Chapter 1: Why Am I Playing Mahjong When I

At ten at night, the smell, smoke, and sweat in the mahjong parlor were nauseating; the clatter from every table mixed with greed, fear, and hope, exhausting the tense, uneasy atmosphere.

In this atmosphere, Feng Xue stood out sharply from the others—he read the situation, knew when to advance and when to retreat, and while the gamblers around him were red-eyed from losses, his stack of chips had already piled into a small mountain.

His eyes bore heavy dark circles; years of sleepless nights had left him looking utterly drained.

Such physical state usually appeared in addicts who gambled day and night, yet in Feng Xue’s weary gaze, not a trace of greed could be found—no, his eyes held no focus at all; he seemed like a machine devoid of joy or sorrow, endlessly repeating the cycle of drawing and discarding tiles.

Suddenly, the mechanical young man straightened his back—and at that exact moment, the opponent who had just drawn a tile turned ashen.

He stared at the red five of circles in his hand, then looked up at Feng Xue’s discard pile, clearly revealing a pure pin sequence, and cold sweat trickled uncontrollably down his temple.

But since he had declared riichi, he had to discard whatever he drew—even if he knew this tile would almost certainly cost him the hand—he gritted his teeth and slammed it onto the table.

“Man kan, man kan, man kan, man kan...”

He silently prayed the young man across from him would win with a smaller hand; he didn’t even dare hope for a mixed one-color, yet as the red five of circles touched the table, it was as if a great bell had just exploded in his ears.

A look of profound relief flickered across Feng Xue’s mechanical face; his neatly arranged hand fell like dominoes, and with each tile striking the table, it was as if a colossal wave crashed against a cliff.

“Wu Li, Rong, Pure Nine Gates Treasure Lamp, Double Yakuman.”

“What?” The opponent’s eyes seemed to spurt blood as he leapt to his feet; Feng Xue, however, calmly gathered his chips into his backpack, the emotions he had suppressed for so long finally breaking free.

Seeing the stunning hand, the gambler thought of the amount he had just lost, and blood rushed to his head—he blurted out without thinking:

“Brat! You dare win with Pure Nine Gates? Watch out—you’ve only got nine years left to live!”

The moment he spoke, the once-noisy mahjong parlor fell silent; every eye turned toward him, and many gamblers abandoned their own games just to witness the rare Pure Nine Gates Treasure Lamp.

But then a single, measured cough rang out, and everyone stepped aside—soon, the parlor’s owner walked forward calmly, meeting the gambler’s gaze with quiet, crushing authority:

“Everyone’s here to play. Know what to say, and what not to say—maintain decorum...”

The gambler, flushed with adrenaline, instantly turned cold and stammered:

“S-sorry, Mr. Chen, I just...”

“Forget it, Uncle Chen. I don’t believe in that stuff anyway.” Feng Xue placed his full bag of chips on the table and smiled at the imposing owner.

“Same as always—thirty percent for everyone’s late-night snacks, the rest just deposit into my account.”

With that, he let out a huge yawn and walked out of the parlor, reeking of smoke, as the guests watched him with complex expressions.

Did he really not believe it?

He believed it too much!

Looking at the number above his head jump from 43 to 3287, Feng Xue nodded in satisfaction—

“That’s exactly my goal!”

The cheerful young man returned home, collapsed onto his bed, and the whole story began half a month ago...

“Shit! How the hell did I wake up in another world?”

Feng Xue stood bewildered in the bathroom, staring at his reflection—a face familiar yet alien, still youthful and full of disbelief.

But more than the younger version of himself in the mirror, he fixated on the golden number hovering above his head—

60.

“What the hell? A cheat skill? My remaining lifespan?” As an insider (a web novel writer), Feng Xue was used to reincarnation and cheat skills—but as he pondered, the number above his head flickered... then changed to 59.

“Oh shit. I’m done.”

He pulled out his phone, checked the time: 00:00. The excitement from his reincarnation and cheat skill instantly turned icy. All he hoped now was that this 59 meant days—not hours, not minutes.

Whether from mental stress or simply waking up (after reincarnation), he felt his vision was slightly blurred, like smudges on his glasses.

Before he could rub his eyes, as his focus sharpened, a new perspective suddenly unfolded.

It was a third-person over-the-shoulder view, with the same field of vision and range as his naked eye—but its position was adjustable: any point within a two-meter radius centered on the midpoint between his eyes could serve as the viewpoint, as long as the line of sight faced directly toward the center of his eye line.

In this over-the-shoulder view, he still saw the number above his head—but now, a small “lock” icon appeared before it.

“Can this lock my lifespan?” A spark of hope rose in Feng Xue—he immediately locked it, then realized he’d acted impulsively—but as soon as he thought to undo it, the lock opened again.

“Oh? So I can lock and unlock it anytime?”

Feng Xue was surprised, but didn’t dwell on it. Since reincarnation and lifespan had become facts, dwelling on the past was useless—he needed to find a way out.

After briefly adapting to the “over-the-shoulder view,” Feng Xue locked his remaining lifespan and began a meticulous, obsessive investigation—like a completionist scouring every corner of a game.

Though he hadn’t inherited the original body’s memories, thanks to the internet age and biometric authentication, he could log into the body’s online banking via fingerprint, retrieve past data through browser password saves, and once he found the ID card, changing bank passwords became trivial.

In the following days, after discovering the “lock” function couldn’t halt his lifespan’s decay, he scoured this world—superficially resembling a light novel setting—for ways to extend his life.

He started with hospitals, then temples and Daoist monasteries. Alongside gathering numerous potential solutions, he developed an instinctive grasp of the conversion between days and years, and even grew familiar with the abstract cheat skill.

But truly reliable methods were scarce.

Until, on the fourth day after reincarnation, he saw a news report about a professional mahjong player who had, for the first time in history, won a Pure Nine Gates Treasure Lamp in an official match—and above the man’s head, an abnormal number glowed:

3286.

New book uploaded, please collect, recommend, and support!

ps: Congratulations to the observant readers who spotted the hidden detail! How long did it take you to notice?



(End of Chapter)