"Damn it, not again, not again."
The middle-aged fat man who had spent a thousand bucks pounded his fist on the glass counter, glaring at Zhang Fan through gritted teeth: "Kid, are you messing with me?"
"Five... hundred... thousand..."
The man standing next to Zhang Fan's face turned red as he rubbed his eyes hard, breathing heavily, his eyes nearly popping out.
This was five hundred thousand, damn it. Five hundred thousand, do you know how long it takes to make that kind of money without eating or drinking, working construction for ten years?
The man's voice left the middle-aged fat man stunned for a good five seconds. Then, his eyes widened, and he rushed over to Zhang Fan, stretching his neck to get a closer look.
"Five hundred thousand, five hundred thousand, damn it, why didn't I grab that ticket?"
The middle-aged fat man felt a wave of despair. If he had grabbed that still-unsigned scratch card earlier, it would have been his.
