Chapter 68: Betting Against Each Other

With a resounding clang of the gong, the host flicked her slender fingers, sending the color wheel spinning at breakneck speed. The sight stunned even Ye Chan—they had all assumed spinning the wheel would be like an old donkey trudging around a grindstone, slow enough that at least you could make out where the sections landed.

Yang Baibai stood there all casual and cocky, three darts cupped in his left palm. Squinting one eye, he drawled lazily, “Call your flower.”

Three seconds to declare. Yang Baibai’s first dart struck dead center with pinpoint accuracy, but Gu Xianwang watched closely and could tell his wrist lacked real power. It had precision, sure, but no staying strength. Once his shoulder and back started dictating the force, any follow-up throws would lose their fluidity. He might look confident on the surface, but landing two out of three was already a gamble for him.

She figured he’d pour everything into the second dart to lock in the win. Instead, the brash young man pinched it between two fingers and took his sweet time lining up the shot, dragging out the suspense for the crowd. Then, at the very last second, he whipped his arm forward. The dart veered sideways, slamming straight into the bullseye of the neighboring wheel. It hit with a sharp ding against the central copper wire, then bounced off and spun to the ground.

Blatant provocation.

Childish as it was, the stunt lit a fire under the roughneck crowd. Cheers and whoops exploded from all sides, the room buzzing with heat as everyone leaned in to see how this young scion of the Yang family would cap off his final throw.

Yang Baibai glanced back at the woman. She didn’t spare a look at the fallen dart, standing there with hands clasped behind her back, her face as calm and unreadable as a monk deep in meditation. What a bore. He turned back to his own wheel and muttered under his breath, “Tch, putting on quite the show.”

Ye Chan rose on tiptoe to whisper in Gu Xianwang’s ear, “He’s obviously gaming the rules. If it required all three hits, bet he wouldn’t be so cocky.”

Gu Xianwang just shook her head without a word, but she knew full well that even if the rules demanded three perfect hits, Yang Baibai would pull some other wild stunt to crush his opponent—simply because she was a woman.

“Peony.”

The final flower called, the hall plunged into utter silence. In those tense three seconds, Yang Baibai dropped his slacker vibe. He gripped the dart tight with three fingers, closed his eyes, drew a slow breath, then snapped them open. A silver streak flashed through the air like lightning.

“Awesome!!!”

The wheel jerked to a halt under the impact, the dart’s edge buried perfectly in the peony section. Applause and whistles erupted alongside it, and Yang Baibai played it cool as he called out his bid: “Five hundred thousand.”

That was his opening offer, which meant Xiang Ling’s prior two-hundred-thousand bid was automatically voided.

Ye Chan eyed his smug grin and admitted grudgingly, “He’s cocky as hell, but damn if he doesn’t have the skills to back it up.”

Now all the pressure shifted to the woman. The guys around hooted and grinned, egging her on: “Come on, sis! Show this punk what for!”

Gu Xianwang pressed her lips thin, her gaze turning icy. They were all just hyping things up for the hell of it—no one truly rooting for her to win. The cheers were just face for Third Sister Red. Deep down, every one of them was itching to see the guest invited by Rat-Walkers’ female boss get her comeuppance.

The woman wasn’t far off. As the host laid her hand on the wheel, Gu Xianwang felt some inexplicable urge take hold and blurted out, “You’ve got this. Don’t lose.”

Ye Chan saw Sister Gu taking the lead and couldn’t let her down. She cupped her hands to her mouth and bellowed, “Go, Rich Sister! Three in a row! Three in a row! Three in a row!”

Ye Chan’s shout brought a flush to Gu Xianwang’s cheeks, but playing it low-key was out of the question now. Eyes turned their way from all around. She could only stare straight ahead. The woman had already gripped her dart and raised her elbow, but she turned at the sound, their gazes locking.

A bit embarrassed, Gu Xianwang gave a furtive fist pump and mumbled along, “Three… three in a row…”

Amid the raucous hall, the woman suddenly curved her eyes in a smile and replied simply, “Good.”

To the crowd, a single dart would settle the dart betting auction’s wager, but the atmosphere stayed electric and rowdy—nothing like the hype around Yang Baibai’s throw.

One of the older guys nearby, hands jammed in his pockets, sidled up with a grin. “Yo, you two know each other or what?”

Gu Xianwang held her breath, waiting for her first dart. She frowned and stepped aside, not bothering to respond. Fearing Third Sister Red was one thing; cozying up to this mystery backer who tossed around twenty grand like pocket change was another. The less faith anyone had in her chances of winning, the more she could empathize with this woman.

“Hey, I was just asking. Is that really necessary?”

The guy bared his yellow teeth in a grumble. Before he could even look up, a sharp whoosh cut the air, followed by a heavy thud as the metal stand on the wooden platform crashed down. By the time he figured out what had happened, the entire venue had fallen deathly silent.

The staff rushed to right the color wheel toppled by the flying dart. In plain view of everyone, the inch-long iron dart had buried itself nearly to the hilt right into the wheel, leaving only a stub of leather fletching jammed in the grid.

“Hit,” the host announced.

“Hiss.” The guy took a fresh look at the woman as she gripped her next dart and raised her elbow. “This lady’s got some serious luck.”

Tension finally crackled through the air. Dozens of eyes locked onto her hand like laser beams, everyone straining to catch any sleight of hand in that split second.

The host called out the next flower name. The wheel spun up again—no flashy theatrics this time. Just one second.

One second.

Another thud echoed as the color wheel toppled backward onto the wooden floor.

The axle whirred emptily a few times. When the staff hauled the stand upright again, the wheel sagged forward, drooping halfway down like it was bowing in defeat.

“…Hit.”

Now even the skeptics muttering about luck fell quiet. Everyone exchanged bewildered glances, waiting for some expert to break down exactly how this was possible.

No such explanation came. Instead, Ye Chan let out a triumphant yell: “Sis is badass!!!”

This time, she crowed like she’d bet on the winning horse, unflinching even as Yang Baibai shot her a cold glare. Sister Gu had called him a lone wolf; they had a full trio. No fear. She bobbed her head smugly, channeling Coach Anxi as she bellowed, “Last dart, sis! Let’s go!”

Her drawn-out “ah” hadn’t even faded when another streak of white light hurtled through the air. This time, a resounding clang rang out. The entire color wheel spun wildly off the stand, crashing to the floor—but impossibly, it landed on its rim and spun forward like a top, rolling straight to Yang Baibai’s feet. It bumped the clip on his shoe, then clattered flat, landing squarely over his foot.

The onlookers gasped. Yang Baibai’s face twisted in fury. The gaps left by the first two darts formed perfect pillars framing his entire foot, while the tip of the third dart hovered right in front of his big toe—mere millimeters from drawing blood.

Gu Xianwang blinked in surprise, then her expression lit up. “Hit.”

“Truly… three darts, three hits.”

Before anyone could react, the woman coolly stated her bid: “Five hundred and fifty thousand.”

Thanks to her tenfold multiplier, that bid only cost her fifty-five thousand in real cash. Yang Baibai gritted his teeth, swallowing the squid jerky in his mouth, and spat out furiously, “Seven hundred thousand.”

“Seven hundred and fifty thousand.”

Old Six Zhuang up front whipped around with a mocking grin, but at seventy-five, he let his raised hand drop silently. He was seventy percent sure the Snake Spirit Pearl was the real deal, but the Head had capped their Flower Fair budget at six hundred thousand—and that was earmarked for intel on the grand finale.

Yang Baibai’s temples bulged. “One million.”

“One million and five thousand.”

If not for his wariness of Third Sister Red, Yang Baibai would’ve cursed her out. Damn, she’d crushed him with a fivefold lead in the dart betting auction, and now she was grinding him down with those fifty-five-thousand increments—clearly targeting him on purpose. His head pounded with rage, but a sliver of reason held him back. Pushing the bid higher was pointless now. Shit, this woman had real skill. And real money, too. All his worldly possessions totaled just two hundred thousand; at this price, he’d already lost.

Or he could bump it up one more notch. Even if he couldn’t claim the Snake Spirit Pearl, he wouldn’t let her have it this easily. He refused to believe she’d nail his limit two bets in a row.

Yang Baibai stayed silent for a long moment. Only on the host’s second confirmation did he finally call out: “One million five hundred thousand.”

The bid rang out, drawing gasps from the entire hall. Even Ye Chan couldn’t help smacking her lips in astonishment. “Holy shit, Little Bro’s got money to burn—who knew?”

Gu Xianwang frowned as she ran the numbers in her head. This went beyond just having money or not. Those guys earlier had said the pearl would fetch about 1.6 million on resale, and with normal market swings, anywhere from 1.3 to 1.9 million was reasonable. Yet Yang Baibai had thrown down 1.5 million—a multiplier that jacked up the cost far too high.

What if this pearl turned out to be fake too?

She couldn’t help glancing at the woman who hadn’t followed the bid. This time, the woman broke character with a faint smile on her face. She sat there under the crowd’s baffled stares, silent even after the host confirmed the bid three times.

Ye Chan blinked in confusion. “Does that mean… she’s out?”

Yang Baibai fared no better. He shot to his feet, jabbing a finger at her. “Why the hell aren’t you bidding?”

The woman turned, shrugged, and said, “Don’t want it anymore.”

Yang Baibai’s head buzzed as he stood there dumbfounded. In the Flower Fair’s dart betting auction, bids had to be covered by the bidder’s own funds—no pooling money with others. And given his personality, he’d never stoop to partnering up anyway. But he flat-out didn’t have the extra cash for this.

Was this woman just screwing with him?

Had she never planned to take the Snake Spirit Pearl at all?

Or had she pegged exactly how much he had left?

His face flushed through shades of green and pale before he finally muttered in defeat, “I fold.”

That’s when Old Six Zhuang piped up with a mocking snort. “Well, look at that—Young Master Yang’s tapped out. Broke and still acting high and mighty for whose benefit?”

Yang Baibai glowered but said nothing. He’d not only failed to snag the Snake Spirit Pearl but also shelled out ten grand to this woman. Truly a case of losing both the lady and the soldiers. Worst of all, it might even screw up the real business tied to that later intel.

The commotion settled quickly, and the venue returned to normal. Everyone drifted back to their seats, and talk of the minor drama fizzled out in moments.

Ye Chan strained her ears for a bit before whispering to Gu Xianwang, “Sounds like they’re all waiting on that final piece of news.”

“News?” Gu Xianwang remembered Ye Zhen mentioning that today’s headliner was the main draw pulling in all these people, and a knot of tension formed in her gut. “Your brother’s been gone a while now. No text from him?”

Figuring the timing, he’d been on that call for at least fifteen minutes. Ye Chan’s phone was on silent, and in the thrill of the spectacle, she’d clean forgotten about her own brother.

She pulled out her phone and stared, rereading the message three times before murmuring, “My bro… says there’s an emergency. He’s heading back to the company early.”

Her expression said it was more than that. Gu Xianwang probed gently, “What happened?”

Ye Chan looked up, brow furrowed. “My bro says… they found Little Hei’s body in the Sinkhole.”