The Predawn Spending Trap

Li Ming, an inconspicuous weed in this steel forest, contributed his sweat daily beside roaring machines, just to earn those few banknotes that barely allowed him to stand on the city's edge. His world was small, small enough only to hold the creaking single bed in his rented room, and the sweet smile of his faraway girlfriend, Mei Ling. Oh, right, and his three-year-old phone, and inside it, the Apple account that held all his hopes.

The number in the account was saved dime by dime, pinching every penny. Three months, nine hundred sixty yuan and eighty cents. To the people in suits and leather shoes frequenting high-end office buildings, this sum might just be the price of a dinner or a single cigar. But for Li Ming, it was the birthday surprise he was preparing for Mei Ling—the silver necklace she had casually mentioned during their last video call, her eyes sparkling. He calculated that in another two weeks, he could save up a thousand yuan, buy it, and mail it back before Mei Ling's birthday.

Life, like a stingy playwright, always unexpectedly inserts an absurd act just when you think the plot is heading towards warmth.

That early morning, Li Ming was jolted awake by a series of notification sounds from his phone. Not the alarm clock, but spending notifications. Bleary-eyed, he grabbed his phone. The dense push notifications on the screen instantly woke him up, as if a basin of ice water had been poured over his head.

“Your account was charged XX yuan at 02:15 AM…” “Your account was charged XX yuan at 02:17 AM…” “Your account was charged XX yuan at 02:18 AM…”

One after another, like well-trained soldiers, they lined up neatly in the notification bar. With trembling fingers, he opened the payment app. There, in the account balance section, a cold “0.12 yuan” seemed to mock him mercilessly. He counted the transaction records—exactly one hundred and sixty-two entries! Each amount was small, ranging from a few yuan to just over ten, all for game top-ups and virtual item purchases he'd never heard of.

Nine hundred sixty yuan and sixty-eight cents, just like that, within a few hours while he slept soundly, had turned into meaningless strings of code in the internet world, vanishing without a trace.

Li Ming felt the world spin. He rushed out of his rented room like a madman and dashed to the nearest police station. The officer on duty yawned, listened to his incoherent description, routinely took down his statement, handed him a receipt slip, and told him to go back and wait for news, adding that cases of online theft like this are hard to crack, and recovering the money is even harder.

He then called Apple customer service. Through tedious voice menus and endless hold music, his pitiful shred of hope wore thin. The customer service representative's voice was sweet, offering formulaic sympathy, advising him to report to the police and change his password. As for a refund, “We need to review the case. Please wait patiently. We cannot guarantee the outcome.”

Patience? Li Ming gave a bitter smile. What patience did he have left? Only despair. Those one hundred and sixty-two transactions were like one hundred and sixty-two needles piercing his heart. He could almost see Mei Ling's surprised smile upon receiving the necklace; now that smile was shattered, like the balance in his account, leaving only dregs.

For the next few days, Li Ming was listless. The roar of the machines was deafening, and his co-workers' jokes failed to interest him in the slightest. He didn't dare answer Mei Ling's calls or look at her messages. He imagined her disappointed face on her birthday when she received no gift. He even began to wonder if Mei Ling would think he was stingy, that he didn't care about her at all.

Time doesn't stop for anyone's sorrow. Mei Ling's birthday arrived. Li Ming only had a few dozen yuan left in his pocket, not even enough to buy a decent greeting card. He stared at Mei Ling's name on his phone screen for a long time before finally dialing her number.

The call connected. He took a deep breath, prepared to face disappointment, even reproach. He stammered, his voice dry, “Mei Ling… Happy birthday… I'm sorry, I…”

“Silly!” Mei Ling's clear laughter came from the other end, tinged with playful reproach. “Did you forget something again?”

Li Ming paused, “Forgot what?”

“You forgot what I told you last time!” Mei Ling's voice was cheerful. “I said, birthdays and stuff, no need for gifts. We're saving money right now. With your salary, you should eat better yourself, don't always be scrimping.”

Li Ming's heart felt like it had been gently bumped by something, a bittersweet warmth spreading through him.

“But…” He still wanted to explain about the necklace.

“No buts!” Mei Ling interrupted him. “Let me tell you some good news! I got a bonus this month! It's not much, but it's enough to cover a fraction of our little savings goal! I've found a small storefront, right here in our town. I've thought it through: when you come back, we'll open a small eatery together, how about that? Didn't you always say you wanted to start your own little business?”

Li Ming stood holding the phone on the noisy city street. Amid the surrounding traffic and bustling crowds, he felt the whole world fall silent. He could almost see the sparkle in Mei Ling's eyes on the other end of the line, brighter than any silver necklace.

“Oh, right,” Mei Ling added, as if suddenly remembering something, her tone slightly embarrassed. “A couple of days ago, my fingers were itching, so I used your Apple account… the one you helped me link last time… played a few games, and accidentally topped up a few yuan. You're not mad, are you? It was just a few yuan, I promise!”

Li Ming opened his mouth, but his throat felt blocked. Early morning, one hundred and sixty-two transactions, small payments… game top-ups…

He suddenly understood something, yet it felt like he understood nothing at all. Was it Mei Ling? How would she know the password? No, she only said she charged a few yuan… What about the other hundred-plus transactions? Was it… a coincidence? Or had fate played an absurd joke?

He looked at the phone screen; the cold “0.12 yuan” balance didn't seem so jarring anymore. The lost nine hundred sixty yuan and sixty-eight cents, compared to the future painted on the other end of the phone, suddenly felt insignificant, as if it could be blown away by a gust of wind.

“No… not mad.” Li Ming finally found his voice, tinged with an almost imperceptible choke. “Not mad at all. Mei Ling, about opening the shop, I think… that's great.”

After hanging up, Li Ming looked up at the grey, hazy sky. Sunlight struggled to pierce the clouds, trying to cast a little warmth. He didn't know the real story behind those one hundred and sixty-two transactions, and perhaps he never would. Was the money stolen by an unknown hacker, did Mei Ling accidentally leak the password, or had she told a clumsy lie to ease his burden?

But did it matter?

He remembered O. Henry's 'The Gift of the Magi,' where the poor couple sacrificed their most treasured possessions to buy gifts for each other. And him? He had lost a 'fortune,' but unexpectedly gained a more genuine promise, a more solid future.

Perhaps life, that playwright, occasionally writes stories that seem absurd but end with warmth. As for those one hundred and sixty-two predawn transactions, consider it a trivial tuition fee paid to this bizarre digital age. After all, true wealth has never been just about the numbers in an account.

Li Ming clutched the few dozen yuan left in his pocket and turned towards the steaming hot baozi shop on the street corner. He decided that starting today, for himself and for that future eatery, he would eat a proper breakfast.