Chapter 34: The Judge’s “Counting Abacus” Is Wrong, Yet He Remains Stubborn

Meng Po poured the three pounds of melon seeds Old Zhao had bought into a bamboo basket; they were a rich, golden yellow and still radiated the warmth of fresh roasting. Old Zhou crouched nearby, carefully collecting the discarded shells into his blue cloth bag—he claimed that "saving them up makes for a good cushion, keeps the stool from hurting my backside." This brought a laugh from Little Li, who immediately improvised a rhyme: "Old Zhou saves the hulls for a seat, his penny-pinching is truly elite."

Wang Er’ma had just cracked open a seed when the Judge walked over, carrying a bulging cloth satchel. He set it down by the stone table and pulled out a wooden abacus with a clatter. The beads were made of ebony and were slightly smaller than those on a standard abacus, with the words "Card Counting Exclusive" carved into the frame.

"This is my newly improved 'Card Counting Abacus,'" the Judge said, adjusting his triple-thick reading glasses and tapping the beads. "Each bead represents one card—red beads for red cards, black for black. Never again shall I miscount!" After being sentenced by King Yama to copy out the rules ten times for miscounting players in Fight the Landlord and cards in Four-Flush, he had specially crafted this device, determined to wash away his shame.

"Oh, the Judge’s abacus looks the part," Wang Er’ma remarked, leaning in. "Just don't get confused and play an abacus bead as a card later."

"Impossible!" the Judge snapped, setting the abacus firmly on the table. "I’ve practiced for three days straight. My counting will be flawless!" He pulled a sheet of paper from his bag titled "Four-Flush Card Count Reference Table" and taped it to the side of the table. "Watch closely. For every mistake I make, I’ll buy you all a pound of melon seeds!"

Old Zhou’s eyes lit up, and he quickly slid his blue cloth bag closer. "Judge, you’d better keep your word. I’ll be waiting for those seeds!"

The game began, with the Judge responsible for dealing and counting. After the first round, he clicked the beads, muttering to himself, "Thirteen Hearts, thirteen Spades, thirteen Diamonds, thirteen Clubs. Four decks make 208 cards total. Subtracting what you have in hand..." As he calculated, a black bead suddenly clicked and fell to the floor, rolling under the stone table.

The Judge panicked and scrambled to find it. After fumbling around for a while, sweat beading on his forehead, he cried, "Did anyone see my bead? The small black one!"

Little Bai ran over to help, peering at the ground. "Here it is! It was blocked by Old Zhou’s blue bag." He picked it up and handed it back. "Judge, these beads fall off too easily. It’s like that time I accidentally washed my cards into a clump—not very sturdy."

"Nonsense!" The Judge jammed the bead back onto the abacus and started clicking again, faster this time. Before long, he looked up and announced, "Done! There are 12 cards left in the draw pile, and your hands total exactly 196!"

Wang Er’ma was about to nod when Old Zhou frowned. "That’s not right, Judge. I’ve got 28, Master Ma has 28, Little Li has 28, and the three opponents have 28 each. 28 times 6 is 168. 208 minus 168 is 40. How could there be 12 left?"

Old Zhou, who was always sharper with his chips than anyone else, didn't hesitate. He pulled out a small notebook and calculated it line by line for the Judge. "28 plus 28 is 56, plus 28 is 84. The three opponents have 84 too. 84 plus 84 is 168. 208 minus 168 is 40. See? You’re off by 28 cards!"

The Judge stared at the notebook and clicked his abacus again, moving even slower, his fingers trembling. "Impossible... I distinctly calculated 12 left..." He checked the abacus again and realized two red beads were missing—they hadn't just been the black one; two red ones had rolled toward Meng Po’s soup vat and were now coated in sweet broth.

"Judge, here are your red beads!" Meng Po fished them out, wiped them off, and handed them over. "Your abacus is quite flimsy; the beads fall off just like my soup bowls—spill the moment you touch them."

The Judge took the beads, his face flushed, but he remained stubborn. "Even with the missing beads, I remember there being 12! You must have counted wrong!" He reached for the reference table, but the wind had curled the edges, making the numbers illegible.

Little Li leaned in and recited his latest verse: "The Judge’s beads fall to the floor, his counting is a mess once more. Forty cards remain, he says twelve, stubborn to the core!"

The whole group burst into laughter. One of the ghosts on the opposing team added, "Judge, I really do have 28 cards. I counted three times. No mistake!"

The Judge had nothing left to say. He clicked the abacus one more time, having replaced the fallen beads, and his voice dropped to a mumble. "Oh... it seems there are 40 left. I miscalculated..."

"A miscalculation is a miscalculation!" Old Zhou chimed in. "Judge, you said a pound of seeds per mistake. Since you were off by 28, that makes 28 pounds, right?"

"You..." The Judge glared at Old Zhou, then glanced at Wang Er’ma. "I said a pound for *one mistake*, not a pound for every missing card!" He kept up the tough act, but his hand instinctively patted his satchel, where he kept his "emergency seeds." He had only meant to put on a show of confidence, never expecting to actually pay up.

Wang Er’ma laughed. "Judge, don't mind Old Zhou; he’s just obsessed with your seeds. How about this: bring us three pounds, just like Old Zhao did last time, and we’ll call it even. Otherwise, if King Yama comes by and finds out you miscounted, you’ll be copying the rules again."

At the mention of "copying rules," the Judge nodded hurriedly. "Fine! Three pounds it is! I’ll bring them tomorrow!" He stuffed the abacus and the reference table into his bag, terrified of another mishap. "Continue the game! I’ll get it right this time!"

For the rest of the match, the Judge was exceptionally careful. He confirmed every click of the beads, holding his breath to avoid knocking anything loose. Old Zhou kept prodding him: "Judge, count it again. Don’t mess up; I’m still waiting for those seeds!"

The Judge retorted irritably, "I know, I know! Keep nagging and I won't bring them at all!"

Meng Po brought over a bowl of soup and handed it to the Judge. "Drink this to settle your nerves, Judge. Don't be so tense. It’s like my soup-making—take it slow, and nothing will burn."

The Judge took a sip and stayed silent, but the corners of his mouth softened. He had indeed been too tense; otherwise, he wouldn't have dropped so many beads.

Wang Er’ma watched the Judge gingerly clicking his abacus and then looked at the way Old Zhou was eyeing the Judge's satchel, and he couldn't help but smile. These Underworld card games were something else—not just about winning, but the entertainment of watching the Judge fumble his counts and pay out in melon seeds. It was far more interesting than the card games back in the human apartment complex.

When the game ended, the Judge hadn't made another mistake. He packed up his abacus and left as if fleeing, but not before calling back, "I’ll bring the seeds tomorrow! Don't tell King Yama about the miscount!"

Old Zhou waved him off. "Don't worry, Judge! I won't say a word, as long as the seeds arrive!"

Watching the Judge’s retreating figure, Little Li improvised one last poem: "The Judge’s beads fell, his counting was droll, but he pays out in seeds with a soft, stubborn soul. If he messes up next time, we’ll keep the rhymes in control!"

Wang Er’ma patted Little Li’s shoulder. "That’s enough, or the Judge won't dare show his face again. Come on, let's look forward to tomorrow's seeds."

The wind gusted across the card table, carrying the scent of roasted seeds and sweet soup. Old Zhou tucked the shells he had collected back into his blue bag, grinning from ear to ear. He hadn't just won the game; he had earned a shipment of seeds. This trip for the Four-Flush qualifiers had truly been worth it.