Sister Mei's sultry eyes remained fixed on me.
"Still pretending to play dumb? I admit I've always been lucky. But I don't believe my luck is so good that I'd pull a Heaven Draw Pure Seven Pairs in the very last round. Fine, even if I was miraculously lucky, what about the next few hands? Every time I needed a tile for a pung or a kong, you happened to discard exactly what I needed?"
She paused for effect, then added,
"Especially when Tao Hua and that guy were obviously cheating as a team. And you still want me to believe you weren't in on it?"
I froze mid-thought.
So Sister Mei knew all along—that Tao Hua and the man were colluding?
Then why would she keep playing? Why not call them out?
"If you don't believe me, there's nothing I can do."
I gave no explanation.
Nor did I soften because Sister Mei was my manager.
No—I stayed the same: cold and distant, as if she were a stranger.
Not because I didn't know manners or was trying to be aloof,
but because Sixth Master told me:
A pro con artist needs more than sleight of hand—he needs a spine of steel.
Otherwise, no matter how skilled you are, benefactors won't respect you—they'll use you as a tool.
And if anything goes wrong—you're the one taking the fall.
Sister Mei didn't get angry at my silence. Instead, she smiled.
"Chuliu, you know? You're the only one at Tianxiang who dares speak to me like this! Aren't you afraid I'll fire you?"
I didn't reply.
"Give me your hand."
Suddenly, she reached out.
I hesitated, but complied—extending my hand.
She gently grasped it and stroked my palm.
Her touch was soft and smooth, like fine silk.
It felt oddly intimate.
Yet Sister Mei seemed oblivious.
She continued to lightly trace my palm with her fingertips.
It tickled.
I didn't know her intent, and I didn't ask.
After a long moment, she finally spoke softly:
"Such beautiful hands… it'd be a shame if they weren't used for hustling."
Her words echoed Sixth Master's assessments of my own hands—long, strong, ideal for sleight-of-hand.
"Come. I'll take you somewhere…"
She released my hand, grabbed her car keys, but then paused. She opened a drawer and tossed a wadded ten-thousand-yuan bill onto the mahjong table.
"Cheating or not, I won tonight because you sat down. Consider this ten grand your gift."
It felt deserved. I pocketed the cash.
Still, I wondered—why did she keep playing, knowing Tao Hua and the man were cheating?
She said nothing. I said nothing.
She drove a red Audi A4. I rode silently, eyes forward.
After a while, she glanced at me and asked curiously,
"Chuliu, you're strange. Almost never speak, never smile—and now, in my car, you don't even ask where we're headed. What's your deal?"
I stayed silent.
She chuckled and continued,
"The more you act like this, the more curious I get. Trying to look cool, or naturally cold?"
I looked out the window and quietly said,
"A woman shouldn't be curious about a man."
I sounded older than my years.
Sister Mei laughed.
She teased,
"Oh? You're not trying to say that just because I'm curious about you—well, that I might fall for you, are you? Where does your confidence come from?"
"Why not?"
She burst into laughter again.
Her chest rose and fell with each chuckle.
It wasn't mockery, but there was a teasing contempt.
As manager of Tianxiang, Sister Mei had met countless men—officials, tycoons, underworld bosses. Many had sought her attention. Compared to them, I was nothing.
Yet she still gave me that look and joked:
"You're becoming… intriguing. That little brain of yours—such wild ideas. Fine, let's say—hypothetically—I did fall for you. What could you offer to support me?"
"Money."
"Money? From where—your thousand-yuan monthly wage at the bathhouse? Should I drink air for supper?"
Women are practical. And I understood that.
Who doesn't want money?
I pressed on:
"So… if it's a matter of money, then you'd be with me?"
"Dream on!"
She snorted in disdain.
Though not openly hostile, she clearly disliked my boldness.
Still, her disdain fueled a stubborn spark in me.
Dream?
I'll make sure it happens—in my bed.
I didn't expect what came next—Sister Mei took me to an underground casino.
It was hidden inside a hotel with strict security. Entry required a connection and a private elevator from the basement.
The casino wasn't grand, but fully equipped: at the door, rows of slot machines, fish-shooters, and karaoke-gambling games. Inside, tables for baccarat, blackjack, dice, roulette, and the like.
It was dinnertime—maybe a hundred players were present.
Sister Mei was at ease in her element. She showed me around, then pointed upstairs:
"Down here's the walk-in section. Upstairs is VIP. Guests can even bring their own table… or we provide players."
Any game—poker, pai gow, mahjong, dice—anything was possible. Even rock-paper-scissors, if you had the cash.
The casino profited from house cuts.
I wondered—was Sister Mei testing me because she suspected I was a hustler?
Was she tempting me to cheat?
I remained still.
"We okay to play a few hands? I'll swap chips," she offered.
I shook my head fast:
"No. I've never gambled."
At once, disappointment flickered in her eyes.
But it was honest.
All the years I'd traveled with Sixth Master, hitting gambling dens across the country—
He never let me sit at a table. He said it was training to master your inner demon.
Because once you sit—you want to win.
Want to win, and you cheat.
Technique unsteady, mind shaky—you step into hell.
You might avoid capture once… but not forever.
Only when your heart becomes still as water—unchallengeable—are you ready to gamble. Ready to cheat.
Sister Mei wasn't satisfied yet. She looked at me again and asked:
"Chuliu, do you want to make more money?"