Chapter 331: Opening the Door

Plop, a copper coin fell into the cup.

Mei Lin tore her gaze from the gambler’s cup and studied the Chinese woman across from her: her lips bit softly, tears glistened at her eyes, her shoulders trembled with fear, her breath shook—her face, streaked with tears like pear blossoms in rain, was heartbreakingly fragile, leaving Mei Lin momentarily stunned.

She had seen this expression before—at a bridge tourist spot, on the bungee jump platform, where first-time jumpers, pulled back up by their safety ropes, wore exactly this look of post-traumatic terror; the woman before her bore the same expression as those terrified extreme-sport novices, every micro-expression and involuntary gesture betraying her utter terror, her fragile psyche on the verge of collapse—this was indeed a deeply timid woman.

But even a rabbit will bite when cornered, won’t it?

Mei Lin shifted her gaze from Ning Zhe and glanced at the gambler: two copper coins already rested at the bottom of his cup, yet his turn was not over; his pale, stiff fingers pinched another coin from the table and lifted it directly above the cup.

The gambler’s movements were rigid, slow, and precise—every joint flexed, every muscle fiber stretched and contracted with unshakable stability, not a single tremor, like an automated robotic arm on an assembly line, executing programmed motions with errors measured in “silk.”

Mei Lin knew she could never do this—after all, humans are not machines.

But ghosts are.

Plop, a copper coin gently sank into the cup, vanishing instantly to the bottom; golden liquor bubbled up in a string of golden bubbles. The liquid level rose past the rim, surface tension stretching the surface into a taut arc—like a balloon inflated to its limit, ready to burst in the next second.

“It’s at its limit,” said Bé Dàng, seated to Ning Zhe’s left, his eyes fixed on the gambler’s cup, now on the brink of overflow.

The gambler’s cup was at its absolute limit; the fragile balance could shatter at any moment—even without adding a fourth coin, a slight tremor of the table or a subtle quake of the floor would fracture the swollen arc of liquid.

Yes, just once. Just a little.

Beneath the table, Bé Dàng’s leg twitched unnaturally; his toe nudged against the leg of the table.

“Just once. Just a little.” Bé Dàng whispered silently to himself.

The instant the thought formed, a chilling dread surged from deep within his heart—fear erupted as cold sweat from every pore, soaking his spine; he looked up and saw the gambler’s pale face.

“Cheating in front of the gambler means death,” Ning Zhe thought silently.

Xia Yubing had told him in her notebook what happened to the man named A Lun who had tried to cheat.

Ning Zhe hunched his shoulders, wiping tears pathetically from his eyes; his peripheral vision caught Bé Dàng frozen in terror, so he turned his gaze away again.

Mei Lin glanced between Ning Zhe and Bé Dàng, biting her lip thoughtfully.

Then the gambler raised his hand again—his pale, stiff index finger extended like a pencil, pointing straight at Bé Dàng, still dazed in his seat.

“Next is him.”

Immediately, the gambler raised his other hand and pointed at Bé Dàng again.

“And the one after that—him too… the gambler holds a grudge.” Ning Zhe wiped tears from his eyes with the back of his hand, studying the gambler’s rigid face: “Does the gambler hate Bé Dàng more than me?”

Of course—he had targeted the gambler twice, but only within the rules; Bé Dàng had tried to shake the table, attempting to cheat and force the gambler to lose—this was a complete betrayal of fairness and the game’s rules.

“So breaking the rules by cheating draws more hatred from the gambler than edge-case rule manipulation,” Ning Zhe noted silently. Now it was Bé Dàng’s turn to drop two coins into the cup.

Bé Dàng took several deep breaths to calm himself, picked up a copper coin, and carefully prepared to place it above the cup’s rim; Mei Lin, across the table, watched his hands with tense, solemn eyes.

The liquid in the gambler’s cup was already at its limit—no more coins could be added. If Bé Dàng survived his turn and designated the gambler as the next player, the gambler would inevitably lose, and all three of them could escape the ghost’s grasp unharmed.

But… was it really that simple? Ning Zhe narrowed his eyes, mentally reviewing all known information:

1. The wandering gambler randomly drags people into a gambling game, forcing them to play under rules that vary by circumstance.

2. Every game type encountered so far has always involved the concepts of “win” and “lose,” and a “stake.”

3. Players who cheat are immediately declared losers, forfeit their stakes, and are expelled; those who attempt to cheat but haven’t yet done so attract the gambler’s hatred.

4. The gambler’s competitiveness—or greed—is extreme; it will gamble endlessly until it becomes the winner and claims all other players’ stakes.

5. The gambler possesses the Yellow Calendar.

It won it in a gamble from He Nianjun.

“From the Ghost Card game with Xia Yubing and the Russian Roulette with Shalishali, the gambler’s luck is currently excellent—it’s certain it has already consulted today’s Yellow Calendar and used its ‘auspicious’ and ‘taboo’ entries to boost its fortune.”

Ning Zhe glanced at Bé Dàng, now utterly focused on the coin in his hand, and assessed the situation:

“Today’s auspicious acts: sacrifice, prayer, consecration, removal, and fire release—five in total. I’ve completed all five and violated no taboos. My fortune today is at its peak—divinely blessed, unstoppable luck.”

But what of the gambler? How many of these five auspicious acts has it fulfilled? Is its fortune better than mine—or worse?

The answer now rests in Bé Dàng’s hand.

“The cup is nearly full. Two coins may cause overflow—or they may not. Either outcome is possible, depending solely on whether Bé Dàng’s hand trembles, and a touch of luck.”

Ning Zhe lowered his gaze and took a deep breath—but suddenly, his expression froze.

A black shadow appeared abruptly at the room’s doorway. The door opened.

(End of Chapter)