Chapter 12: Modern Mathematical Knowledge and Ancient Gambling Techniques

The dice cup landed on the table with a crisp final clatter—three of a kind!

The entire room fell into a heavy silence.

“The Dice Whisperer” went pale, his face draining of color as cold sweat trickled down his temples and cheeks, dripping onto the gambling table. His pride—his unparalleled ability to "hear" the dice—was completely useless against Ye Qingyan’s chaotic, unpredictable shaking. This was no mere gamble; it was sorcery!

“This is terrifying! I can’t keep playing like this; I must change tactics,” he thought.

“I’m done playing!” he suddenly slammed his hand on the table, rising abruptly. His eyes burned red as he fixed them on Ye Qingyan. “This ‘higher or lower’ game is pure luck, not real skill! If you’ve got the guts, let’s play Pai Gow! That tests calculation and card skills!”

The Dice Whisperer thought: I have to change the rules, bring this game back to what I know. Pai Gow is endlessly variable, relying on coordination and strategy—not just luck.

The Golden Abacus immediately chimed in: “Ah, yes! Mr. Dice Whisperer is right. Gambling is about skill. Miss Ye, do you dare to play?”

The noble sons around them jeered, unwilling to believe Ye Qingyan possessed any genuine gambling talent. They simply thought she’d been lucky. Now with a new game, she would surely be exposed.

On the surface, Ye Qingyan showed slight hesitation, her eyes flickering as if struck at a vulnerable point.

“Uh... well...” Her lips twitched as if to refuse.

But in the end, she bit her lip and stomped her foot firmly. “Fine! Let’s play! I, Ye Qingyan, am no coward! Bring it on!”

In truth, she was secretly delighted. When it came to luck, she had the system's bug in her favor; when it came to intellect—she was a modern mind bombarded by information, not afraid of any opponent. Although Pai Gow was complex, it still fell within the realm of probability theory. As a science student, she had mastered probability theory well back in the day.

New tiles were swiftly laid out on the table, and the air grew tense. Ye Qingyan reined in her previous wild demeanor, replaced by an inexplicable calm. Her hands trembled faintly as she picked up her tiles, no longer a mere jitter but a deliberate, unnatural quiver.

—

The Dice Whisperer began dealing. His movements were practiced and rhythmic—shuffling, cutting, dealing—all in one smooth flow, trying to use this invisible pressure to disrupt Ye Qingyan’s mind.

But she remained unmoved, still performing her act. Sometimes murmuring to her tiles, “Ah, my mother said this tile has a streak of blue smoke—good omen!” At other moments, she blew gently on a tile, whispering, “Big tile, big tile, come to my bowl! From all directions! Money, money!”

The onlookers, witnessing her madness, dared not laugh this time. Having been slapped down before, they only eagerly awaited the outcome.

Her “madness” and ill-timed muttering irritated The Dice Whisperer and Golden Abacus immensely. They searched her expression and movements for flaws but found only a crazed woman babbling nonsense. This nonsensical behavior disrupted their rhythm instead.

Though she seemed chaotic, Ye Qingyan was clear-headed inside. She vaguely applied modern probability theory, combining it with the system’s “shaky hands always win” bug, analyzing the flow of each round.

The Dice Whisperer played a pair of “two dots.” Ye Qingyan looked at her tiles and feigned confusion, shaking her head. “Oh dear, what’s this called? Ah, right—big data shows the probability of drawing a pair this round is 33.3%! Isn’t your tile a bit small?”

As she spoke, she “accidentally” slid out a seemingly random tile. When revealed, that tile perfectly countered The Dice Whisperer’s pair.

“You!” he widened his eyes in disbelief. He couldn’t believe Ye Qingyan could utter such unheard-of “theories,” much less win the round.

In the following rounds, her “mad talk” grew even more bizarre.

“Oh dear, this tile seems like a sunk cost. Keep investing, and you’ll lose big!”

“Look at your tile path; you’re clearly trapped in a prisoner’s dilemma. Giving up early is the optimal solution!”

These modern terms were like arcane scripture to the ancient gambler. They pricked The Dice Whisperer’s mind like fine needles, making him dizzy and losing all judgment. He began to suspect he was cursed. This madwoman’s words were incomprehensible, yet strangely, every time she uttered nonsense, she won.

His rhythm was completely shattered. His once meticulous calculations became riddled with holes under Ye Qingyan’s “dimensional reduction attack.” He repeatedly made mistakes, ruining his good tiles.

—

During the intermission, Chen Huai’an approached Ye Qingyan with a cup of tea. As he handed it over, he tapped the cup’s rim quickly—a secret military signal only they, childhood friends, understood.

Ye Qingyan’s heart tightened. She realized this was a hint about possible cheating. She took the tea without a hint of emotion, while Chen Huai’an slipped back into the shadows as if nothing had happened. He had been helping her all along.

With the second half underway, Ye Qingyan gained confidence. She deliberately feigned a flaw, playing a tile seemingly vulnerable to The Dice Whisperer’s counters.

His eyes lit up, believing she had finally slipped. Ecstatic, he seized the opportunity, pushing all his good tiles forward to lure Ye Qingyan into a high-stakes gamble. He thought if he won this round, he could recover all losses and disgrace Ye Qingyan completely.

Ye Qingyan watched his smug face, a faint, barely noticeable smile curling at her lips. She knew the fish had taken the bait.

The game reached its climax; everyone’s chips were on the table. Golden Abacus and Wang Feifei wore triumphant smiles, already imagining Ye Qingyan’s utter ruin. Ye Qinglian even laughed aloud.

Before revealing her hand, Ye Qingyan suddenly looked at Wang Feifei, her smile turning meaningful. “Auntie, I’m just too lucky—worried I’ll win too much. How about we raise the stakes and bet… that phoenix hairpin you’re wearing?”

The phoenix hairpin was a gift from the Ye family matriarch when Wang Feifei married into the family, symbolizing her status as the household mistress. Ye Qingyan was striking at the root—threatening Wang Feifei’s very foundation in the Ye family!

Wang Feifei’s smile froze; she never expected Ye Qingyan to dare make such a demand. Her face instantly turned ashen.

Her eyes darted wildly. “This…”