Chapter Fifteen: The King of Hell’s “Begging for Mercy at the Card Table” – “Old Man, I Was Wrong”

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"Underworld Card Game: From Dou Di Zhu to Six-Player Clash," Volume 1, Chapter 15: The King of Hell’s “Begging at the Card Table”: “Old Man, I Was Wrong”

After the Judge left carrying his cloth bag, the sunlight in the City God Temple’s card room shifted diagonally by half a foot, just enough to fall on Xiao Li’s newly drafted “Card Memory Poem” — a half sunflower seed shell stuck to the paper, splattered earlier in his excitement. Xiao Li was carefully peeling off the shell with his finger, muttering, “Two Hearts 3s, one Spade 5 left… this time I won’t be wrong!”

Wang Erma had just finished shuffling the cards when a loud thud came from the door, like someone had missed a step. Old Zhou quickly stuffed his cloth pouch under the table — he had won quite a few chips this morning and wrapped them in a blue cloth, fearing someone might peek. Xiao Li also stopped peeling his seed shell and looked toward the door. “Who’s there? That was loud.”

In burst the King of Hell, draped in a slightly worn red cloak, storming in with fierce momentum, followed by Xiao Hei and Xiao Bai. As he stepped in, the edge of his cloak caught on the threshold, almost pulling him off balance. Xiao Hei hurried to steady him. “Your Majesty, slow down!”

“Why the rush?” The King of Hell straightened his cloak, face stern, and approached the card table. “I heard someone here won the Judge’s sunflower seeds while playing cards?” His eyes scanned the table, first landing on Old Zhou’s cloth pouch under the table, then on Xiao Li’s draft paper, finally settling on Wang Erma. “Wang Erma, do you dare to play a couple of rounds with me?”

Wang Erma was just slipping the last card — the Ace of Hearts — into the deck. He looked up and smiled. “Why wouldn’t I dare? Just afraid you’ll slam the table again if you lose — last time you broke three cards, and the Judge hasn’t settled that with you.”

“Nonsense!” The King of Hell sat opposite Old Zhou, throwing his cloak over the chair back. “My luck’s good today; I’ll win back the seeds I lost last time!”

Old Zhou quietly shifted his pouch closer, whispering, “Your Majesty, what’s the stake?”

“Fifty underworld coins as the ante!” The King of Hell slammed the table, then lowered his voice, “…If I didn’t bring enough, I can owe it first.”

Xiao Li chuckled, “Your Majesty, you didn’t bring chips again, did you?”

“Who said that!” The King of Hell hurriedly felt his sleeve, fumbling before pulling out a cloth bag, dumping three coins and a worn abacus bead — probably the Judge’s leftover from last time. He flushed and glared at Xiao Hei. “Xiao Hei! Where are the chips I told you to bring?”

Xiao Hei shrank back. “The Queen said… you’ve exceeded your monthly chip limit, only allowed five coins…”

“You!” The King of Hell fumed, then turned to Wang Erma with a forced smile. “Old man, can I owe you then? I’ll double it when I win!”

“No way.” Wang Erma shook his head, pushing the cards forward. “Either put something up as collateral or don’t play.”

The King of Hell’s eyes flickered as he removed his crown. “This crown is set with ‘ghost fire stones,’ a specialty of the Underworld — worth a hundred coins, right?”

“Don’t be silly.” Wang Erma waved him off. “It’s too heavy to wear, and I have no use for it. How about this — if you lose a round, kowtow to me; if I lose, I’ll sing you a little tune from the neighborhood card table. Deal?”

“Kowtow?” The King of Hell turned green. “I’m the King of the Underworld! How can I kowtow? Change it!”

“Then if you lose, you wash cards for me for three days.” Wang Erma bargained. “Four-player Clash cards, four decks at once.”

“Deal!” The King of Hell agreed immediately — confident he’d win and hadn’t considered how exhausting washing four decks would be.

Xiao Li quickly brought a small stool and sat nearby, flipping the draft paper to the back to keep score. Old Zhou emptied the chips from his pouch and piled them as witnesses. Xiao Bai crouched at the table’s corner, holding a handful of sunflower seeds, ready to watch the show.

After the first deal, the King of Hell glanced at his hand, eyes gleaming — two jokers, four aces, and a straight. He raised an eyebrow at Wang Erma with pride. “Old man, get ready to sing that tune for me!”

Wang Erma ignored him, leisurely arranging his cards. Old Zhou peeked over and gasped — Wang Erma’s hand was just singles, the highest card a King. “Master Ma, your hand…”

“No problem.” Wang Erma patted his hand and called to the King of Hell, “Your turn to play, Your Majesty.”

The King of Hell cleared his throat and slowly played a “three with one”: “Three with a five.”

Wang Erma held a single four and was about to play, but Old Zhou tugged his sleeve — he had a pair of tens, hoping to beat it. Wang Erma shook his head. “Can’t beat that.”

Old Zhou also shook his head at his turn.

The King of Hell grew more confident and played a straight: “Five to nine!”

Wang Erma still shook his head. Old Zhou peeked at his hand with a frown and did nothing.

“What? No one beats it?” The King of Hell banged the table and played a pair of Queens. “Pair of Queens!”

“I’ll beat that!” Old Zhou finally played, placing a pair of tens — no, wait, he quickly took the cards back, face pale. “Wrong! I meant pair of Kings!”

He had been so nervous he mistook his tens for kings. The King of Hell laughed heartily. “Old Zhou, your eyesight! Thinking tens can beat Queens?”

Old Zhou flushed with embarrassment and placed the pair of Kings on the table. The King of Hell stopped laughing and pulled out a pair of aces. “Pair of Aces! Beats that!”

No one could beat that. The King of Hell threw down the rest of his cards. “All in! I win!”

“No, no!” Xiao Li was anxious. “When you played the pair of Aces, Old Zhou hadn’t reacted yet!”

“How’s that not valid?” The King of Hell straightened up. “Cards on the table recognize no person! Mark it down — Wang Erma lost a round!”

Xiao Li reluctantly marked an “X” on the paper. Wang Erma smiled calmly. “Don’t worry, there are two more rounds.”

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After the second deal, the King of Hell’s face fell — besides a small joker, his hand was all singles, the smallest a three. Wang Erma, however, was lucky, holding four twos and a straight from three to seven.

“Your turn, Your Majesty.” Wang Erma neatly arranged his cards.

The King of Hell hesitated and played a three.

“I beat that!” Wang Erma immediately played a two.

“You!” The King of Hell glared. “How can a single two beat a single three? That’s not a rule!”

“It is in my neighborhood.” Wang Erma argued confidently. “Single two is the ‘single card king,’ except for jokers, it beats any single card.”

“Nonsense!” The King of Hell turned to Old Zhou. “Old Zhou, is there such a rule?”

Old Zhou shrank back and whispered, “Master Ma says there is.” After winning with a bomb last time, he respected Wang Erma fully and deferred to him in everything.

Xiao Li chimed in, “Exactly! Neighborhood rules are rules! Your Majesty, if you don’t understand, don’t ask.”

The King of Hell pulled at his beard in frustration, helplessly watching Wang Erma play. Wang Erma played the single two, then a straight, followed by a pair of tens, with only four twos left.

“Bomb!” Wang Erma slapped the four twos down. “Bomb!”

With a “boom,” ghostly little spirits appeared on the table, snarling and clawing. The King of Hell, startled, trembled and dropped his small joker.

Xiao Bai quickly picked it up and handed it to him. “Your Majesty, your small joker.”

“Forget it!” The King of Hell tossed the joker aside. “I concede this round!”

Xiao Li quickly marked a check: “Even now! One round left!”

The third round was critical. The King of Hell stared at Wang Erma shuffling the cards, not blinking, afraid of cheating. Wang Erma shuffled slowly, then deliberately dropped a card on the floor. “Oops, slippery hands.”

Old Zhou crouched to pick it up and secretly signaled the King of Hell — he had just seen the King slip a card into his sleeve while Wang Erma bent down.

Wang Erma deliberately brushed the King’s sleeve while picking up the card, smiling, “Your Majesty, what’s hiding in your sleeve? Sunflower seeds?”

The King blushed and hurriedly pulled down his sleeve. “N-nothing!”

After the deal, the King secretly checked his sleeve — it was the big joker! He was delighted inside but feigned a worried expression. “Sigh, this hand’s bad. I’m afraid I’ll lose again.”

Wang Erma said nothing and leisurely laid out his cards. Old Zhou peeked and gasped — three Kings and a pair of Queens, but no big joker.

“Your turn, old man.” The King urged.

Wang Erma played a pair of threes. The King pretended to hesitate a long time, then played a pair of fours. Old Zhou played a pair of eights. The King then played a pair of tens — deliberately holding back the big joker for last.

Wang Erma’s cards dwindled to three. The King’s mind raced: once he played these three, he’d drop the big joker and win for sure!

“I play pair of Queens.” Wang Erma placed the last two cards — wait, was it three? He paused and counted again. “Oh, there’s a single five.”

The King’s eyes lit up and he grabbed the big joker from his sleeve. “I play big joker! Beats that!”

He slapped the big joker down, ready to shout “Victory,” when Wang Erma suddenly smiled. “Your Majesty, where did that card come from?”

“I-I drew it!” the King stammered.

“That can’t be right.” Wang Erma pointed to the deck. “I counted; the big joker is at the bottom — I saw it there when it fell.”

The King’s face went pale. Xiao Hei and Xiao Bai quickly flipped through the deck and indeed found the big joker.

“You cheated!” Xiao Li accused the King of Hell.

“I didn’t!” The King tried to deny, but Xiao Bai pointed at his sleeve. “Your Majesty, there’s another card in your sleeve!”

Everyone saw the edge of a card peeking from the King’s sleeve. He had no choice but to pull it out — the Ace of Hearts, probably slipped in by mistake when he tried to hide the big joker.

“Nice going, King of Hell.” Wang Erma crossed his arms, smiling. “Can’t handle losing and resort to cheating?”

The King’s face went from white to red to purple, finally hanging his head like a defeated rooster. “Fine… I admit defeat.”

Xiao Li quickly marked a check: “Master Ma wins! The King of Hell loses!”

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“Play fair and accept the loss.” Wang Erma leaned back in his chair. “So, will it be washing cards for three days, or…”

“I’ll wash! I’ll wash, isn’t that enough?” The King of Hell quickly interrupted, afraid the kowtow idea would come up again.

Just then, Meng Po entered from the doorway carrying a bowl of soup, floating with a sprig of cilantro. “Heard the noise — what’s going on?” She placed the bowl in front of the King.

“Meng Po, you came just in time!” The King grabbed her arm like a lifeline. “You judge this — Wang Erma is bullying me with his ‘neighborhood rules’!”

Meng Po ignored him and handed Wang Erma a bowl of sweet soup, “Just made it, with osmanthus.” Then she asked Xiao Li, “What happened exactly?”

Xiao Li recounted everything in detail. Meng Po covered her mouth, laughing, “Your Majesty, why are you still hiding cards? Last time you hid cards in your crown and got caught by the Queen, and were punished to kneel by the abacus — forgot that?”

The King blushed deeper, mumbling, “That’s because I never won…”

“If you lose, you lose. Why cheat?” Meng Po nudged the soup bowl toward him. “Drink some soup and calm down.”

The King of Hell wasn’t in the mood to drink. He pulled Wang Erma’s arm and softened his tone. “Old man, how about… forgetting the card washing? I’ll add reincarnation points, fifty more!”

Wang Erma raised an eyebrow. “Fifty? You still owe me sunflower seeds from last time.”

“I’ll pay! Right away!” The King started searching his sleeve and pulled out a crumpled paper package, handing it over. “Here are twenty sunflower seeds I stole from the Queen for you!”

Wang Erma opened it and saw the shells cracked, probably squeezed for a long time. He smiled. “Alright, I’ll take the seeds. But no skipping on washing cards.”

The King panicked, leaned closer, and whispered, “Old man, I was wrong, okay? Think of my status — washing four decks is humiliating! How about… I have Xiao Hei wash for me?”

Xiao Hei quickly waved his hands. “Your Majesty, I don’t dare! The Queen said if you lose, you must face the consequences yourself!”

“Then Xiao Bai wash for me!”

Xiao Bai shook his head. “I don’t dare either! The Judge said cheating means copying the rules as punishment!”

The King was at a loss, slumping to the floor like a sulking child. Old Zhou pitied him and quietly pulled Wang Erma’s sleeve. “Master Ma, maybe… just let it go?”

Wang Erma thought it over. “Fine. But on one condition.”

“Anything!” The King’s eyes lit up.

“Next time I play Four-Player Clash, you be my ‘card washer.’” Wang Erma suppressed a grin. “No need to wash four decks, just two.”

“Deal!” The King agreed immediately, afraid he’d go back on it. “Two decks, four decks — whatever you want!”

Xiao Li called out, “Your Majesty, you said washing four decks was so exhausting just now!”

“That’s different!” The King straightened his neck. “Washing cards for Master Ma is my honor!”

Meng Po laughed so hard her soup bowl trembled. “Your Majesty, you change your tune faster than turning a page.”

The King ignored her and hurriedly gathered the cards. “Let’s go, I’ll treat you all to Meng Po’s sweet soup!”

“Smart of you.” Wang Erma stood up. Old Zhou quickly stuffed chips back into his pouch, and Xiao Li folded the draft paper into his pocket — he had to compose a poem about the King of Hell’s begging today to recite for the other ghosts tomorrow.

Xiao Bai hopped along quietly, asking Xiao Hei, “Do you think the King will cheat again next time?”

Xiao Hei rubbed his nose. “Hard to say. But if he hides cards again, I’ll tell the Queen — she said for every report, I get one sunflower seed.”

Sunlight streamed through the City God Temple’s window lattice, stretching their shadows long. The King of Hell walked in front, his red cloak billowing, humming an off-key tune, as if forgetting he just lost. Wang Erma followed behind, clutching the cracked seed packet, thinking: this King of Hell, losing at cards is kind of endearing — much better than those old men in the neighborhood who throw tantrums when they lose.

Old Zhou counted the chips in his pouch as they walked and suddenly stopped, pulling Wang Erma’s sleeve quietly. “Master Ma, that last hand… did you already know the King was hiding cards?”

Wang Erma smiled. “Of course. That little trick couldn’t fool me.”

Old Zhou understood and asked again, “Then when you had three cards left, did you count wrong on purpose?”

“Guess so.” Wang Erma patted his shoulder and strode toward Meng Po’s soup stall. Old Zhou scratched his head and laughed along — playing cards with Master Ma not only wins chips but also lets you watch the King of Hell beg for mercy. This ghost life was much more interesting than guarding a money pouch before.