Chapter 125: Following the Lame Man

The man overseeing the floor was named Li Daoshi—literally "Taoist Li"—a nickname that stuck because he liked to wear his hair long, tied in a ponytail to show off his personality. Everyone just called him "Old Dao."

The baccarat table was packed. Some of his subordinates had already called him over to take a look. They had just paid out over 200,000 in a single hand, and the gamblers were ecstatic, their eyes bloodshot and their excitement resembling that of a rutting dog.

"Brother Li, the No. 3 table just paid out 220,000 in chips on this hand alone. In such a short time, that table has already paid out nearly 500,000!"

Considering the entire establishment only netted 200,000 to 300,000 a day, hemorrhaging half a million at once made it difficult to answer to the boss.

Li Daoshi lifted his eyelids to glance at Table 3. He checked the surveillance footage, reviewing the dealer’s movements in slow motion. The dealer’s technique was impeccable; there were no violations, no collusion. Could there be a card shark among them?

"It’s fine. No matter how much they win, we pay! As long as they keep playing. Look at them—they’re already in a gambling frenzy. They aren't even taking their winnings off the table. One loss and the books will be balanced. What are you worried about?" Old Dao said with absolute confidence.

Losing a few hundred thousand in a day wasn't unheard of. As long as these addicts didn't kick their habit, they would eventually bring the money back.

A familiar gambler, flushed with the success of his win, bragged to everyone nearby, "I won 200,000 today!" In truth, such people deserve a slap across the face. As long as you keep playing, you never know whose money it really is. Only when you chop off your own hands and vow never to touch gambling again, and then settle the final accounts, does the win actually count.

But by that point, most gamblers have already lost everything.

In the seventh round, the surveillance showed the limping man betting all his chips on a "Pair." Old Dao smiled to himself; the man was overconfident in his luck.

The secret of the casino was something even the floor staff and dealers didn't know. In Boss Laowai's establishment, only Old Dao knew that the card-shuffling machine was computer-controlled. That was why he wasn't the least bit nervous. The computer program would sometimes create the illusion of a winning streak to lure gamblers in, but it would never allow so many people to hit an 11-to-1 payout at once. Perhaps that might happen in a massive Macau casino, but in this small joint, it was impossible.

Even knowing it was impossible, Li Daoshi was caught up in the atmosphere. He stared at the monitor, scrutinizing every move the dealer made. The dealer was terrified, knowing she had to avoid suspicion. She followed the training protocols to the letter, then flipped the cards—

A pair!

A dozen people had bet on the pair. Some had put down a thousand or two, while the biggest players had gone all-in with the limping man, putting up 20,000 to 30,000 each. The dealer swallowed hard before announcing, "Banker, a pair of sixes..."

The dealer’s voice was drowned out. The winners went wild, while those who had hesitated to bet were left beating their chests in regret. Some who had placed smaller bets cursed themselves for not betting more. The dealer totted up the chips on the table; a rough calculation told her that this final hand would cost them nearly three million!

The limping man was sensible. He turned his 20,000 into 220,000, and not wanting to be greedy, he scooped up his chips and headed straight for the cage. He slammed them onto the counter: "Cash out!"

At the baccarat table, everyone who had won money following the limping man tried to keep him there, hoping to keep the luck going, but the man wouldn't budge. He remembered what the "Literary God of Wealth" had told him: get out before eight o'clock!

As the limping man cashed out, seven or eight others followed, clamoring to do the same. With all that money, they were off to celebrate—perhaps a "health spa" visit. The massive pile of chips clearly exceeded the cashier's authority. The attendant rushed to the surveillance room to find Li Daoshi.

Facing a three-million-dollar loss, Li Daoshi couldn't handle it alone. He had seen everything on the monitor and was already calling Laowai. Whether or not to pay out was entirely up to the boss.

"We’re in the shadows business. If you walk the night path long enough, you're bound to run into ghosts. Did you check the footage? Is the dealer clean?"

Li Daoshi replied, "I felt something was off, but the dealer’s movements were perfect—not a single wasted motion. And in baccarat, players don't even touch the cards. I really couldn't see how they cheated!"

On the other end of the line, Laowai’s voice remained calm: "If you run a casino, don't be afraid of people winning. Pay them out, then we’ll conduct a thorough internal investigation to find out where the problem lies. Also, have someone follow that limping man!"

...

"Jiang Xiaotao is hiding in Laowai’s place. Are you going to tell them, or am I?"

A few hours earlier, Wen Xiaocheng had called Lei Yang out to the same small restaurant where they had met the limping man, though this time he ordered much more food. Xiaocheng didn't care about the waste; he wasn't the one paying.

Lei Yang looked terrible. The black eye Xiaocheng had given him hadn't fully faded, but he didn't dare refuse the summons.

"I’ve already told you where Xiaotao is hiding. He’s helping out at Laowai’s place. The manager is named Li Daoshi. I can even give you the address—it’s the same place where the limping man lost his money..."

Lei Yang no longer had the bravado of "Brother Lei." He didn't even dare lift his head in front of Xiaocheng.

"I’m asking you: are you going to provide this lead to the police, or am I?"

Xiaocheng explained it to him again. "To put it bluntly, are you going to betray your brother Jiang Xiaotao, or am I? If I do it, it doesn't count as betrayal, since he’s not my brother."

Lei Yang was filled with shame and anger. "You go report it. I don't want to do it myself."

Xiaocheng was busy devouring the braised pork ribs. He waited until he swallowed a large piece of meat before saying, "That’s fine. I don't mind making a phone call. But if the police ask me where I got the lead, what should I say?"

"You just..."

Lei Yang realized the trap. If Xiaocheng reported Jiang Xiaotao's location, he couldn't claim he just happened to see him. It would inevitably point back to Lei Yang, which would make him guilty of withholding information or even harboring a fugitive.

"But..." Lei Yang hesitated.

"Waiter, another order of sweet and sour pork ribs!" Xiaocheng wiped his greasy mouth and said to Lei Yang, "You’ve already betrayed him; is this hypocritical act of yours really necessary? I hate people like you who want to play the whore and still demand a monument to your chastity. Do you think hiding him is the end of it? The Municipal Criminal Investigation Brigade is involved. That knife wound was deep—it hit his internal organs. That’s a serious injury! Do you think they’ll just let it go? They’ll definitely put Jiang Xiaotao on the wanted list!"

"Jiang Xiaotao will definitely be caught. With no money and no connections, where can he run? I don't know if this kid is a loyal friend who would take a bullet for you, even after you’ve already stabbed him in the back. If he takes the fall alone and spends three years in prison, then it’s all over. But what if he says, 'Lei Yang told me to stab him'? What will you do then? Do you think everyone has the courage to face three years in prison? Especially once they’re in detention! I don't know Xiaotao that well. Is he some kind of die-hard communist hero who would rather die than betray your 'revolutionary' bromance?"