Chapter 9: You Really Have Some Nerve

—What if I win?
Qin gave a slight smile and shook off Ye Linglan’s hand. “If I’m taking her away, I never considered losing.”
In fact, it was well known that although Mo Zhicheng ran the largest casino in Nanjiang, he himself rarely gambled. Qin’s words made it clear: by using this woman as a provocation, he was forcing Mo Zhicheng to make an exception. Moreover, the gambling industry was regulated by publicly auctioned licenses, and Qin’s father was a high-ranking official in Nanjiang. With a single person’s rise, all around him prospered; Qin had been the center of attention since childhood. Many in the industry hardly dared breathe in his presence. There was a saying among them: better to offend the king in heaven than to cross Young Master Qin.
“If I win, tonight’s matter ends here.” Mo Zhicheng arched an eyebrow and smiled faintly. “What do you say, Young Master Qin?”
Qin said nothing, which was tacit consent.
Only then did Mo Zhicheng rise, slipping one hand into his pocket and standing beside the sofa where she leaned. Looking down at the disheveled woman, Ye Linglan clutched her shirt to her chest, retreating a few steps in instinctive defense. She heard the man’s low murmur: “Deal the cards.”
Ye Linglan knew that Mo Zhicheng had already deduced from her attire that she was not a hostess, but a croupier. Her face was still pale, but as Mo Zhicheng and Qin each took their seats, she drew herself from her fright, turned away, and began buttoning her shirt one by one, her slender fingers still trembling. She loosened her ponytail, letting her dark hair fall in waves, and braced herself on the sofa to stand with difficulty.
Now she had become the wager in their game. As she walked toward the table, her steps felt as heavy as stone.
“What does Mr. Mo prefer to play?” Qin asked.
“Anything,” Mo Zhicheng replied, sitting with effortless grace, leaning back as he undid the button of his suit, revealing a waistcoat in matching tones.
“How about blackjack?”
“That will do.”
“One round to decide it all?”
Mo Zhicheng lowered his eyes and nodded with a faint smile. “As Young Master Qin wishes, I will accompany you to the end.” He turned and glanced at her. “Cut the cards.”
Ye Linglan closed her eyes and sighed softly. When she opened them again, she was much calmer.
Blackjack, also known as twenty-one, is played with a standard deck of fifty-two cards, excluding jokers. The goal is to have cards totaling no more than twenty-one, and as close as possible to that number. Cards two through ten are valued at their face number; jacks, queens, and kings are worth ten; aces can be counted as one or eleven. The rules seem simple, but reading your opponent’s hand is crucial.
With her left hand, Linglan gently lifted the cards from the table. With her right, she pulled a stack from the center and set it down, cutting the deck in the practiced ‘tower’ style.
The game began. Linglan dealt two cards each to Mo Zhicheng and Qin, one face up and one face down.
She glanced at the neatly arranged cards on the table. Her deep eyes narrowed—Mo Zhicheng’s upcard was the four of spades, Qin’s was the six of clubs. Qin lit a cigarette, considering his options.
Mo Zhicheng’s expression didn’t change. The value of a single upcard meant little. He picked up his hole card, glanced at it quickly, and a subtle light flickered in his eyes. He glanced at Ye Linglan, his brows faintly knit.
She turned away and looked at Qin. Qin hesitated slightly; his hidden card was a five, bringing his total to just under seventeen—a troublesome total. Mo Zhicheng’s upcard was only a four, but if his face-down card was a face card, Qin would lose. At this, Qin chose to fold, and Mo Zhicheng followed suit.