The first three digits of a mobile number represent the segment code, and the middle four digits are allocated to provincial companies based on the potential customer base and market size of the respective regional branches. This means that by recognizing the fourth to seventh digits of a mobile number, one could determine its area of origin, making it easy to distinguish whether it was an out-of-town long-distance call or not.

The three mobile numbers Wang Zhuo dialed all happened to be outside the local area code, meaning they required long-distance charges to connect. The property management company had locked the long-distance function to save funds, so naturally, he couldn't get through!

"Can't get through?" Wang Li paused, then slapped his thigh and chuckled wryly, "Look at my memory! The company's landline can't make long-distance calls.

You were dialing out-of-town numbers, right? Use my mobile instead!" "Then thank you very much." Wang Zhuo gave him a grateful smile and took the phone, which only had the added functions of sending/receiving texts and the basic handset.

He first tried calling his father, who had gone out for breakfast. He expected his father to return quickly, but it turned out he had already driven out of the city to visit a film crew shooting nearby.

He then tried calling Guan Yingying and Qi Fei, but neither answered. Wang Zhuo guessed that perhaps because their winter clothes were too thick, combined with the noise in the mall, they hadn't heard their phones ringing.

Now he was truly stranded with no way home. Wang Zhuo let out a wry laugh and called Gan Shuang instead.

"Oh dear, what a pitiful little kiddo." Gan Shuang's laughter held a hint of schadenfreude. "But I'm in piano lessons right now, and the teacher is very busy.

You need an appointment. Why don't you try asking again to see if Fei Long and the others can take you in?" "What's so great about learning piano?" Wang Zhuo snorted.

"I think the instruments best suited for you are the flute and the xiao." (Note: Xiao is a vertical end-blown flute.) "Then I'll go find Fei Long!" Playing the flute horizontally and the xiao vertically involves the contact between lips, tongue, and a cylindrical object. When these words came from Wang Zhuo's mouth, coupled with his peculiar, little-known hobby, Gan Shuang immediately understood the innuendo.

As he hung up, the piano teacher had just managed to suppress a smirk on her face. Gan Shuang instantly flushed crimson, mentally cursing the unrestrained Wang Zhuo: "Bastard, just stay out there and freeze!" Fei Long...

that guy had gone to a county town over a hundred kilometers away to meet an online acquaintance. Haozi (Mouse)...

visiting his ancestral home to pay respects? What nonsense!

"This is uncanny!" Wang Zhuo slammed the table in amazement. Calling anyone led to a dead end—how coincidental could it be?!

"Ding, ding, ding." The phone suddenly chimed three electronic notes. Wang Zhuo looked down; it was a reminder text: prepaid balance insufficient, less than fifteen yuan remaining.

Great, if he called the security guard now, he’d run the balance dry! "Uh, well," he said with a strained smile, handing the phone back to Wang Li, "do you have any money?

Lend me a hundred." Wang Li had been observing him for a while and found his predicament amusingly absurd. He rummaged through his pockets but only pulled out a fifty-yuan note and a few smaller denominations.

Even borrowing money involved a shrinkage! Wang Zhuo burst out laughing despite himself, shook his head, and said, "Fifty is fine; just give me that!" Watching the man who was supposedly the wealthiest person stroll out of the complex clutching the fifty yuan he’d temporarily lent him, Wang Li was practically bursting with curiosity, dying to follow and see what the 'Richest Brother' was going to do with that fifty!

Strolling down the street amidst the falling snow, the world was draped in white. Being without music felt genuinely wrong.

Normally, Wang Zhuo would definitely roll down his car window, breathe in the fresh, cool air, and play a track like "On the Road" or "Deep Blue Tears" through the car stereo. But now, he didn't even have a mobile phone on him, let alone a portable music player or other electronic devices.

No one to hold hands with, so I’ll put my hands in my pockets. No music, so I’ll sing myself!

Clearing his throat, Wang Zhuo suddenly found himself truly relishing this feeling of being utterly alone between heaven and earth. A song with an R-rating popped into his mind.

"The next track is rated R. If you are under eighteen, go home quickly and hug your mom and dad!" Singing a 'bad boy' catchy tune, hands shoved deep in his pockets, Wang Zhuo walked alone on the snow-covered city streets, feeling as if he had returned to those times when he lived by himself.

The only difference was that the money in his pockets had increased from five yuan to fifty, and it was borrowed money at that. That roguish, nonchalant air fully returned to him.

He looked around, found a convenience store, bought a pack of cheap five-yuan cigarettes, and even wheedled half a box of old matches from the shop owner's wife. Tearing open the pack, he took out a cigarette, smelled that long-lost scent under his nose, paused, smiled faintly, tucked the cigarette behind his ear, and shoved the rest into his coat pocket.

He walked past several internet cafes without a second glance, finally stopping at the entrance of a billiard club. "Jiba Billiards Club..." He tilted his head up to read the sign and chuckled, "What a cool name.

I wonder if the facilities inside are just as awesome." He vaguely remembered this Jiba Club. Back when he could dominate the city with a single casual shot, he'd visited a few times.

Back then, guys like him—who didn't own their own specialized cues and were always looking for the cheapest stakes games—were rare. Although the wins and losses were only tens or hundreds of yuan, it was an important source of income that kept him afloat.

As he walked up to the second floor, the hostess bowed politely and said, "Welcome! Sir, may I see your membership card?" "I don't have a membership card," Wang Zhuo replied with a smile.

"If you wish to apply for a membership card, please proceed this way." The hostess gestured toward the service desk. "Since when did this rule come in?" Wang Zhuo asked.

"How much is a membership card? If I don't get one, can I still play here?" "Applying for a membership card is only ninety-eight yuan," the hostess explained with a professional smile.

"I'm sorry, sir, we only provide service to members. If you choose not to purchase a card, we regretfully cannot host you." Hearing ninety-eight yuan, Wang Zhuo immediately laughed wryly and scratched his head.

With only forty-five yuan in his pocket, he couldn't afford it! Oh well, time to check out another place!

He smiled helplessly and was about to excuse himself and go downstairs when he suddenly spotted a woman wearing a player's vest emerging from a side door—wasn't that An Qi, the former police flower? "An Qi!" He quickly shouted her name and waved vigorously toward her.

An Qi, who had been lowering her head to adjust her gloves, stopped instantly, turned toward the sound, and showed a flicker of surprise before walking over quickly. Wang Zhuo grinned at the hostess and said, "I'm just chatting with a friend for a moment; I won't need a membership card then, right?" The approaching An Qi also heard his words.

When the hostess turned to look at her, An Qi nodded slightly, acknowledging that she knew Wang Zhuo. "You work here?" Wang Zhuo asked, smiling as he took in her appearance.

She was wearing tightly tailored black trousers paired with a crisp white shirt and a deep red vest. Her short hair was barely an inch long, styled and fixed to look like shiny kernels of wheat.

"Mm," An Qi replied concisely. She curled the corner of her mouth, which served as a smile back to Wang Zhuo.

"So that means your billiard skills must be quite high?" Wang Zhuo noticed the coach tag with a number hanging on her chest. An Qi glanced at him, raised an eyebrow, and said, "Yeah.

Want a game?" "That's exactly what I was thinking." Wang Zhuo grinned widely and said, "But I never play a game without stakes." An Qi finally smiled, but it was a smile at Wang Zhuo's overconfident self-assessment. "Fifty or a hundred, you name it.

The loser pays the table fee." After speaking, she turned back to the hostess beside her and said, "...Bu Xia, get him a membership card and put it on my account." Then she turned back to Wang Zhuo and added, "You pulled me out of a tight spot that day; consider this membership card my small token of thanks." Wang Zhuo felt a little smug. That saved him ninety-eight yuan.

Looks like doing good deeds is something worth remembering for the future. A short while later, the hostess Bu Xia brought over the registration form and a membership card.

Wang Zhuo saw that someone had signed the registration form with a nickname, so he unceremoniously signed his name as 'The Priest.' Although he had picked up this moniker from Fei Long, Wang Zhuo felt it suited him perfectly—a representative of God on earth, which was exactly his current life situation! "The Priest?" An Qi glanced at the registration form and smiled at Wang Zhuo, saying, "Follow me!" She led the way.

Wang Zhuo noticed that her shoulders were slightly broader than those of an average woman, her back was perfectly straight, and the curve of her waist was just right—neither looking frail nor appearing overly sturdy. Her tight trousers contoured the shape of her full, round hips, suggesting she was...

quite curvaceous. If the word 'curvaceous' was used to describe a woman, it should normally be a negative adjective, but applied to this particular area on An Qi, it wasn't negative or neutral at all; it should be taken as a compliment.

In short, her backside gave Wang Zhuo a conflicting impression; it seemed slightly disproportionate to the rest of her body, yet it was by no means unattractive—on the contrary, it was intensely sexy and alluring. It was only then that Wang Zhuo realized that despite only having brief contact with this woman twice before, this was the first time he had the chance to observe her from this angle.

He'd completely missed such a prominent feature before—what a waste. They arrived at a less crowded section, and An Qi turned around, asking, "Eight-ball, or Snooker?" Wang Zhuo shrugged.

"Eight-ball; Snooker takes too long." "Got it." His answer was clearly what An Qi had expected. "Go pick out a cue." Wang Zhuo grunted in agreement and sauntered over to the nearby cue rack.

With his X-ray vision power cranked to maximum, he simply scanned the rack and immediately found the cue stick—in terms of length, weight, shaft, and tip—that was most suitable for him. He took it off the rack.

These public cues provided for lower-tier players were clearly not high-end merchandise; having consistent weight and no warping was already good enough. The young men and women chatting nearby were all very surprised to see Wang Zhuo walk over, casually pick up a cue, and move on.