhao Feng retorted.

"Traitor!" Jin Fugui exclaimed, his face turning red. "You're abandoning me to chase after Red-Crowned Crane's long legs? You couldn't win over White Jiaxin, so now you're clinging to her instead?"

Hearing the name "Red-Crowned Crane," Jin Fugui exploded. She was a top-three student in the school rankings, a super scholar with a shot at Qinghua and Beida Universities. In front of her, Jin Fugui was nothing.

"Just you wait. Tomorrow, I'll go to her and ask her to tutor me in comprehensive subjects," Zhao Feng teased with a smirk.

"You shameless fool! Selling yourself out just for the college entrance exams!" Jin Fugui said with mock disdain.

"Jealousy won't get you anywhere," Zhao Feng said smugly. "What can I say? I was born charming."

"F-Feng-ge," Jin Fugui stammered, lowering his voice. "If Red-Crowned Crane does agree to tutor you, take me with you. I promise I won't get in the way or say a word."

"If she agrees, you can come," Zhao Feng said with a nod.

After feasting, the two returned home, skipping the evening self-study session entirely.

It was a moonless, windy night with heavy clouds looming overhead.

Outside the school gates, a group of young men squatted by the flowerbeds, cigarettes dangling from their mouths. They looked like they were collectively using the flowerbed as a makeshift latrine. At the forefront was Huang Dabiao, his freshly shaved bald head gleaming under the streetlights.

Huang Dabiao's face was thunderous, his expression dark enough to drip water. Ever since his encounter with Zhao Feng that morning, his luck had taken a nosedive. Even smoking a cigarette in the restroom and bragging a little had ended in disaster—he had run into the principal on patrol and hit a brick wall.

Principal Wang Youdao, a seasoned veteran, didn't tolerate nonsense. He had chewed them out for an entire class period in his office before pulling out an electric clipper and shaving all three of their heads. The clippers were merciless, leaving their scalps patchy like a field freshly mowed by a combine harvester.

Huang Dabiao's flamboyant dyed hair was gone, replaced by a bald head. Unable to show his face, he went to a barbershop to shave it clean. His two lackeys, Hou San and Li You, also ended up with shaved heads.

The culprit behind all this? Zhao Feng. He couldn't let him off the hook. Huang Dabiao had rallied his gang and was now waiting to teach Zhao Feng a lesson.

"This is ridiculous. Evening self-study ended ages ago. Why hasn't Zhao Feng come out yet?" Huang Dabiao grumbled.

"Zhao Feng is the most obedient senior three student. He's never skipped a class in three years. He'll come out eventually," Li You reassured him.

"Let me go inside and check," Hou San suggested.

"Go ahead, monkey. Lure him out so we can gang up on him," Huang Dabiao ordered.

An hour passed.

Hou San returned, dejected. "The bastard skipped class. He left after the third period. We've wasted an entire night."

Huang Dabiao's face turned black, metaphorical storm clouds brewing over his head. His fury boiled over, and he stomped the ground in frustration. "That little coward! I've spent the whole night feeding mosquitoes, and now my head's covered in bites!"

Li You sighed. "It's already 10 p.m. Let's call it a night. Everyone go home."

Huang Dabiao, though furious, clasped his hands and said courteously, "Sorry to trouble you guys. I'll treat everyone to dinner next time. Let's pack it up."

With that, the group scattered, leaving the encounter as nothing more than a farcical waste of time.

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