Chapter Four: The God of Gambling Reborn

Red Flag Factory, in the southwest corner of the compound, stood an abandoned warehouse. Seven or eight young men were gathered around a battered wooden table, playing cards. Most of them had cigarettes dangling from their mouths, dressed in work uniforms, while two wore fashionable jackets.

With a clang, the old iron door swung open and Liang Long entered with Chen Huajiang.

“Hey, Huajiang’s here!” someone called.

“Come on, have a few rounds with us,” another urged.

They were all familiar faces, regular companions at these games, and greeted Chen Huajiang with particular enthusiasm. Their “warmth,” however, was not without motive. Chen Huajiang was known for his fondness for gambling and his almost uncanny knack for losing. In their eyes, he was a walking wallet, a fool ripe for fleecing.

“Huajiang, come sit by me,” beckoned a wiry, short man with shrewd eyes and a broad smile. His name was Hou Mingdong, nicknamed “Monkey,” notorious for regularly taking Huajiang’s money.

Chen Huajiang smiled and greeted everyone, then joined the game. As he sat down, Monkey exchanged a knowing glance with Liang Long behind him.

They were playing “Golden Flower.” The first few rounds were lighthearted, with Monkey even teasing Chen Huajiang about getting fired for fighting. But within fifteen minutes, Huajiang’s luck seemed to turn miraculously. He started winning hand after hand, and before long, everyone sat dumbfounded. The usually hapless Chen Huajiang was sharp and calculating today—almost frighteningly so.

Everyone else was losing, and he alone kept winning!

It was payday, and they’d all come flush with cash, but now each wore a look of misery—none more so than Liang Long, whose brow had broken into a sweat. Impulsive by nature, he kept raising the stakes as he lost, and ended up gambling away over a hundred yuan—all he had.

“I’m done, I lost everything,” a stout fellow said, slamming his cards onto the table.

“I’m out too.”

“Chen Huajiang must’ve stepped in something lucky today.”

In the end, all seven or eight players were cleaned out—even Monkey.

“Ha, sorry to trouble you all, just a bit of luck,” Huajiang said humbly, though his hands moved quickly to stuff the cash into his pockets. In his previous life, he’d seen plenty of high-stakes games—beating these fools was child’s play.

When the lunch break ended, the others shuffled off to work, dejected. Soon only Chen Huajiang and the idle Liang Long remained. Liang Long held a nominal post in the security department but had no real duties and was rarely supervised. He lit a cigarette, his face dark with frustration. The hundred or so yuan he’d just lost had taken endless cajoling from his father to obtain, and now it was all gone.

With a crisp slap, Chen Huajiang laid ten large bills on the table before Liang Long.

“Huajiang, what’s this supposed to mean?” Liang Long looked up.

“We’re brothers—how could I take your money?” said Huajiang, lighting his own cigarette.

“Come on, what kind of guy do you take me for? If you really think of me as a brother, you better take that money back,” Liang Long said gruffly, feigning anger. Though he was usually a bit of a scoundrel, he played fair—always paying his debts. Losing hurt, but he would never lose face.

Huajiang chuckled and leaned in.

“Since we’re brothers, there’s a favor I need to ask.”

“What is it?”

“I’m out of work now and still have to make a living. I want to open a snack bar in those rooms by the main gate.”

This was the real reason Huajiang had come today. By the factory entrance stood three red-brick rooms, formerly used by the security department. Now that they’d moved inside the compound, the rooms sat empty. Liang Long’s father, Liang Yuanchao, was in charge of them.

“A snack bar?” Liang Long raised his brows, surprised by Huajiang’s initiative.

“That’s right. I happened to win some money today—enough for a small setup. If your father agrees to rent me those rooms, I’ll give you a ten percent share in the business!” Huajiang picked up the hundred yuan from the table.

Liang Long mulled it over. The money was lost anyway; a ten percent stake sounded good. As for the rooms, all it took was a word from his father.

“Alright, I’ll talk to him. Wait for my news.”

Liang Long, unable to keep a secret, was up and out the door in a flash. Huajiang stayed in the warehouse, waiting.

Less than half an hour later, Liang Long returned, brimming with excitement.

“Huajiang, my dad says it’s fine, but the rooms are in rough shape—you’ll have to fix them up.”

“Now that’s a true friend—gets things done!” Huajiang praised him, then added, “But we should sign a contract.”

“A contract?”

“My dad can settle it with a word—what’s the point of a contract?” Liang Long sounded displeased, as if Huajiang doubted his father.

“Well, you know I’ve had run-ins with Gou Zhiguo. I just don’t want him making trouble for your dad.”

Huajiang found an excuse.

“Alright then, come with me.” The two rode off on a motorcycle to the security office.

Red Flag Factory was a major enterprise, once boasting a whole company of militia, even trucks and machine guns—serious firepower. Though they no longer kept weapons, the security force still numbered forty or fifty, more than enough to keep the local riff-raff at bay.

The innermost office belonged to Liang Yuanchao.

“You little brat, what are you doing back here?” Liang Yuanchao sat like a mountain, nearly two meters tall, his booming voice making Liang Long shrink back.

“Dad, Chen Huajiang’s worried Gou Zhiguo might cause trouble, so he wants a contract.”

Outside, Liang Long might play the clown, but before his father he was as meek as a mouse before a cat.

“Gou Zhiguo? He wouldn’t dare mess with me,” Liang Yuanchao snorted.

“Director Liang, have a smoke,” said Chen Huajiang, placing an unopened pack of Da Qianmen on the desk. “I just want to be careful. You might not fear Gou Zhiguo, but I do! Besides, I want to run the business long-term. Please, help me out.”

Liang Yuanchao regarded him with some surprise. He knew what kind of person Huajiang was, and hadn’t expected him to be so tactful now. He didn’t care about the cigarettes, but everyone liked to hear a good word.

He ripped open the pack, and Huajiang promptly lit one for him.

“Alright, we’ll sign one then.”

The contract was drafted and signed in short order, with the security department’s official seal affixed. Three years’ rent amounted to just ninety yuan, payable in annual installments—a veritable steal.

With the contract safely in hand, Huajiang and Liang Long left the office.

“When the snack bar opens, bring your friends around,” Huajiang said with a smile.

Just now, they’d even signed a partnership agreement for the restaurant in Liang Yuanchao’s presence. That was why the rent had been set so low.

“No problem!” Liang Long was now a part-owner himself, and to his surprise, felt genuinely excited—though it was more for the novelty than any hope of making money.

After bidding Liang Long farewell, Huajiang stopped by the grocery store, bought supplies, and at last headed home.