As the dealer finished speaking, the casual players around Dark began to greet him one by one. Someone offered Dark a seat, urging him to take it. Initially advising against playing, Dark, in a bold move, seated himself, slamming four hundred dollars on the table, addressing the dealer, "Just one round, four hundred, no doubling. If I lose, I'll leave..."
The game they were about to play was known as "Pulling 9," a popular local variant in Harbin. The rules were straightforward: each player received three cards, totalled the points, and compared for the final count. A counted as 1 point, while 10, J, Q, and K were all valued at zero points. Other cards were valued according to their face value. 9 points held the highest value at a fivefold payout, 8 points at threefold, and 7 points at double. Any value below 7 amounted to a one-fold payout. In cases where the banker and the player had the same total, the banker would win. Under such circumstances, regardless of the points, the winnings were not multiplied further.
Three of a kind and sequences were also part of the game, with only 3 of a kind counting as such, offering a tenfold payout. Other combinations were counted per their face value. Sequences were only recognized as 2, 3, and 4 due to their total equating 9 points, yielding an eightfold payout. Other sequences were evaluated solely based on their standard point value.
When Dark mentioned "no doubling," it implied that regardless of the outcome of the four hundred dollar bet, even if he drew a 3 of a kind, he would not multiply the winnings but stick to the original amount. Typically, declining to double indicated financial constraints, as losing a double bet would leave one unable to compensate the dealer.
This form of gameplay, direct and lacking in technicality, appealed to the seasoned gamblers' preferences. Dark's luck proved favourable from the outset. On the first hand, he drew a J, 7, and A, totalling eight points, while the dealer's hand amounted to five points. Ordinarily, with a four hundred dollar bet and an eight-point hand, Dark could have walked away with eight hundred dollars. However, by choosing not to double, he limited his winnings to four hundred dollars.
As the game progressed, Dark's fortune continued to shine, accumulating over two thousand dollars in winnings. Sensing my idle stance at the sidelines, he graciously handed me a thousand dollars, suggesting, "This game is going well. Why don't you join in? If you lose, it's on me..."
Dark's casual approach towards money reflected his noble character. Despite his generosity, I declined, adhering to my principles of observation before participation. Only after confirming the integrity of the game would I consider joining.
During my observation, I noted signs of cheating by the banker, albeit executed poorly. His method involved "bottom dealing," occasionally dealing the bottom card. Aware of his own inadequacy, the banker refrained from this tactic unless necessary. Tense moments revealed his fingers hovering over the bottom card without releasing it, a move that amused me inwardly.
Such amateurish cheating techniques, not even worthy of a novice, were surprisingly employed in this setting. The risk of detection and severe consequences did not deter the banker from attempting to deceive.
Aside from monitoring the table, my attention extended to the surroundings. Despite this being an informal gaming room rather than a sanctioned casino, covert surveillance was likely in place. However, given the scale of the operation, the surveillance seemed insufficient. In my prolonged scrutiny, only one individual resembling an undercover agent made a brief appearance before departing. Contrasting this figure was a young, dishevelled individual nearby, covered in grime with unkempt hair and a face marked with dirt, drawing my curiosity.
Despite his ragged appearance, the youth, seemingly eighteen or nineteen years old, possessed captivating eyes—clear and bright. Initially presumed to be an undercover presence, he shifted my perception upon noticing his disinterest in the game itself, instead focusing on the outcomes of wins and losses. It appeared he was a beggar seeking tips, drawn to anyone experiencing good fortune. His attire, oversized and worn with patches, obscured any clear gender distinction.
Yet, his captivating gaze intrigued me. Initially mistaken for an informant, I soon realized his resemblance to a destitute youth, preoccupied solely with others' fortunes. His behaviour suggested a desire for gratuities, a common sight in such gaming environments.
In "Pulling 9," betting occurred upfront, followed by drawing three cards and comparing points without any further betting or drawing. This limited the opportunities for deception to card switching or replacement. Even with prior knowledge of the cards, attempting to manipulate the game mid-play proved ineffective.
Wanting to secure winnings, assuming the banker position was the optimal strategy. The banker in this game was not fixed; any player achieving a 3 of a kind or a sequence of 2, 3, 4 could claim the position. Players lacking sufficient funds or unwilling to act as bankers could sell the banker position for a few hundred dollars.
As the game progressed, Dark's losses mounted until he was out of funds. Despite his desire to continue playing, he seemed reluctant to leave his seat. In a gesture of goodwill, I placed two thousand dollars on Dark's table, suggesting, "Carry on playing with this..."
Grateful for the assistance, Dark glanced appreciatively at me. Recognizing our amicable relationship, the banker extended an invitation, "Come, buddy, join in for a round..."
Considering my initial intentions to participate, I accepted the offer and found a seat at the table. Stakes ranged from a minimum of one hundred to a maximum of one thousand dollars. Placing bets of one or two hundred dollars, I played casually, unperturbed by wins or losses, patiently awaiting the chance to become a banker.
However, after over an hour of play without securing a 3 of a kind or a sequence, I decided waiting was no longer an option. Resorting to cheating was the swiftest resolution, a tactic emphasized by Varg, who cautioned against leaving evidence of cheating, as it could lead to dire consequences. When I sought advice on concealing cards, Varg reluctantly disclosed the method of shifting blame through sleight of hand, cautioning against its use unless absolutely necessary. This reluctance explained my hesitance in employing deceitful tactics.
In a hand where I held four points with two 2s and a 10, I discreetly retained one 2 while reshuffling the cards. This tactic, known as "Holding the Universe in the Palm of Your Hand," was a basic cheating move. Professional gamblers typically bend their fingers inward to prevent dropping cards, a technique I found unnecessary due to my mastery.
Despite the chaotic and vigilant nature of the environment, concealing the extra card in my hand remained undetected. Swiftly transforming the single 2 into a sequence of 2, 3, 4 after a few hands, I wagered a modest one hundred dollars at eightfold odds. The banker, conceding the loss, paid out eight hundred dollars, granting me the chance to become the next banker.
While the shuffling, cutting, and dealing appeared routine, I meticulously maintained control over the game. Memorizing the card sequence during shuffling allowed me to draw any card out of the fifty-two without arousing suspicion. Despite outward appearances of fair play, I discreetly ensured that each hand hovered around the middle range, tipping the scales slightly in favour of the house.
Gradually influencing the outcomes, I navigated the game with precision, sometimes intentionally losing to blend in. Amidst the gameplay, a male voice from the nearby table broke the silence, "This fellow looks unfamiliar..."