Chapter 37: Dividing the Spoils

As the game progressed, Xiao Cheng became increasingly adept at controlling the table. After just four or five tiles with each turn of the dice, he could completely grasp the situation, and pretty much decide who would win at will. The player to his left, Old Hei, liked to hold onto the green, red, and white dragons for two rounds; if he had multiple wind tiles, he followed the peculiar logic of “never regret discarding North, never lose money discarding South.” The player to his right, Ding the Cripple, always kept wind tiles and dragons if he had more than three pairs, hoping for a big hand, unless someone else discarded one and he had to follow suit. Clearly, Ding hadn’t recognized Xiao Cheng; after all, they’d only seen each other once, five years ago in court, when Xiao Cheng hadn’t even grown yet—now he was nearly six feet tall.

Under Xiao Cheng’s manipulation, the game played out smoothly. Both Ding the Cripple and Old Hei won more than a quarter of the hands. If Professor Dai didn’t have a promising hand, Xiao Cheng would let one of the two win, but whenever Professor Dai was close to a big, sweeping hand, Xiao Cheng would subtly adjust the draw order to ensure the old man could win by self-draw. After several rounds, the old man caught on and focused solely on Seven Pairs—one big win could sweep the table. Although he won less frequently, the money in his box steadily increased.

As for Xiao Cheng himself, he often chose to win a big hand just after a round started, ending it quickly and starting fresh. This way, he didn’t attract attention, while quietly pocketing the winnings. The two on either side, despite their losses, occasionally managed small wins to keep their spirits up, but their pockets grew lighter and lighter.

Professor Dai and Xiao Cheng alternated big wins; after about a dozen rounds, the two of them had already amassed nearly five hundred. With noon approaching, Xiao Cheng caught Professor Dai’s eye, and the old man understood, stretching his back and saying, “Last round. After this, let’s go eat.”

“Old man, your luck’s so strong today. Why not keep playing?” Old Hei piped up, not yet satisfied with his losses.

“I’m getting old—can’t sit this long, my back can’t take it.”

Ding the Cripple had been tired since his night watch, but after losing over a hundred, he still refused to give in, hoping to keep the old man for a while longer. But with his wallet empty, there was nothing he could do.

Xiao Cheng played along, yawning, “Alright, last round. After this, I’m going home to sleep!”

The four of them finished the final round, and left the mahjong parlor one after another. Xiao Cheng, to stagger his timing, bought a bottle of cola at the counter. He trailed Professor Dai from a distance, only catching up after they’d crossed two streets. Winning money was the greatest entertainment; though the old man had little interest in mahjong before, raking in over three hundred in a morning left him elated. When Xiao Cheng asked for his cut, the old man scoffed, “I won this—why should I share it with you?”

Xiao Cheng pointed skyward. “Look, a UFO!” As the old man glanced up, the bills were already in Xiao Cheng’s hands. Xiao Cheng fished out sixty in change and stuffed it into Professor Dai’s pocket, rolling his eyes, “Why share? We agreed on this!”

Professor Dai wasn’t truly hung up on the money, but he still felt a bit indignant. “I only won because I was lucky, catching big hands—not thanks to you. Why do you deserve eighty percent?”

Xiao Cheng snorted dismissively, “That last round, you started off with a pair of red dragons, four, five, six, eight of characters, three four-dots, and a set of seven, eight, nine-dots, with only a two-bamboo and a missing suit. Your first draw was East Wind, second a one-character, third a five-dot—you thought it useless and discarded it…”

The more Professor Dai listened, the wider his eyes grew. Xiao Cheng recounted every card and draw in that final round without a single mistake. Even if he had watched from behind, such detailed recall would be impressive, let alone having sat across from him, never once glancing at his hand!

“And that Seven Pairs win—you started with five pairs and three singles: four-characters, nine-bamboo, and six-dot. I couldn’t tip you off, but if you’d just kept that nine-bamboo, you’d have drawn the second one two turns later and been ready to win. But as soon as someone discarded nine-bamboo, you did too, so I had to break up a set for the next player to chow, just so you could draw the six-dot! Didn’t you notice that before every self-draw win, I either ate or ponged myself, or played a tile for someone else to chow or pong? All just to set you up!”

Professor Dai’s eyes were so wide you could have fit a forty-watt bulb in his mouth. “You can see through the tiles?”

Xiao Cheng curled his lip. “Told you already—just card counting.”

Professor Dai was still aghast. He’d thought Xiao Cheng’s “card counting” just meant keeping track of played tiles each round, using deduction to infer opponents’ hands and possible wins. He never imagined the boy memorized all 136 mahjong tiles and could calculate every hand at the table in real time, even intervening through his own discards and melds.

“I thought… I thought… the two in the middle won quite a few times too, so I thought you were just doing limited calculations…” The professor was tongue-tied.

What you think you know isn’t always what you actually know.

Before, when playing chess and solving endgame puzzles, he’d thought the kid was just clever—a genius, perhaps. But this wasn’t genius; this was monstrous.

“No need to be amazed—true masters walk among the people. I have errands this afternoon, so I’ll be off. Tomorrow morning, I’ll need you to drive me to school again, old man. See you!”

Xiao Cheng turned and walked away, leaving Professor Dai dazed at the street corner. The old man did nothing else that afternoon; he bought a set of mahjong tiles and played with them at home. He could remember the positions of four tiles after shuffling them around, but with six he started making mistakes. At eight, even shuffling slowly, he could only recall three or four. He even tried sixteen in the end—utter chaos, impossible to remember! Yet Xiao Cheng had tracked all 136 tiles with eight hands shuffling at once.

Meanwhile, no more than five minutes after leaving Professor Dai, Xiao Cheng sensed someone tailing him. Although his sight and hearing hadn’t noticeably improved since his awakening, his brain’s ability to process information had grown tremendously! In the noisy street, he could easily separate and analyze different sounds. The footsteps behind him—one heavy, one light, hurried and uneven—spoke of someone struggling to keep up. That distinctive gait needed no looking back: it could only be Ding the Cripple.

Without changing pace, he kept in sync with his pursuer, his mind racing. Why was Ding following him? Was he desperate after his losses, hoping to rob his winnings back? Xiao Cheng wasn’t worried about a fight; even if Ding was stronger as an adult, his limp would slow him down—at worst, Xiao Cheng could outrun him. But what exactly did the cripple want?

Once again, Wen Xiaodao appeared at his side, strolling along leisurely. “That cripple isn’t satisfied with losing his money—he’s about to give you a much bigger gift!”

———

Four people, playing mahjong with all hands revealed (including the draws), turns the game into a true test of intellect and memory. This was Old Dao’s invention! It’s the first day of the month—cast your vote and show your support!