Chapter 204: Searching for the Gambling Stall

Following the villagers' directions, I and Pangzi went to the town hospital, bought some apples, oranges and the like to go see Grandma Huang.

We saw the wan Grandma Huang in the hospital ward; his complexion was not good, his whitened sideburns making him look even older. I and Pangzi considered Grandma Huang's future lodging, planning to go to the county town to find a welfare home after we capture the Masked Beast, to settle this old person who lost a son.

However, this worry of ours was unnecessary; Grandma Huang has a niece named Huang Yan. She married into the county town when she was still young. Huang Yan's parents passed away when she was young, leaving only Grandma Huang as her maternal relative. In fact, Huang Yan had long thought of bringing Grandma Huang to live with her. But this old person has always clung to the rural ancestral home: first, she cannot bear to leave the family house she has lived in and grown attached to; second, she guards the dilapidated rural ancestral home, waiting for Chen Biao, this unfilial son, to change his heart.

Now Chen Biao has left, Grandma Huang is alone and has nowhere to go. Huang Yan thinks of bringing Grandma Huang to live together, so that the elder has a place to spend her later years, and also so she can show filial devotion to this aunt.

"Aunt Huang, this is our little token; please accept it first, buy some things to nourish Grandma Huang well." In the hospital corridor, Pangzi shoved five thousand yuan into Huang Yan's pocket. It was clear that although Huang Yan had moved out of the county town, her home conditions were not good either; from her plain clothes and her hands covered in calluses, one could see she was also from an ordinary farming family.

Huang Yan was full, refusing to take Pangzi's money. She said my aunt had previously asked you to tell fortunes, and the incense-oil money hasn't been paid yet. How could I still take your money?

"The incense money of gods and buddhas is taken from believers; if believers have need, they should also selflessly offer it. Whether Daoist or Buddhist, they speak of a compassionate heart that saves all beings." Pangzi tightly grasped Huang Yan's hand and said: "So you needn't stand on ceremony. If you truly regard me as a Daoist, then accept this money. Treat Grandma Huang better, be more filial. A family with an elder is like having a treasure; instructing the elder will bring blessings."

"It's time, let's go!" I glanced at my watch and gave Pangzi a look.

The two bade farewell to Huang Yan, then entered the ward again to say goodbye to Grandma Huang. After that, I and Pangzi left the hospital and split up: one went to town to inquire about the gambling den's whereabouts, the other guarded the lamb stall.

Naturally, the task of investigating the gambling den fell to me, while guarding the lamb stall fell to Pangzi. As Daoists, we don't eat dogs or cattle, only pigs and sheep. However, I am naturally averse to the muttony smell of sheep, while Pangzi, this glutton, naturally loves eating mutton.

I estimate that with Pangzi's appetite, while waiting like a stalker, he could at least finish off half a sheep. A glutton is always the best cover for a detective; hardly anyone would suspect the roadside stall, the mutton shop where that big eater Pangzi stuffs himself.

After splitting up, I went to the bank to withdraw some money, then ran into a narrow alley that looked rather chaotic and had a complex flow of people.

In this alley there were big and small game arcades and mahjong stalls. Generally speaking, gambling dens are hidden in places with mixed crowds that are not easy to notice. Of course, except for Macau and Hong Kong.

From dusk onward, I kept loitering in this alley. I deliberately took off my hat, revealed my bald head, held a cigarette, opened my chest, and truly became the image of a wayward youth.

Occasionally I would take out money, go to the stall to buy lucky tickets, whether it was Fight the Landlord, or playing cards, bullfighting, or Three Public. As long as the gamblers permit, onlookers can buy lucky tickets; some places also call it buying numbers. You can press your money directly onto any person, or you can arbitrarily draw a card from another deck; the former method applies to many kinds of gambling, while the latter usually only applies to Fight the Landlord.

After gambling a few rounds at the street-side small gambling stalls and losing some money, I deliberately, when the crowd grew thicker, held my cigarette and swore fiercely: "Damn, betting on this little thing is really suffocating; back and forth, you only get a few scattered points, it's boring, really boring."

I deliberately acted with a contemptuous attitude, sighed heavily, and revealed a corner of the money in my wallet. Of course, I understand not to show off wealth this way; while revealing wealth, I also revealed the small knife I had just bought.

With my current eye bags and the impression of a bald one-eyed dragon, I estimate that even if someone wanted to mess with me, they'd have to weigh whether they're up to it.

Sure enough, after I loudly complained with sighs for a few sentences, a timid, short-statured man actually edged over to me.

This man was also bald, looked a few years older than me, but was shorter in stature, and at a glance you could tell he was the type whose body had been hollowed out by drink and lust, often staying up late, a rascal loafer.

This guy came up to my side, patted my shoulder, and whispered with a sneaky smile: "Brother, I heard you want to play a big one?"

Upon hearing that, I secretly thought the opportunity had come. My expression unchanged, I feigned impatience and asked: "How, do you have a good recommendation?"

The bald man didn't answer me directly, but after glancing around cautiously, he gestured furtively: "Over there, they say there are often plainclothes cops patrolling this area."

I followed him to a dark corner of the alley; the bald man took out a cigarette from his pack and handed it to me, then he himself played with that cigarette, smilingly probing: "Little brother, are you from Guangdong?"

I held the cigarette, gave him a contemptuous look, and impatiently shouted: "What's it to you whether I'm from Guangdong or Guangxi? If you know a good spot, say it quick; if not, get lost."

Having said that, I prepared to turn and leave.

"Hey hey hey, little brother, don't go, don't go!" Seeing I was about to turn and leave, the bald man hurriedly grabbed me, apologetically smiling: "Don't be angry! I'm not worried you're a cop sent by the authorities, that's why I asked a couple more questions."

"Cop, do I look like a cop to you?" I gave him a disdainful glance, held the cigarette butt, lifted my head to the sky, and my unruly rascal aura was evident.

"Let me tell you the truth: I have a brother who, I heard, won a big pile of money here a couple of days ago. After returning to the village, you wouldn't believe how arrogant he got. I can't stand his attitude, so I'm thinking of making a big fortune, trying my luck, then going back to compete with him." I deliberately hinted at Chen Biao's rural background in the conversation.

Unexpectedly, upon hearing this, the bald man immediately became energized.

"You mean Biaozi, right? I know his affairs; that money was won at Master Bao's venue. Master Bao's venue is the most righteous around here. In his place, if you have the skill to win money, you can take it away; there won't be any black‑on‑black theft." The bald man, upon hearing I and Chen Biao came from the same village, lowered his guard considerably. However, this bald man is no fool; he soon noticed something odd.

"No way, you're from Guangdong, Biaozi is a local. How can you be from the same village?" The bald man took two puffs of his cigarette, stared at me warily, stepped back two steps, and I instantly broke out in a cold sweat.

"Well… actually… I am actually a local. It's just that my father does business in Guangdong, so I've lived there since childhood and rarely return to the countryside. Hence my accent leans toward Cantonese, a bit heavy." A flash of inspiration struck me; I came up with this excuse, then took out my ID, covered the name, leaving only the surname for the bald man to see.

"See, I also have the surname Chen, so we are clansmen with Biaozi."

In rural villages, people with the same surname are common. When I produced this ID, the bald man couldn't see it very clearly, but he also dispelled his inner doubts.

"Now, can you take me to Master Bao's venue?" I spread my hands and asked.

"That's naturally no problem!" The bald man rubbed his hands, gave a dry laugh, then extended his hand, halted it mid‑air making a money‑gesturing motion while laughing: "But you know the rule."

"Well… the rule?" I hadn't yet processed it.

"The rule, you don't know it, happy money." The bald man anxiously and doubtfully looked at me and asked: "You really don't know this rule?"

I shook my head, bewildered: "What are you talking about, what happy money? Do I have to pay you to have fun? You can't even give me fun, uh…"

Suddenly, this chat pattern felt off.

The short bald man didn't notice the mistake in my words, but anxiously gave me an explanation.

The so‑called happy money is an unwritten rule among these people. It's like being a pimp: in today's cities, if you go out late at night, take a motorcycle or even a taxi, the drivers will mysteriously, smirkingly ask you: "Want to go have some fun?"

Their fun means taking you to find women. Don't wonder why they go to such trouble.

Because, in the prostitution money you give, they get a cut—several dozen at least, up to a hundred. This is the so‑called happy money; some places also call it water fee, pumping water.

The happy money this bald man talked about is no different from the cut of the prostitution money. In short, he uses his connections to lead you into the gambling den, and you have to pay him for guiding you; afterward, the gambling den will reward him with a share, and both sides collect money.

In order to track the Masked Beast's movements, I had no hesitation in agreeing to him.

Afterward, the bald man furtively led me around another corner of the alley, winding nine times and eighteen bends, taking me through the dark lanes.

Finally, after half an hour, the bald man led me into the underground parking lot of a shopping mall, and inside the parking lot there was another passage.

Inside, there was another world.