Permutations and Combinations 05

From that day forward, Old Ma went to the lottery shop almost every day, clutching scraps of paper and a pencil, his neck craned like a white goose. The harsh smell of smoke no longer seemed to affect him; like those around him, he was completely absorbed in his "calculations."

But their so-called calculations were nothing more than taking the winning numbers from the previous draws, adding their own "feelings," and then recombining a new string of digits. It was a method without logic or pattern. And that "feeling" was even more capricious and elusive. Some used the last digits of their phone numbers, others their ID cards or diplomas; some even used receipts from recent meals—each showcasing their own peculiar tricks.

Sometimes, when someone won five yuan, the news would spread like wildfire throughout the lottery circle. Old Ma had excitedly recounted such stories to his family more than once, but his wife and children showed no interest.

At this, Old Ma sighed deeply. Awang, moved by Old Ma’s plight, had intended to share his own business woes, but upon reflection, having already laid bare his entire situation from the outset, he found there was little left to say.

Old Ma’s voice faltered for a moment, and an uneasy silence filled the car for five seconds—an awkwardly long pause between two men who had just started calling each other brothers. Awang was ready to let the conversation rest there, having gained some understanding of the hardships behind this living legend’s life. Yet, Old Ma’s next words took Awang by surprise.

But Old Ma did not stop; he continued his tale.

Amid the amazement, the others in the circle might only feel a fleeting mix of envy and resentment, indulging in idle gossip and then moving on. But when Old Ma learned of this news, it was as if a thousand arrows pierced his heart.

That night, he returned home without eating or drinking, sitting dumbfounded on the sofa.

How could there be such an algorithm?

I’ve been buying tickets for over a month, not winning a single cent, while others win every draw. Is it just my fate to suffer such misfortune? Suddenly, tears unbeknownst to him streamed down his cheeks.

His wife, seeing this, was terrified, fearing Old Ma was once again haunted by thoughts of his few apprentices and his repair shop. She tried to comfort him with tales of others’ misfortunes—who was going through a divorce, whose newly opened milk tea shop had closed, or whose prodigal son had been detained by the police... But Old Ma’s mind was filled only with images of millions of yuan, neatly stacked before his eyes. Occasionally, he even cracked a small chuckle.

That laugh sent a chill through his wife’s body. She hastily dialed emergency services, but Old Ma quickly stopped her, calmly saying, “These days, I want to go out on my own for a while.”