Chapter 1: Death Express (Part 1)
My girlfriend left while I wasn't around. She left behind two thousand yuan, said it was all she had left, and told me not to look for her anymore.
She'd eaten instant noodles with me for half a year, living in a cramped apartment where you couldn't even stand up straight. I knew she'd reached her limit.
I didn't blame her. I only blamed myself for being useless.
With two thousand yuan in hand, I decided to go big. Win and I'd be in paradise. Lose and I'd burn in hell.
I went to Spike's place—a semi-open underground casino. I'd walked past it several times before, but today was the first time I walked in.
Spike looked surprised when he saw me come in. Maybe he couldn't imagine a professional boxer falling this low. But who could have predicted it? Three whole years of the pandemic—no work, no fights, no income. Even the boxing gym where I trained had shut down.
Even this cramped apartment where I couldn't stand up straight—if I couldn't make rent next week, the landlord would throw me out onto the street.
After exchanging my chips, Spike patted my shoulder. "Take it easy. Small bets for fun, big bets will ruin you."
I nodded and dove headfirst into the ocean of desperation.
Within half an hour, every chip I had was gone.
Blinded by losses, I borrowed money from Spike. He put on a troubled face: "You can borrow, but our interest rate is 15%, minimum fifty thousand. Ryan, man, we're neighbors—why don't you just call it a day..."
"No, no, I'll borrow." Terrified he'd change his mind, I hurriedly signed the loan agreement, took the cash, exchanged it for chips, and dove back into the casino.
In no time at all, the chips in my hand were gone again.
Like a textbook gambler, I lost, borrowed, and lost again, obsessed with the idea of winning it all back, muttering to myself: "Just one big win, just one big win..."
By the time the last chip slipped away, I realized I'd already borrowed two hundred thousand in loan shark debt.
My head spun and my ears rang. I stood in the casino, feeling weightless, as if floating on clouds.
"No, no—you're cheating!" I realized the dice were compromised and pointed accusingly. "You ganged up on me to steal my money!"
All the other gamblers looked at each other in bewilderment.
Slade's face darkened. He picked up the dice from the table and handed them to me. "If you think the dice are compromised, you're welcome to check."
I weighed them in my hand and knew immediately they'd been swapped. "These aren't the original ones!"
"Damn—" Slade spat through clenched teeth. Two of his thugs immediately grabbed me and tried to drag me away. I fought them off. "You cheated! Give me my money back!"
One thug swung a fist at me. "Starting trouble here? You've got a death wish!"
His movement was far too slow.
I dipped and rolled, then countered with a sweeping hook that connected cleanly with his jaw. There was a loud "crack" and he went limp like a wet noodle.
Five or six thugs charged at me simultaneously, punching and kicking, but through a professional boxer's eyes, their movements were full of openings. I dropped one with each casual punch, grabbed another who tried to tackle me around the waist, and drove a knee into his face. I heard something crack—his nose was definitely broken.
I broke through to Slade, who went pale with shock and reached for something at his waist. I didn't give him the chance. Torquing my hips, I unleashed a vicious low kick that sent the slim-trousers, pointed-shoes-wearing Slade flying across the room.
He lay on the floor groaning. As I moved toward him, a distinctive metallic sound clicked behind me.
My body froze instantly, every muscle locking tight. Because I knew—something a hundred times more violent than me had just appeared.
I slowly turned my head. Before me stood a man with a broad, square-jawed face and a scar running across the corner of his mouth. This was the true owner of the casino—Slade, Boss Scar.
Slade held a police-issue Type 54 pistol pointed at my head. The sound I'd heard was him racking the slide.
"Kneel." He jabbed the gun at my forehead.
I knew he absolutely had the guts to kill. I had no choice but to clasp my hands behind my head and drop to my knees.
"You've got balls, making trouble in my place. You're the first," Slade said. He glanced at his groaning thugs on the floor. "All of you got beat by just him?"
"It was him..." Spike staggered to his feet. "He borrowed two hundred thousand and wants to default on the debt..."
Slade crouched down, pressing the barrel against my skull. "Impressive. Wrecking my place like this—did you think about the consequences?"
I said, "They were cheating..."
"Do you have proof?"
I was speechless. They were professionals. They wouldn't leave any evidence.
"Catching a thief requires catching the goods, just like catching an adulterer requires catching them in bed, understand?" Slade slapped my face with the gun. "That loan agreement has your name on it in black and white. You're not getting out of a single cent."
It was only then that I calmed down and sank into deep despair. The compound interest on the loan shark debt—I'd never be able to pay it off in my lifetime.
"Of course, you could run. But your parents are still back in Shandong, aren't they..."
"Don't touch them!" I shouted.
Slade chuckled. He knew he'd found my weak spot. "This is a real headache. How are you going to pay this back? You could sell a kidney, but the market isn't great right now. One kidney wouldn't cover it anyway..."
A chill crept through my body.
"I won't say I'm not giving you a chance," Slade said, pulling something out and placing it on the floor. "Tomorrow, you take this train at the designated time, and our debt is wiped clean. Of course, if you can reach the final station in one piece, the money you'll have will be more than enough to cover what you owe."
I looked closely—it was a high-speed rail ticket purchased with my ID: "Ryan Knox, Jinan to North Millbrook, Departing 23:15, Car 04, Seat 17F, Second Class."
Shocked, I asked, "When did you..."
"Don't ask too many questions. Knowing too much won't do you any good." Slade tucked the ticket into my pocket and patted it. "I've given you the opportunity. The choice is yours."
2
I sat in my cramped apartment and thought about it all night.
Aside from the path they'd pointed out, I had no second option.
I knew Slade's methods. To force debt repayment, he'd blockade doors, splash paint, threaten family members—he'd stop at nothing. And my loan shark debt of two hundred thousand, with compound interest, would burden me for a lifetime.
I really regretted it. How could I have been so stupid, taking two thousand yuan to gamble for riches, only to end up buried in debt?
It seemed I had no choice but to get on that train.
I took out the ticket and examined it carefully. It was a genuine, authentic high-speed rail ticket, purchased with my identity information. When had they done all this?
Could it be that they had somehow foreseen that I'd go to the casino and lose everything?
What troubled me even more was what Slade had said—if I got on this train, my debt would be completely wiped. What was so extraordinary about this train?
I had a vague sense that this was a trap, but I had no other path but to step right into it.
Since I had no choice, I stopped overthinking. After eating my last pack of instant noodles, I picked out my cleanest, most presentable outfit and tried to make myself look less pathetic.
Before leaving, I even splurged ten yuan on a jar of hair wax and styled my hair. Let's just say—it was better than nothing.
Everything ready, I arrived at the station half an hour early. Scanned my ID, verified my ticket, went through security— everything was completely normal. Nothing seemed off at all.
Reaching the platform, it was already 11 PM. Fifteen minutes until departure. The display board flashed the next train's information.
"23:15, Jinan to North Millbrook."
Millbrook—an obscure, remote little city. If not for this ticket, I'd never have had anything to do with such a place in my entire life.
Looking left and right on the platform, I was the only one waiting. That made sense—a place like Millbrook where nothing ever happened wouldn't have many travelers, let alone at midnight.
Everything seemed normal, but the fog of mystery in my mind only grew thicker.
Moments later, a white high-speed train slowly pulled to a stop in front of me, its doors sliding open. I hesitated briefly, then stepped inside.
Soft lighting emanated from the ceiling. The onboard screen was playing a tourism promo—"Beautiful Shandong." I found my car and seat according to the ticket. Shortly after I sat down, the train began to move.