No one dislikes money.
I'm no exception.
But I didn't understand what Sister Mei meant by that, so I asked,
"How do I make it?"
Sister Mei glanced around the casino and pointed to two people behind the blackjack table.
"See them? The one in the white shirt and black vest is the dealer. The one standing next to her is the chip runner. I know the owner of this place. If you're willing, I can introduce you to work here as a chip runner. At Tianxiang, you only earn 1,000 yuan a month, but here, as a chip runner, the salary is 3,500 yuan, and with the tips from winning guests, you could easily take home over 5,000 a month. If you do well, and gain some experience, you could even become a dealer one day. Then you'd be making over 10,000 a month!"
What she referred to as a chip runner, was someone who quickly calculated the guests' winnings or losses and handled the payouts or collections.
This job required quick mental math and reflexes.
For me, it was nothing.
Still, I shook my head.
"Thanks, Sister Mei. But I don't want to do it."
My refusal clearly caught Sister Mei off guard.
Her eyes were filled with disbelief.
"You don't want to? Do you have any idea how many people would kill for this job? I only called you because I saw how stable and quick-thinking you are. I thought you could handle it. And you're telling me you don't want to?"
"Yes," I replied. "I'd rather stick with the bathhouse."
"Why?"
"Because at the bathhouse, I get to see you every day."
My answer left Sister Mei somewhere between laughing and crying.
The curiosity in her gaze turned into something like pity—like she was looking at a fool.
Of course, I was joking.
I spent thirteen years learning cheating techniques, only to become a chip runner in a casino?
If Sixth Master ever found out, he'd break my legs.
The bathhouse was different. There, I could pretend to be just a lowly worker, ignorant of the world.
But the moment I stepped into a casino, that world belonged to me.
There, I could only have one identity—
Master Chu Liu.
Not a servant.
A king.
Just as Sister Mei was looking at me with exasperation, my phone suddenly rang.
It was a second-hand Nokia 3310 I'd bought from a colleague last month.
I answered, and heard Hou Jun's voice on the other end:
"Chu Liu, old spot—Huimai Supermarket. Come quick. We're starting a game."
Hou Jun was our team leader in the men's bath section.
He had a soft, fair face and a silver tongue, which made Sister Mei quite fond of him.
By "old spot," he meant a small supermarket owned by a friend of his.
After work, he often gathered a few colleagues there to play Three Card Brag.
I often joined too.
After telling Sister Mei, I headed straight there.
Huimai Supermarket was right by the street.
When we played, we used a small room in the back.
By the time I arrived, there were already five or six people in the room.
I knew all of them—besides some colleagues from the bathhouse, there was Hou Jun's childhood friend, Zheng Cheng, nicknamed Old Hei.
Old Hei was tall and muscular, with a fierce face and a body of solid muscle.
Just looking at him made most people shrink back a little.
According to Hou Jun, Old Hei had once been on the provincial sanda team.
He had great fighting skills and was almost selected for the national team—
Until he supposedly slept with the mistress of a sports bureau official.
The official was furious and had him kicked out.
Back in Ha North City, he drifted around with no real job.
When he had nothing to do, he would hang out at the bathhouse with Hou Jun.
He also liked to play cards with us.
This time, Hou Jun brought his girlfriend Chen Xiaoxue along.
She was one of our massage therapists at the bathhouse, and pretty decent looking.
But she was sharp-tongued, snobbish, and looked down on low-level staff like us.
Whenever a service worker greeted her, she'd stick her nose in the air and pretend not to hear.
Once everyone arrived, Hou Jun asked the owner to bring a deck of cards and start the game.
It wasn't a big one—five yuan base bet, ten yuan cap.
Meaning, no one could bet more than ten yuan at a time.
But if someone blind-bet ten yuan, those who had looked at their cards had to bet twenty to follow.
It didn't sound like a big game, but a single session could still result in wins or losses of over a thousand yuan.
That's equal to a month's salary for these service workers.
One game could wipe out a month of income.
I never cheated in this game.
Not out of mercy—
But because I didn't have to cheat to win.
My ability to rent my own place instead of staying in the company dorm?
All thanks to the money I won in these games.
And it wasn't because I was particularly lucky or skilled.
It was because someone else was cheating—and I knew exactly how they did it.
That someone was Hou Jun.
Every time he asked the boss for cards, they were marked decks—also known as magic decks.
These decks looked completely normal, but every card had a tiny mark on the back.
With these marks, you could tell the suit and value.
Such an entry-level cheating trick couldn't fool me.
So I didn't need to cheat at all to win.
Still, to avoid raising suspicion, I would intentionally lose a few rounds—
That way, no one would ever suspect a thing, and I could safely pocket some spare cash.
The game started. Everyone was focused as usual.
Hou Jun, though he knew how to read the cards, had poor eyesight.
Sometimes he could only read one or two players' cards.
Most players kept their cards close together, not spread out.
Hou Jun could usually only see the top card.
Today, his luck wasn't great.
Even with knowledge of some cards, he guessed wrong a few times and lost.
Usually, he'd be the winner.
After losing a few hundred yuan, his composure started to crack, and he began cursing.
This round, someone else was dealing.
I was dealt a club A, J, and 10—a suited run.
Hou Jun wasn't as lucky.
He got a spade K, 9, and 7—also a flush, but weaker.
I was sitting diagonally across from Hou Jun, right next to Old Hei.
Old Hei's bulky frame blocked Hou Jun's view.
When I received my cards, Hou Jun couldn't see clearly.
I quickly placed the A at the bottom, and the 10 on top—
So even if he saw the 10, it wouldn't matter.
Seeing he had a K flush, Hou Jun started acting.
"Damn it, I've already lost a bunch today. No way I'm losing again! I'm going in—ten yuan!"
He threw in ten yuan.
Two players folded immediately.
The player to my right, anxious to win back his losses, followed with a blind bet of ten yuan.
We both knew his hand—three sevens.
Then it was my turn.
I matched the ten yuan without a word.