Chapter 23: The Four-Stroke Preview Class: The Deck Collapsed Three Times

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“Underworld Card Game: From Landlord to Six Flush,” Volume 1, Chapter 23: Four Flush Preparation Class – The Deck Collapsed Three Times

The incense table at the City God Temple had been moved to the center of the courtyard. On it lay four decks of cards, spread out like a patchwork quilt of vibrant colors. Er Ma Wang crouched by the table, fingers sifting through the piles, dividing them to the sides. Suddenly, with a rustle, all the cards slid back together—the four decks stacked too high, and the smooth edge of the table couldn’t support them.

“This isn’t playing cards; it’s building blocks,” Er Ma Wang said, straightening up and rubbing his knees. After squatting half the night practicing shuffling, his knees still ached. He glanced at Old Zhou crouching opposite, stuffing his cards into his arms, his blue cloth pouch bulging, revealing a corner of the “2 of Hearts.” “What are you hiding?” Er Ma Wang tapped the table edge. “Practicing cards is fine, but hiding cards is cheating.”

Old Zhou quickly shifted the pouch behind him, his face wrinkled like a walnut. “I’m not hiding anything… just afraid of dropping them.” He held three “3” cards, fingertips pinching the edges white. “Master Ma, do we really need 28 cards per deck? I just counted 15, and my hands are already shaking.”

“Why shake? No one’s taking your underworld coins.” Er Ma Wang slapped a handful of melon seeds on the table—“memory melon seeds” that Lady Meng had brought this morning. In truth, they were ordinary seeds, but Lady Meng claimed, “Chewing seeds helps remember cards faster.” Old Zhou had peeled all the seeds last night, saying, “No need to chew and get distracted.”

Xiao Li squatted at the other end of the incense table, a yellow paper under his knees, writing mnemonic poems with a brush dipped in water mixed with Lady Meng’s broth. The ink was sticky, and he stalled mid-verse: “Four decks, so many cards…” He scratched his head and glanced toward Old Zhou. “Brother Zhou, how many spades do you have? I need to fill out this poem.”

Old Zhou stuffed his cards tighter into his chest. “Don’t ask. Don’t know.” Last night, Er Ma Wang had forced him to break up a bomb—four “5” cards split into singles—and he still felt sore about it. He had spent half the night picking up cards from under the table, hoping to collect them back into a bomb.

“How can I memorize this?” Xiao Li laid down the brush. The yellow paper wrinkled from the broth stains. “In Landlord, 36 cards is enough. Four flushes have 112 cards. I’d have to write three pages of poetry, and by the time I’m halfway through, the opponents would have already played.” He sifted through his cards, suddenly exclaiming, “Why do I have two ‘Ace of Diamonds’? There should only be four of each card in four decks, right?”

“Stop counting randomly.” Er Ma Wang leaned over and saw two “Ace of Diamonds” mixed in Xiao Li’s pile, one “Ace of Clubs” partially underneath. Three cards stacked together—no wonder the count was off. “The Judge said, four decks have four of each card, you just haven’t spread them out.” As he reached to help organize Xiao Li’s cards, Old Zhou suddenly jumped up, his blue cloth pouch dropping to the ground with a “pop,” scattering cards everywhere.

“My cards!” Old Zhou pounced to gather them, fingers flicking rapidly, stuffing the “2”s and “A”s back into his pouch first, then placing the rest on the table. Er Ma Wang crouched to help. As they picked up the cards, he laughed—there was a melon seed shell mixed in Old Zhou’s pile, stuck with ink from the card corners, dropped while hiding cards last night.

“Your pouch holds more than Lady Meng’s broth bowl.” Er Ma Wang tossed the seed shell to Xiao Li, who picked it up and tapped it against the yellow paper like a pen. “Perfect—use this shell to mark cards. If it falls, it won’t hurt.”

Just then, a waft of soup fragrance drifted from the courtyard gate. Lady Meng appeared, carrying a large soup bucket with four small bowls hanging from the rim, each bowl rim smeared with sugar frost. “How’s the practice going?” She placed the bucket beside the incense table. The bucket bumped the table leg with a “thud,” causing the card piles to shake and two “4”s to fall.

“We’re almost a ‘card-gathering’ team,” Er Ma Wang said, picking up a small bowl filled with sweet soup, floating two lotus seeds. “Sister Meng, these bowls aren’t good as card holders. Yesterday Old Zhou stuck cards in the bowl, and when he played, half the soup splashed onto my sleeve.”

Lady Meng squatted down to help Xiao Li arrange his cards, her fingers wet from the broth smearing a ghost face on the “Queen of Hearts” into a smudged mark—like an extra eyebrow. “I’ll give you more stable ones.” She pulled four thick porcelain bowls from the bottom of the bucket, each with a ridged base. “These are my ‘stable bowls’ for soup—they’re heavy and won’t let the cards fall.”

Old Zhou’s eyes brightened, and he hurriedly inserted his cards into the porcelain bowl. After five cards, no more would fit. He pressed down anxiously. “What’s wrong? This bowl’s even smaller than yesterday’s.”

“Don’t force it,” Lady Meng smiled, shifting the bowls. “Four decks must be fanned out. You can’t fit many cards in the bowl; mainly, I’m worried you’re sweating on the cards.” She pointed to Old Zhou’s palms, soaked with sweat, softening the edges of the cards.

Xiao Li suddenly exclaimed, holding up his yellow paper. “Sister Meng, help me check this poem: ‘Three of Spades, five of Hearts, sequences must start from three, Old Zhou, don’t hide your bombs, when Master Ma calls ‘bomb,’ play the five’—does it flow?”

Lady Meng read it twice and was about to reply when the stone lion at the City God Temple gate stirred—actually, it was the Judge, carrying a cloth bag embroidered with “Rules.” The bag swung heavily with each step, as if weighted with bricks. “So you’re here,” he said, placing the bag on the incense table. “I’ve come to inspect the Four Flush preparations.”

“Inspect what? How many times we’ve picked up cards?” Er Ma Wang inserted a card into a bowl. “We just set it up, it’s bound to collapse when you come.”

The Judge ignored him, pulling out his abacus—his “card-counting abacus” with wooden beads polished smooth. “First, count the cards.” He struck the abacus on the table. “Four decks, 112 cards. Missing one is unacceptable.”

Old Zhou hastily emptied his arms, shaking out the melon seed shells from his blue pouch. “I have 28 cards, no more, no less.” He counted carefully, placing each card into the bowl to avoid mistakes.

Xiao Li counted along but stopped at 25, noticing an extra “Joker” in his pile—he already had four Jokers in four decks but now had a fifth. “Oh no.” He placed the Joker on the table. “I have an extra Joker. Did Old Zhou have fewer?”

Old Zhou recounted thrice. “No, I have exactly 28.”

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“Then the total number’s off.” The Judge slid beads on the abacus, frowning at the end. “113 cards. One extra Joker.” He placed the extra Joker on the table. “Who brought this in? Didn’t clean out the Landlord decks properly?”

They exchanged looks until Xiao Bai crawled out from under the incense table—he had helped sweep the cards this morning and had a “Big Joker” tucked in his chest, dropped last night. “Maybe it’s mine.” He placed the Joker on the table. “Last night Master Ma won the King of Hell’s cards, and I hid one as a bookmark.”

“That bookmark could blow someone up.” Er Ma Wang shoved the Joker into the pile. “Judge, what’s wrong with an extra card? They’re still cards.”

“No!” The Judge slammed the abacus. Beads clattered as two fell. “Four Flush rules require exactly 112 cards. One more or one less is a violation.” He squatted to pick up beads and suddenly exclaimed, pulling a “3 of Diamonds” from a gap in the table. “Here it is! Old Zhou dropped this yesterday and didn’t pick it all up.”

Old Zhou’s face flushed. “I spent half the night picking up cards…”

“Enough.” Er Ma Wang handed the extra Joker back to Xiao Bai. “Keep it as a bookmark, but don’t sneak cards into the deck again.” He gathered the cards toward the center. “Let’s continue practicing sequences. Judge, sequences start at five cards, right?”

“Yes, five cards of the same suit in consecutive order.” The Judge adjusted his abacus. “For example, 3 to 7 must be five cards, all the same suit, no mixing.” He pulled out a picture from his bag, showing hearts 3 through 7. “Like this. Missing one is no good.”

Xiao Li quickly stuck the picture on his yellow paper, pressing it down with a melon seed shell since the broth made glue ineffective. “Got it. Heart sequences need at least five cards.” He sifted through his cards, found a 3 and 4 of hearts but was short three more. He peered anxiously at Old Zhou. “Brother Zhou, do you have a 5 of Hearts? Lend me one.”

Old Zhou pressed his cards into the bowl. “No.” Just as he spoke, a card slid out—the 5 of Hearts.

“See, you have it.” Er Ma Wang picked it up and handed it over. “Lend it to him. You’re not losing it.”

Old Zhou grumbled reluctantly. “If you lend it, you must return it. Don’t break it up for bombs.” He feared breaking up a well-formed hand. Yesterday Er Ma Wang had forced him to break four “5”s, and he still nervously checked his pouch to ensure none were missing.

Lady Meng refilled each bowl with sweet soup, sprinkling sugar frost on Xiao Li’s yellow paper. “A little sweet broth helps remember better.” She noticed Old Zhou had only a few cards in his bowl, most piled on the table. “Old Zhou, why aren’t you putting cards in the bowl?”

“Can’t fit them.” Old Zhou sighed. “My cards are messy—singles and pairs. If I put them in, I can’t find anything.” He clutched a pair of “10”s, reluctant to break them apart, yet worried they’d be useless if left unused, fingers rubbing the card edges.

“I’ll teach you a trick.” Er Ma Wang spread out his own cards on the table, sorting by suit into four small piles. “Hearts here, spades there. Singles in the middle, pairs on the sides—clear and easy.” As he sorted Old Zhou’s cards, he laughed suddenly—among Old Zhou’s cards was an “Ace of Hearts” stuck to a cabbage leaf, dropped yesterday when Ah Xiang delivered vegetables. Old Zhou hadn’t noticed.

“Your cards are messier than Lady Meng’s soup.” Er Ma Wang plucked off the leaf. “Ah Xiang’s cabbage is better at grouping cards than you.”

Xiao Li slapped his thigh. “I remember now!” He grabbed his brush and quickly wrote:
“Hearts sorted, spades placed,
Singles, pairs don’t mix or waste,
Old Zhou, don’t hide your cards,
Master Ma teaches how to break.”
“All set!”

“Stop reciting. If you say more, the pile will collapse again.” Er Ma Wang had just warned when a crash came—Old Zhou’s cards did collapse. He hadn’t placed them steadily on the table, and with four decks stacked high, the pile toppled into a slope, scattering several “2”s.

“My twos!” Old Zhou lunged, flustered, stepping on his blue pouch, which opened and spilled melon seeds—his winnings from yesterday, kept as chips instead of soup, all stuffed in the pouch.

“Pick up cards first, then seeds.” Er Ma Wang crouched to help. As they gathered cards, he noticed something odd. “Why is there an extra ‘2 of Clubs’? Didn’t you only have two?”

Old Zhou was surprised, counting the “2”s in hand—three this time. “Maybe it got mixed when the pile collapsed.” He quickly stuffed the third “2” into his chest. “I picked it up; it doesn’t count as stealing.”

The Judge squatted nearby, counting the fallen cards on his abacus. Suddenly looking up, he said, “Not right. We counted 112 cards just now, but now it’s 111. Missing the ‘7 of Diamonds.’”

“What? Missing again?” Xiao Li anxiously peeked under the incense table. “Did it fall in a crack?”

Xiao Bai also crawled under, searching. After a long while, he pulled out a small spider, startled and shouting, “Nothing! Only a spider!”

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“Don’t panic.” Lady Meng smiled, pointing to Old Zhou’s chest. “Old Zhou, check your pouch. Maybe you stuffed it in while picking cards up.”

Old Zhou froze, reached into his chest, and sure enough, pulled out the “7 of Diamonds,” its edge stuck to a strand of his hair. “Oh… maybe I slipped it in just now while picking up cards.” He placed it on the table, cheeks slightly red. “I didn’t do it on purpose.”

“We know you didn’t.” Er Ma Wang patted his shoulder. “But with this memory, you’ll lose out in Four Flush.” He carefully restacked the toppled pile, this time only half a foot high, not too tall. “No greed. Let’s start practicing card recognition, sorting suits first.”

Xiao Li suddenly pointed at the pile. “Look! That card moved!”

Everyone looked, and indeed—the “3 of Hearts” floated half an inch above the pile, its corner shimmering faintly. A supernatural effect of Four Flush—before sequences are played, singles start to float.

“Don’t worry, it’s a small thing.” Er Ma Wang reached out to press the “3 of Hearts” back into the pile. “Yesterday Old Zhao came to try the cards. When sequences appeared, the whole table floated higher; he even stood on the table to play.”

Old Zhou quickly backed away from the table edge. “If the table floats, how do we play? Standing?”

“So what if we stand?” Er Ma Wang climbed onto a stone stool by the incense table. “Standing high gives a better view—perfect for watching if Old Zhou hides cards.”

Old Zhou hurriedly stuffed his cards back into the bowl, so hastily that the bowl wobbled, splashing some soup onto the cards. The ghost face on the “2 of Hearts” was soaked, looking as if it were grinning.

Lady Meng stood holding the soup bucket, sprinkling a bit of broth near the card pile. “A little broth will stop the floating.” Her soup had calming herbs, and shortly after, the floating cards obediently settled back on the table. “Alright, carry on. I’m off to deliver soup to Ah Xiang. She burned the cabbage this morning and is in a bad mood.”

“Tell her not to be grumpy—come help us shuffle this afternoon.” Er Ma Wang waved. “Her ‘kitchen shuffle’ might be steadier than ours.”

Lady Meng smiled and left. Sunlight slanted through the courtyard gate, shining on the card pile, making the “Ace of Hearts” gleam. Old Zhou carefully sorted his cards by suit, neater than Xiao Li’s mnemonic poem; Xiao Li crouched by the yellow paper, using melon seed shells to spell out “Sequence,” saying, “Spelling helps me remember.” Er Ma Wang leaned against the incense table, cracking a melon seed, watching the piles and his two teammates. Suddenly, four decks didn’t seem so daunting—better than cheating in Mahjong against Old Zhang in the neighborhood.

“Master Ma, look at my pair of Kings!” Old Zhou held up two cards, a rare smile on his face. “Can they beat a pair of Queens?”

“Sure! Why not!” Er Ma Wang patted his shoulder. “Once you’ve practiced enough, that pair of Kings will fly straight into Old Zhao’s face.”

Xiao Li joined in reciting:
“Master Ma says if you dare to throw,
Old Zhou’s Kings don’t fear the blow,
On the Four Flush battlefield we show,
Beat the champ first, then break the flow!”

Old Zhou blushed but didn’t hide his cards, instead pushing them toward the center. “Break if you must, as long as we win.”

The Judge sat nearby, flicking beads on his abacus, the clicking sounds lively. A small smile tugged at his lips—he had come to find faults this morning, but after watching, he found the “Master Ma team” more reliable than expected. At least their noisy camaraderie was more entertaining than Old Zhao playing alone, counting cards against his inkstone.

The card pile shook again, but no one panicked—Old Zhou steadied it, Xiao Li pressed down with a melon seed shell, and Er Ma Wang placed a soup bowl beside it. The warm sweet soup steamed softly, softening the cards, and none tried to float again.

“Next time, we practice sequences.” Er Ma Wang dropped a melon seed into everyone’s bowl. “Whoever forgets the suits has to shell a bowl of melon seeds.”

Old Zhou hurriedly recounted his cards again, carefully counting even the broth stains on the edges—afraid of being punished to shell seeds. He had shelled seeds half the night, still with bits stuck under his nails.