The Years I Was The Gambling God

In the world I once envisioned, I imagined a realm of shadows, blood, and turmoil. However, upon my migration from the small town to the city, I discovered that everything appeared uncannily similar to the quaint town, save for a sprinkle of nightlife, towering structures, and bustling thoroughfares.

As I departed, Varg handed me a mere one hundred dollars for my journey. Varg was affluent; otherwise, he wouldn't have the means to indulge with an abundance of women. His reasoning for the paltry sum was explicit: he emphasized that in the realm of currency, the world overflowed, and in the realm of women, opportunities bloomed everywhere. If I desired more, the pursuit was mine to undertake. Alas, I found myself adrift, clueless on where to seek.

My abode is nestled in a northern frontier town, steeped in the culture of bathing establishments. To sustain myself, I secured a position as an attendant at Tianxiang Baths, responsible for dispensing amenities to various bathing areas, excluding the women's section. This occupation persisted for half a year.

One afternoon, post the routine distribution of supplies as my workday waned, the team leader, Ranulph, summoned me. I was dispatched to the manager's office on the sixth floor to deliver a fruit platter to Mei.

Mei, our Tianxiang manager, appeared youthful, around twenty-five or twenty-six. I vividly recall my initial encounter with her, a moment that stirred me within. She possessed a striking beauty, eclipsing even the clandestine courtesans Varg had frequented. Standing at around 1.7 meters, her complexion was porcelain, exuding a delicate vulnerability. Particularly enchanting were her immaculate legs, slender and alabaster, radiating an irresistible allure that captivated any man in her presence.

Balancing the fruit platter, I entered the room to find Mei engrossed in a game of mahjong with associates in the adjacent chamber. It was common knowledge among the bathhouse staff that Mei harboured a fondness for mahjong, seizing any opportunity for play during lulls. Many men vied for the chance to accompany her, hoping to bask in her company.

"Mei, this fruit platter is for your enjoyment," I announced upon setting down the tray, poised to take my leave.

"Wait a moment," Mei abruptly halted me, gesturing towards the teapot beside her, and instructed, "Replace the tea; brew a fresh batch using the Longjing tea box under my desk."

I commenced boiling water to steep the tea, positioned nearby to observe the unfolding mahjong match. They engaged in the common variant of mahjong played here, the Hundred Dollar Pong, a game where fortunes were won and lost, the stakes running into thousands after a single round.

My vantage point afforded visibility of Mei's and her neighbour's tiles. The latter, a woman akin in age to Mei, exhibited a stark contrast in demeanour. Though possessing a commendable appearance, her ostentatious attire and heavily applied cosmetics belied a flamboyant disposition. Clad in a low-cut black blouse, she flaunted her ample bosom with a nonchalant display.

Observing the game, a sense of peculiarity overcame me. Initially perceived as a friendly gathering, the interactions between the woman in black and her male counterpart hinted at illicit collaboration. Their method of cheating was rather pedestrian, a common form of subterfuge in mahjong known as "Nine-Joint Whip," utilizing subtle gestures and cues to request specific tiles.

In this instance, the woman in black was aiming for a pure suit's hand. She subtly tapped her left thumb while positioning her right hand near the tail end of the tiles, fixated on her hand without diverting her gaze. Conversely, the male opponent's gaze flickered towards the woman in black, harbouring a telltale uncertainty. Midway through the round, he discarded an eight of bamboo, promptly seized by the woman in black.

As I pondered the unfolding events, I contemplated whether it was a mere coincidence. However, subsequent actions dispelled any doubts as the woman in black continued signalling for tiles, reaffirming my suspicions. Speculating internally, I anticipated her intent to secure a quintet of bamboo. True to form, within a couple of rounds, the five of bamboo emerged at her bidding, culminating in her swift self-drawn win.

Concealed hand, Terminals, Pure Suits, Pong, yielding a total of 24 points, translating to two thousand four hundred dollars per individual in Mei's group. The gambit of cheating in mahjong encompassed a plethora of methods, with the manipulation of gestures, akin to the duo's stratagem, dubbed the "Nine-Joint Whip," leveraging finger joints to communicate covert signals.

Although I could discern the duo's deceit, elucidating their motives or divulging their actions to Mei remained beyond my prerogative. Just as I finished preparing the tea, the male individual across from Mei received a phone call. Following a brief conversation, he promptly excused himself due to his child falling ill, expressing his intent to depart and forgoing further play. Bemoaning the sudden departure, the woman in black, addressed as Flower by Mei, criticized his behaviour, insinuating his aversion to losing and propensity for making excuses.

Mei, nonchalantly shuffling the mahjong tiles in front of her, responded with a serene smile, "Flower, among the three of us, with everyone facing losses except you, how much more do you crave to win?"

Flower swiftly tallied her winnings, expressing her dissatisfaction at not yet surpassing thirty thousand. Pressed by Flower's persistence, Mei rummaged through her phone contacts, deliberating on whom to invite for play. After a moment's pause, she turned to me, while brewing the tea, and inquired, "Lupan, are you acquainted with mahjong? Join us for a few rounds."

Surprised by Mei's impromptu invitation, I promptly responded, "I possess some familiarity, yet the stakes are beyond my means to participate." Such games were well within my grasp even without bringing funds to the table, years of cheating techniques ingrained through Varg's tutelage.

The essence of a seasoned gambler necessitated a facade of modesty, feigning ignorance and humility. Only in the shadows of perceived ineptitude could one truly wield a decisive blow when the time was ripe.

Reassuring me, Mei declared, "No worries, any losses will be mine to bear, and any winnings yours to claim. Come, take your place." With a casual toss, Mei laid a stack of ten-thousand-dollar bills on the designated spot, beckoning me to join the game—an offer I couldn't refuse.

Seated across Mei, in the year 2000, before the advent of mahjong machines, manual tile handling prevailed in our games. Such traditional tile-handling mechanisms provided the ideal playground for skilled gamblers to exercise their cunning.

During the shuffling process, Flower, in her black attire, purposely brushed against my hand, playfully inquiring, "Oh, this lad seems rather fresh. Tell me, any love interests? Are you yet a novice in affairs of the heart?" She giggled at her jest, prompting amusement from Mei and the other gentleman, while I maintained a stoic demeanour, focused on the mahjong tiles before me.

In refining my deceitful techniques under Varg's mentorship, the initial step entailed ingraining the ability to not only memorize one's tiles but also to retain a mental catalogue of all exposed tiles during the game. This mnemonic skill, integral to ensuring a substantial winning margin, proved invaluable even in instances where cheating wasn't employed.