Sent to the countryside, I turned the health center into a top-tier hospital.

"All in," Chen Ping said.

The fat man laughed, his face jiggling with every laugh: "Okay, shall we bet on big or small?"

Chen Ping didn't speak, just stared at the dice cup.

His hand rested on the edge of the table, something was moving in his mind, not churning, but vibrating, like the vibration he felt when he opened the wooden box that day.

He could hear it, not with his ears, but in an indescribable way, the sound of dice rolling in the cup, once, twice, three times, then stopping.

Three sixes.

Dice.

It can be used by everyone.

wrong.

He listened to it again.

It's not three sixes, it's four, five, six, fifteen o'clock.

"Big," Chen Ping said.

The fat man lifted the lid of the cup.

Four, five, six, and fifteen o'clock.

The people at the table exchanged glances.

The fat man paused for a moment, then took out a dozen or so yuan from under the table and pushed it over, including the principal and interest, totaling more than thirty yuan.

Chen Ping bet all thirty-odd yuan.

"Small," he said.

The dice landed: one, two, three, six (small).

More than sixty yuan.

The third round, all in, big win. Over a hundred yuan.

The fourth round, all in, small. Over two hundred yuan.

On the fifth hand, I went all in and won big. Over four hundred yuan.

The people at the table fell silent, all staring at Chen Ping.

The fat man's expression changed, and sweat began to stream down his forehead.

Zhao Dezhu squatted down beside him, his eyes wide open, his mouth agape.

"Again." Chen Ping pushed all four hundred-plus bills up.

"You..." the fat man's voice was a little dry, "What are you betting on?"

Chen Ping closed his eyes to listen.

The dice rolled in the cup, once, twice, three times.

One, one, four, six o'clock.

"Small."

Uncover, one, one, four, six small dots.

More than 800 yuan.

"All in. Big."

One thousand six hundred yuan.

"All in. Small."

Three thousand two hundred yuan.

The table was so quiet that only the sound of dice rolling could be heard.

More and more people gathered around. The bald man stopped playing Pai Gow, and the card players stopped playing too; they all squeezed over to watch.

A dozen or so people were gathered around a table, their eyes all fixed on the ever-growing stack of money in front of Chen Ping.

"All in. Big."

Six thousand four hundred yuan.

The fat man's hands were shaking, and he almost knocked over the dice when he lifted the lid.

Two, five, six, thirteen o'clock. Twelve thousand eight.

"All in. Small."

Twenty-five thousand six.

Zhao Dezhu squatted down beside him, making a gurgling sound in his throat, as if he had choked on something.

His eyes reddened, not from crying, but from anxiety.

He had never seen such a gambling method in his life, betting everything every time and winning every time.

A few dollars turned into more than 20,000 in less than half an hour.

The fat man stopped driving, stood up, and the chair tipped backward with a loud bang.

He wiped the sweat from his forehead, turned around, walked to the back, opened a small door, and went inside.

The people at the table were whispering among themselves.

"Who is this guy? He's so weird!"

"De Zhu's cousin? When did De Zhu ever have such a cousin?"

"Could they be cheating?"

"What kind of cheating is this? The dice are ours, the cup is ours, how could he cheat?"

The small door opened, and the fat man walked out, followed by another person.

He was in his forties, short and stout, wearing a floral shirt and a gold chain around his neck, about the thickness of a thumb.

He had a cigar between his fingers, but it wasn't lit.

He walked to the table, glanced at Chen Ping, then at the pile of money on the table, and smiled.

"Brother, you're on a winning streak," the man said.

Chen Ping looked at him without saying a word.

"My name is Ma Hu, and I'm the boss here." He pulled up a chair and sat down. "Where are you from, brother?"

"From Siping Township."

"Siping Township?"

Ma Hu narrowed his eyes. "I've never heard of anyone like you in Siping Township."

"Just arrived."

Ma Hu stared at him for a while, then laughed: "Alright, you just arrived. Brother, you've won so much today, isn't that enough? Give me some face and stop."

Chen Ping looked at him: "You won money but you can't leave?"

"Let me go, why won't you let me go?"

Ma Hu's smile remained unchanged, but his eyes turned cold. "Just a reminder, brother: know when to quit while you're ahead. No one wins forever in a casino."

Chen Ping stood up and stuffed the money on the table into his pocket.

He had more than 20,000 yuan, which was too much to fit in his pocket, so he put it in a plastic bag.

Zhao Dezhu squatted down beside it, staring at the bag of money, his eyes practically popping out of their sockets.

"Wait," Ma Hu's voice turned cold. "You're just leaving like that, brother?"

Chen Ping turned around: "Didn't you tell me to leave?"

Ma Hu stood up, his smile gone.

He glanced at the fat man, who nodded, walked to the door, closed the iron gate, and locked it with the bolt.

Everyone in the casino stopped, looking at Ma Hu and then at Chen Ping, but no one said a word.

The air seemed to freeze; even the smoke couldn't move.

"Brother, I won't stop you from winning money at my place, but you have to let me know how you won."

Ma Hu walked up to Chen Ping, looked up at him, and said, "A dozen yuan, won more than 20,000 in half an hour, betting everything every time, and winning every time. There's no such thing as a lucky break."

"I was lucky," Chen Ping said with a slight smile.

"Just lucky?"

Ma Hu laughed, a cold laugh. "I've been running this casino for three years, and I've never seen such good luck. You must be cheating, aren't you?"

"Which eye of yours saw me cheating?"

Ma Hu's face twitched, and he turned around and shouted, "Liu Mazi! Where's Liu Mazi?"

No one answered.

"Liu Mazi!"

Ma Hu called out again, but still no one answered.

A thug nearby leaned over and whispered, "Brother Biao, Liu Mazi just left; he left the keys on the ground."

Ma Hu's expression changed completely, his eyes turning dark as if rain was about to fall.

He glanced at Chen Ping, then at the bag of money, gritted his teeth, and said, "Brother, I think you're a capable person. I won't hold this against you. Leave the money, and you can leave."

"What if I don't stay?" Chen Ping countered.

Ma Hu didn't say anything, took a step back, and winked at the few thugs next to him.

Four men surrounded them; two held steel pipes, one held a beer bottle, and the third was empty-handed but had a knife tucked into his waistband.

"Brother, don't refuse a toast only to suffer the consequences."

Chen Ping handed the plastic bag to Zhao Dezhu.

Zhao Dezhu took it, his hands trembling like a leaf.

Chen Ping turned around to face the four people.

"Let's all go at once, it'll save time."

The four men exchanged glances. The one with the steel pipe rushed forward first, raised the pipe above his head, and smashed it down on Chen Ping's head.

Chen Ping dodged to the side, grabbed the steel pipe with his left hand, and slapped the man's neck with his right. The man's eyes rolled back, and he collapsed limply, the steel pipe now in Chen Ping's hand.

The second man rushed up with a steel pipe, but Chen Ping didn't retreat; instead, he advanced and swept the pipe horizontally, hitting the man's calf.

With a crack, the man screamed and fell to the ground, clutching his leg and rolling around.

The man with the beer bottle paused for a second, then slammed the bottle on the table, clutching half a shard of glass in his hand, and stabbed it at Chen Ping.

Chen Ping used a steel pipe to deflect the broken glass, sending it flying. He then kicked the man in the stomach, sending him flying. The man crashed into the wall, slid down, and lay motionless.

Before the last hand could be pulled out from behind his waist, Chen Ping's steel pipe was already pressed against his throat.