Zhong Ziyan had experienced many kinds of joy in her life—whether it was the camaraderie of loyal friends or the thrill of leading her teammates to hard-fought victories, she had savored all these wonderful flavors.
But this was the first time she had ever tasted the exhilaration of dominating a casino without shedding a single drop of blood.
Wei Hanyun was practically a walking, breathing lucky charm—no, scratch that, a lucky god. Though rubbing his luck didn’t work every single time, out of ten attempts, six or seven would hit the jackpot.
How was this any different from free money?
Zhong Ziyan clung to Wei Hanyun’s hand, unwilling to let go as she dragged him around the casino, trying every game at least once—even the dice tables weren’t spared.
By the end, the dealers at every table stiffened behind their practiced smiles the moment Zhong Ziyan and Wei Hanyun approached.
As the saying went, when fortune favored you, there was no stopping it.
Occasionally, casinos had to grit their teeth and accept guests who seemed blessed by the god of wealth—especially since no cheating was involved, and especially when those guests happened to be the Wei couple.
By the time Zhong Ziyan had her fill of trying every game, she had completely lost track of how much she’d won.
“The hotel will tally it up when we leave,” Wei Hanyun said, checking the time. “It’s almost dinner.”
Zhong Ziyan pondered for a moment, then reluctantly returned to the first dice table where she had suffered her earlier defeat.
Wei Hanyun followed her out of habit, about to guide her toward a random bet based on intuition, when Zhong Ziyan suddenly released his hand and boldly placed her chips on the opposite side.
Wei Hanyun: “…”
Zhong Ziyan truly had no luck—like a pitiful soul cursed by the god of misfortune.
As expected, she lost that round.
After watching her stubbornly lose three more times in a row, Wei Hanyun silently offered his hand.
Zhong Ziyan, with great dignity, refused!
Wei Hanyun could only tuck his hand back into his pocket and watch as she proceeded to lose another three rounds of 50-50 bets.
The most baffling part was that even if Zhong Ziyan changed her mind at the very last second, she’d still lose.
…After three more losses, she had to admit that some gaps between people were simply unbridgeable. Resting her chin on her hand, she fell into deep thought.
Oh, right.
Now that she thought about it, shortly after entering the infinite space, she had once recklessly beaten up a fraud who claimed to be the god of luck.
Come to think of it, her misfortune had started right after that.
Zhong Ziyan: “…”
Come out, you fraud. I swear I’ll beat you up again—until a new god of luck takes your place.
The casino was filled with bunny girls weaving through the crowd, offering cigarettes and drinks, but there were also scantily clad male attendants who liked to cozy up to wealthy female guests, using their chiseled physiques to coax exorbitant tips out of them.
One particularly brawny man in nothing but a vest approached Zhong Ziyan. “Seems like luck isn’t on your side tonight. Would you like a ‘Rainbow Spring’ cocktail? It’s said to bring good fortune.”
Wei Hanyun glanced at him sidelong.
Before he could say anything, Zhong Ziyan, still propping her chin on her hand, replied without looking up, “I already have luck—right here beside me.”
The attendant instinctively turned to Wei Hanyun, realized his grave mistake, and awkwardly bowed in apology before hastily retreating.
Zhong Ziyan didn’t even spare him a glance. Instead, she stared gloomily at the dealer’s dice cup for a while before straightening up and declaring to Wei Hanyun, “One more kiss.”
Wei Hanyun chuckled, hands still in his pockets as he looked down at her.
Zhong Ziyan rose onto her tiptoes, aiming for his cheek, but her slipper somehow slipped at the worst moment—just as Wei Hanyun coincidentally leaned down slightly…
The result?
She stumbled and ended up kissing the corner of his lips instead.
Zhong Ziyan blinked in confusion. “…?” Impossible. How could someone like me—of all people—slip?!
“Bet on ‘All Triples,’” Wei Hanyun murmured.
“Got it.” Zhong Ziyan obediently shifted her focus, superstitiously grabbing his hand as they pushed a golden chip onto the “All Triples” option together.
In dice games, “All Triples” meant all three dice showing the same number—a rare outcome and definitely not something Zhong Ziyan would normally bet on.
But hey, when the lucky god speaks, you listen.
Zhong Ziyan fixed the dealer with a frosty, murderous glare. “One million.”
Win or lose, she was leaving after this.
Even the seasoned dealer broke a sweat. He knew the dice well—the moment the cup landed, he could tell what numbers lay inside.
When the cup lifted, the dice revealed three threes.
The dealer forced a smile. “Congratulations. Payout is twenty-four to one.”
Zhong Ziyan turned to Wei Hanyun in disbelief.
Wei Hanyun smiled back, elegant and unbothered, as if money meant nothing. “Just a bit of luck.”
This time, Zhong Ziyan didn’t dare kiss him again—who knew where her lips might land next?
…
As they left the casino, Zhong Ziyan snapped a photo of the golden chip.
[Today’s Attempt to Spend Money: Touching this golden chip is like touching the luck of an RNG god. This non-believer weeps with envy.]
The casino hotel operated with remarkable efficiency, promptly transferring the corresponding amount into the bank account provided by Zhong Ziyan.
This was a separate intermediary account she had opened for the foundation, entirely unlinked to any of Wei Hanyun’s accounts.
“How much in total?” she asked casually.
The bunny girl behind the exchange counter checked the amount and flashed a bright, youthful smile. “One hundred and ten million US dollars, plus some loose change.”
Zhong Ziyan: “…” In this den of extravagance, even millions could be dismissed as pocket change.
As she left the counter, Zhong Ziyan felt she ought to leave a tip, but with only a single golden chip left, she settled for complimenting the bunny girl instead. “You’re adorable.”
She mimicked rabbit ears with her hands beside her head.
The bunny girl blinked, then grinned wider. “Thank you. A compliment from a beauty like you means far more to me than any praise from a man.”
Zhong Ziyan pondered this for a moment, sensing something off—an odd reversal where she’d intended to charm but ended up being charmed instead.
But the thought of the freshly deposited hundred million dollars—cold, hard cash—quickly pushed the matter from her mind.
“I already know how to spend this money,” she declared to Wei Hanyun, tilting her chin up. “I’ll tell you once it’s done.”
Since the earnings came from Wei Hanyun’s initial stake, it was only fair to include him in the spoils.
His birthday was still months away, but starting preparations early for an extravagant gift was hardly unusual.
…
Hua Shuangshuang’s so-called vacation wasn’t much of a break. After the wedding, with Zhong Ziyan’s permission, she stayed behind on Cloud Island to assist with post-event logistics.
The wedding had been a lavish, no-expense-spared affair, and cleaning up afterward was no small task.
Important guests had to be seen off with proper courtesy, the temporarily expanded docks and helipads needed restoration, and the newly constructed banquet halls, party venues, and other structures likely required demolition. Mountains of construction waste and debris had to be cleared from the island.
Hua Shuangshuang gazed at the glass pavilions, built with cutting-edge technology, and the miniature forest visible even from the outside, feeling a pang of regret.
The construction company, responsible for both building and dismantling, sent a representative to consult her once all the guests had departed.
“It’s such a shame,” the manager sighed. “These could easily be repurposed—art galleries, sculpture halls, banquet spaces, guest quarters… I know the cost means nothing to the Weis, but having watched these structures rise from nothing, it’s hard not to feel a little heartbroken.”
Hua Shuangshuang agreed. She filmed a quick video and sent it to Zhong Ziyan for instructions.
“What happens if we don’t demolish them?” Zhong Ziyan asked.
“Annual maintenance would run about two million per pavilion,” Hua Shuangshuang relayed, quoting the construction company.
“Tear them all down,” Zhong Ziyan replied without hesitation. “Except the forest one. Keep that.”
Hua Shuangshuang reread the message twice, her lips quirking uncontrollably: I think I just witnessed some covert sweetness.
She promptly relayed the decision to the construction team, then casually checked in on her boss: “How’s Las Vegas treating you?”
Zhong Ziyan sent back a “My luck is terrible” meme: “But Wei Hanyun’s luck is great. Whenever he helps me place bets, we win easily.”
Hua Shuangshuang exhaled in relief. When she’d first seen Zhong Ziyan’s new Weibo post, she’d agonized over how to subtly console her.
After all, Zhong Ziyan’s abysmal luck was well-documented—Wei Hanyan’s livestream of her gacha pulls had been proof enough.
“So you two must have won big?” Hua Shuangshuang asked.
Given their generous spending habits and the “easy wins” in Vegas, she assumed they’d pocketed at least a few million.
“Not that much. Just over a hundred million,” Zhong Ziyan replied.
Hua Shuangshuang froze mid-step, staring at her phone in stunned silence: How many lifetimes would it take me to earn that kind of money?
“So there’s something I want to buy,” Zhong Ziyan’s follow-up message arrived. “The process might get complicated. Try to keep Fang Nan from finding out.”
Hua Shuangshuang replied mechanically: “Go ahead.”
Then she wobbled to a chair and slumped into it, dizzied: Need a moment to process this.
Fang Nan happened to pass by. “Heatstroke?”
Hua Shuangshuang’s voice floated dreamily: “I was just wondering when I’d ever make a hundred million dollars.”
“…” Fang Nan set a bottle of wine in front of her. “Down this. Maybe you’ll see it in your dreams.”
Ignoring him, Hua Shuangshuang ran rapid calculations: “A hundred million USD, roughly seven hundred million RMB. If I won the five-million-yuan lottery every single day, it’d still take me a hundred and forty days to get there.”
The reality, of course, was that Hua Shuangshuang couldn’t even win one five-million-yuan jackpot.
Fang Nan: "..." His colleague was once again having one of her periodic worldview-shattering moments. Give her three hours to reboot.
He was about to walk away when it occurred to him that he hadn’t received a call from Wei Hanyun in days. Pausing, he asked Hua Shuangshuang, "Has Madam contacted you?"
Hua Shuangshuang immediately raised her head, eyes sharp with suspicion. "Yes, but are you trying to pry for information about her?"
Fang Nan gave her a look that plainly said, "I’m dealing with an idiot," adjusted his glasses, and left.
Wei Hanyun might be gone, but that didn’t mean he hadn’t left Fang Nan with work.
Still, while Fang Nan was buried under an avalanche of tasks, it was some small comfort to know Hua Shuangshuang was suffering right alongside him—with an entire island’s worth of problems to handle.
