The Mohist Chronicles

Moton was an ambitious young man of the twentieth century. Although he came from a poor family, his roots were pure, being a third-generation son of impoverished peasants—a classic penniless nobody.

Yet this did not dampen Moton's determination to strive for a better life. He resolved to start from scratch and fight his way to a fortune of five million.

Today was the moment that would decide his fate. Moton lingered for a long time in front of a bank he had scouted several times before. The area was safe, and there were few passersby.

Pulling the brim of his hat low, Moton felt the contents of his pocket, steeled himself, and walked into a shop next to the bank.

"Boss! One ticket for the Double Color Ball."

Moton took out two one-yuan coins and set them before the shopkeeper.

"The draw is tonight. Good luck." The shopkeeper expertly printed out a lottery ticket and handed it to Moton with a smile.

Night fell, and soon it was nine twenty. Moton refreshed his phone over and over, waiting for the results. His five-million fortune hung on this moment.

Each time the numbers were drawn was agony for Moton, watching as his five million slipped away before his eyes—no, five million and two yuan, to be precise.

But for the sake of his dreams, this pain was something he had to endure.

Ding!

A notification popped up from the lottery app: the results were in.

"No—"

A cry of anguish burst from Moton's rented room.

"My five million and two yuan!"