Chapter Seventeen: Practicing Shuffling: A Novice Transforms into a "Deck Master"

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Underworld Card Game: From Dou Dizhu to Six Clash, Volume 1, Chapter 17: Shuffle Practice: Novice Turns Cards into a “Tangled Ball”

The judge’s cloth pouch lay forgotten beside the stone near the Meng Po soup stall. Inside, the draft of the rules rustled noisily in the wind. On top was the sheet titled “New Questions on Four Clash,” still stuck with a melon seed shell dropped by Little Li. Wang Erma squatted down and nudged the pouch aside, worried that passing little ghosts might trample it—though the judge’s recitation of rules was exhausting, the pouch looked old and seemed to be his lifelong collection.

“Master Ma, are we really going to practice?” Old Zhou leaned over, holding the beginner’s ticket for the three-deck cards, its corners frayed from frequent handling. “What about the four decks? What if we ruin them while shuffling? The judge said these cards are made from otherworldly paper, and replacing one costs five underworld coins.”

“If I ruin them, I’ll pay,” Wang Erma said confidently, patting his chest. He pulled a wooden basin from under the city god temple’s card table—the one Meng Po had brought yesterday, meant for washing four decks. There were still some grass scraps stuck to the bottom from previous shuffles. He turned to the table but was stopped after just a few steps by Little Li.

“Master Ma, I composed a ‘shuffling poem’!” Little Li eagerly handed over a crumpled piece of paper. On it, in crooked handwriting, were the lines:

“Four decks piled like a mountain,
Shuffle evenly, play with joy,
If disorder arises, don’t panic or shout,
Slowly sort, and it will restore.”

Between the lines was a small drawing of a person squatting on the ground picking up cards, evidently copied from Xiaobai’s style.

“Not bad, easier to remember than the judge’s rules,” Wang Erma smiled, slipping the paper back into his pocket. “Recite it while shuffling later, to encourage Xiaobai.”

Just then, Xiaobai bounced out from behind the city god temple, clutching two willow branches—she had heard from Meng Po that willow branches could “smooth the card energy,” so she had purposely snipped them near the Naihe Bridge.

“Master Ma! I’m here to help shuffle!” She placed the branches on the stone table, her braid whipping like a little whip. “Last time I shuffled the Dou Dizhu cards, I did it really evenly! Little Hei said I’m better at shuffling than the judge!”

Little Hei followed behind, carrying a cloth bag bulging with four new decks—the judge had specially sent them yesterday. The corners were wrapped in thin paper to protect them from the damp underworld energy.

“Xiaobai, don’t brag,” he said, setting the bag beside the wooden basin. “Last time you shuffled three decks and even dropped a card into the table crack.”

“That was an accident!” Xiaobai glared at him and reached to open the card packet. Old Zhou quickly stopped her: “Wait, wait! First remove the thin paper, save it for wrapping chips!” He carefully peeled off the paper from the card corners, folded it neatly, and tucked it into his blue cloth pouch—keeping it with the chips, separating them with small stones, treating it more carefully than his own grandchildren.

Wang Erma poured the four decks into the wooden basin. The moment the cards hit the grass at the bottom, they scattered with a loud rustle—reds and blacks piled halfway up the basin, looking plumper than a bag of laundry detergent from a human neighborhood supermarket. Xiaobai tiptoed to peer in, eyes sparkling. “So many cards! Shuffling must be like kneading dough!”

“Don’t knead, do it as I taught you.” Wang Erma rolled up his sleeves and divided the cards into two stacks. “First, hold one stack in your left hand, the other in your right, then cross them over in the middle—yes, just like building a magpie bridge for the cards.” He demonstrated as he spoke, placing the two stacks alternately. Though not perfectly neat, at least they weren’t tangled.

Xiaobai imitated him, dividing the cards into two piles, but her small hands couldn’t hold one stack steadily. The cards spilled back into the basin with a clatter, sending a few corners flying onto Little Li’s draft paper. He hurriedly stuffed the paper into his chest. “Be careful! My poem isn’t finalized yet!”

“Got it!” Xiaobai stuck out her tongue, picked up the cards again, and this time was more cautious, taking only half a stack to gently place on the other. At first, it looked decent, but after a few attempts, her hand trembled and the two piles collided—hearts three and spades king tangled together like two squabbling little ghosts.

“Don’t rush, take it slow.” Wang Erma stifled a laugh and helped untangle the cards. “Shuffle lightly; these cards are made of paper, not your little ghosts.”

Little Hei squatted nearby, holding a small twig, helping to scoop fallen cards back into the basin. “Want me to try?”

“No way! I’ll go first!” Xiaobai pushed his twig aside and, with her neck stiff, continued shuffling. She was probably too eager and heavy-handed, grabbing handfuls and slamming them onto the other pile, shouting, “Watch my ‘card mountain collapse’!” But the ‘collapse’ was too rough—instead of spreading, the cards stuck together like glued, forming a tight, round ball. The red and black corners curled outwards, looking like a hedgehog spiked with colorful threads.

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“Huh? What happened?” Xiaobai froze and reached to pull, but the more she pulled, the tighter the ball became, even sticking to the grass scraps at the basin’s bottom. Old Zhou’s face turned pale; he crouched down to help but hesitated, afraid of damaging the cards, nervously rubbing his hands. “Slow, slow! These cards are expensive!”

Little Li came over and pulled out a pen, sketching on a scrap of paper:

“Xiaobai’s shuffling turns cards to a ball,
Hearts and spades tangled in a sprawl,
Old Zhou nervously rubs his hands,
Master Ma frowns, devising plans.”

After reciting it, he was shot a glare by Xiaobai and quickly wiped it away with his foot.

Wang Erma touched the card ball—it was stiff, the corners frayed and fuzzed. “Are you shuffling or kneading buns?” he sighed helplessly. “It’s twisted into a braid; how do you even untangle this?”

Xiaobai hung her head, her eyes red rimmed. “I didn’t mean to... I just wanted to shuffle faster so I could practice Four Clash sooner.”

“No worries, just untangle it.” Meng Po approached with a bowl of sweet soup, the rim garnished with osmanthus petals. “When I cook soup and it forms lumps, I stir with chopsticks and it breaks apart; cards should be the same.” She pulled a pair of bamboo chopsticks from her pocket—ones Ah Xiang had given, made from bamboo by the Naihe Bridge and very sturdy.

But as soon as the chopsticks touched the card ball, they got stuck. Meng Po stirred hard, but with a snap a small tip broke off and fell into the crevice of the card ball. “This…” Meng Po was stunned. “Stickier than the lotus powder I cook.”

Suddenly, Little Hei stood up and ran behind the city god temple. Soon, he returned holding scissors—the judge’s scissors, left behind last time while cutting rule drafts, still smeared with ink on the blade. “Use these to cut it!” he said, ready to stab at the card ball.

“No!” Old Zhou quickly grabbed his arm. “What if you ruin them? The judge will make us shuffle cards for half a year as punishment!”

“If we don’t cut, we can’t untangle it!” Little Hei was anxious. “I’ll cut gently, only at the tightest spots.” He looked over the card ball carefully, found the highest curled corner, and cautiously inserted the scissor tip, cutting lightly.

With a crisp snap, the card ball split open, and a heart ace popped out, flying right into Old Zhou’s arms. He caught it quickly, wiped off the grass scraps with his sleeve, and carefully placed it into the basin. “See! We got one out!”

Encouraged, Xiaobai grabbed the scissors, boasting, “I’m good with my hands!” She mimicked Little Hei and inserted the scissors into another crevice. But she misjudged her strength; with a snap, she not only cut the card ball open but nicked a diamond five.

“Ah!” Xiaobai was scared and threw down the scissors, about to cry. “I damaged the card…”

“It’s okay, a small nick won’t affect use.” Wang Erma picked up the cut diamond five, holding it to the light. The nick was on the corner, not affecting the suit or rank. “Let’s treat it as a mark. From now on, our team’s cards will be identified by this ‘notched five.’”

Little Li’s eyes lit up and he quickly pulled out a pen. “I’ll write a poem for it!
‘Diamond five, with a notch,
Xiaobai’s cut leaves a mark to watch,
Win or lose, recognize this card,
In Master Ma’s team, it’s prized and starred.’—How’s that?”

“Good! Sounds better than the judge’s rules!” Wang Erma patted his shoulder and turned to Little Hei. “Keep cutting, just be careful.”

Little Hei nodded and resumed cutting, more cautiously this time, poking the scissors into the crevices bit by bit like trimming a little ghost’s hair. Old Zhou crouched nearby with a clean cloth, wiping each freed card more carefully than he handled his chips. Meng Po brought the soup bowl around, occasionally offering sips. “Drink some sweetness, ease your nerves.”

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The sun slowly tilted westward, casting long shadows from the city god temple, enveloping the wooden basin and the card ball within. After nearly half an incense stick’s worth of time, Little Hei finally managed to cut the card ball apart—though three cards bore small cuts and two had bent corners, at least none were completely ruined. Xiaobai squatted on the ground, picking the cards out one by one, counting: “Heart ace, spade king, diamond five… three more to go!”

“They’re here!” Old Zhou pulled three cards from his blue cloth pouch—apparently dropped there during cutting and buried under his chips. He wiped them clean and placed them into the basin, sighing in relief. “Complete, no missing cards.”

Wang Erma shuffled the cards in the basin. Though crooked and still clinging to grass scraps, they finally looked like a deck. “Alright, that’s enough for today.” He gathered the cards together. “Tomorrow I’ll shuffle myself. You two, no more messing around.”

“I won’t mess up!” Xiaobai quickly raised her hand. “I’m good at picking up cards!”

Little Hei nodded as well. “I’ll hold the cards steady, so they don’t fall.”

Old Zhou stuffed the cut pieces of thin paper back into his pouch. “I… I’ll watch the basin, make sure no little ghosts steal the cards.”

Little Li copied down the “shuffling poem” and the “notched five poem” onto a sheet, then pasted it on a pillar of the city god temple. “Post it here. Before shuffling next time, recite it to make sure no more card balls form.”

Meng Po packed away the broken bamboo chopsticks. “I’ll go get some glutinous rice paste to glue the damaged cards—last time I used it to fix a soup bowl; it should work for cards too.”

Watching everyone bustling about, Wang Erma suddenly felt that Four Clash wasn’t so daunting after all. Even though the cards had become a tangled ball and scissors had nicked a few, Old Zhou’s carefulness, Xiaobai’s frantic tears, Little Hei’s steady effort, Little Li’s poems, and Meng Po’s glutinous rice paste made this gathering livelier than any card game in a human neighborhood.

He crouched down, picked up the judge’s cloth pouch, dusted off the dirt—the draft rules inside were still there, with the bottom sheet titled “Legal Wild Guesses” faintly visible in the sunlight. Wang Erma smiled and tucked the pouch under the card table. When the judge came, he’d say he was just holding it for him.

Suddenly, Xiaobai shouted, “Master Ma! Look!” She held up the heart ace, the corner still bearing Little Hei’s scissor mark. “This card is the most intact! Next time we play Four Clash, let’s use it as our ‘lucky card’!”

“Deal!” Wang Erma took it and placed it into the wooden basin. “That’s the one! With this, our team’s sure to win!”

Old Zhou quickly nudged the heart ace to the top of the pile, careful not to soil it with grass scraps. Little Hei and Xiaobai crouched by the basin, carefully stacking the cards, while Little Li recited a poem nearby:

“Four decks, though shuffled in a mess,
With united hearts, they’ll progress,
Lucky card, the heart ace shines,
Master Ma’s team will claim the prize!”

The sunset stretched the city god temple’s shadow even longer, gilding the cards in the basin. Even the notched diamond five no longer looked so unsightly. Wang Erma looked at the crooked pile of cards and suddenly thought that even if they tangled into a ball again tomorrow, as long as this group was together, it was worth it—after all, here, winning or losing didn’t matter; having companions to fumble about with was better than anything.