Chapter 20: The Trap

What Wu Dazhuang called “business” was actually gambling.

But it wasn’t just ordinary gambling—it was a setup.

A table of four players, whether playing mahjong or cards, would consist of three insiders forming a team. The fourth player was known as “the sheep.”

Wu Dazhuang called this scam “eating mutton.”

He explained the process to Jing Xi.

They would lure a stranger into the game, letting them win at first to hook them in. Once the target was completely addicted, they would begin harvesting their money.

During the “harvesting” phase, they would assess the sheep’s mindset and decide whether to let them win or lose strategically.

Once the sheep had lost everything, they would encourage them to recruit new players.

And so, the cycle continued.

“So it’s just a scam?” Jing Xi frowned. “Wu Dazhuang, do you even realize that gambling is illegal? This is organized gambling!”

Wu Dazhuang sneered. “You think just anyone can run a gambling den? There are powerful people backing this. And this setup is extremely secretive—not just anyone can find it. The only reason I’m telling you is that you’ve got some skill and a sharp mind. If you don’t want in, plenty of others will.”

What Wu Dazhuang didn’t mention was that he had once been a sheep himself.

Back then, he had lost all his money. The boss of the operation had taken pity on him and recruited him into the scheme.

The money he lost? That was the same money he had begged Wu Jun for—the earnings from working as a temporary accountant for the village.

He had worked an entire autumn to earn 200 yuan, only to gamble it all away in two days.

When he couldn’t pay up, they nearly chopped off his fingers. It was only because the boss felt sorry for him that he was given a second chance. The boss had even said, “For every person you bring in, you’ll get 20 yuan.”

Jing Xi remained silent, which made Wu Dazhuang anxious.

“So? Are you in or not?”

“I’m not.”

“Don’t regret it!” Wu Dazhuang snapped. “And if you’re not in, keep your mouth shut!”

What Wu Dazhuang didn’t know was that, underneath that pile of tattered clothes at home, Jing Xi had hidden five thousand yuan and a bankbook. If he knew, would he still be doing this?

Two days later, the police came to the village again to ask more questions.

They informed the villagers that two theft cases had been solved in town, but the suspects refused to admit to stealing anything in Fucha Village.

A week had passed since the Zhang family lost their money, and there was still no progress. Their anxiety was becoming more and more obvious.

Wang Cuihua had lost several pounds from the stress.

On Monday morning, Zhang Qiang hurried to the village office to meet Xie Aiguo and Wu Jun.

Jing Xi happened to see him and decided to follow discreetly to watch the situation unfold.

When Zhang Qiang arrived, the two men immediately knew why he was there.

“Lao Zhang, how’s it going? Any progress at home?” Xie Aiguo asked.

Zhang Qiang sighed and shook his head. “No. Sigh… I haven’t slept well in a week. My son isn’t even married yet, and now all the money is gone… I don’t know what to do.”

“Don’t worry too much,” Xie Aiguo reassured him. “Worrying won’t help. The police have already caught a gang of thieves in town, and they’re taking this case seriously. I’m sure they’ll find your money.”

“Yeah, I think so too,” Wu Jun added.

Zhang Qiang glanced at Wu Jun and suddenly remembered that Wu Dazhuang hadn’t visited his house in a while.

Casually, he asked, “What’s Dazhuang been up to lately? He hasn’t come over to see Jianjun in a long time.”

“I haven’t seen him in days either,” Wu Jun replied. “No idea what he’s up to—I don’t keep track of him.”

“Oh…”

“Lao Zhang,” Xie Aiguo cut in, “Wu Jun and I have a meeting in town later, so we can’t chat for long.”

It was a clear signal that the conversation was over. Zhang Qiang realized they wouldn’t be much help, so he got up and left.

From behind the window, Jing Xi secretly watched.

She suddenly had a feeling—Zhang Qiang was starting to suspect Wu Dazhuang.

Instead of heading home, Zhang Qiang walked straight toward Old Man Xia’s house.

Jing Xi, observing his direction and the thoughtful look on his face, was almost certain.

She found a hidden spot, entered her space, and stood in the corridor, secretly listening in.

As usual, Old Man Xia was sitting outside, basking in the sun.

He glanced sideways—right in Jing Xi’s direction.

Zhang Qiang hadn’t even reached the house yet when Old Man Xia suddenly stood up and started walking into the courtyard.

“Hey, Master Xia!” Zhang Qiang called out.

Old Man Xia let out a low grunt.

“Everything is just karma.”

“Master Xia, I was in the wrong back then! Please find a way to help me break this fate! I’ll pay double the divination fee!”

“I cannot read your fortune. I told you back then—one must be cautious and righteous, never stray onto crooked paths. Only then can you receive the unexpected wealth destined for you. But you didn’t listen. There’s nothing I can do.”

Zhang Qiang stepped forward and grabbed Old Man Xia’s arm. “Master Xia, I was young and impulsive back then—I didn’t listen! But now I truly realize my mistake! Look, we’ve lived in the same village for so many years!”

“Face? And how is it that I lost my sight? You should know best!”

Jing Xi was shocked. Could it be that Old Man Xia had foreseen an ill fate for Zhang Qiang in his divination?

And Zhang Qiang, unwilling to accept it, had blinded him in anger?

Zhang Qiang was speechless, feeling as though something were stuck in his throat. He had thought he had done it in complete secrecy.

“I… It was all a misunderstanding!”

“Whether it was a misunderstanding or intentional, it no longer matters. I have long known that losing my sight was my destined calamity—this is my karma. But your karma, you must repay yourself—no one can help you!”

As soon as Old Man Xia finished speaking, a man around Zhang Qiang’s age stepped out from the Xia family courtyard. It was Old Man Xia’s eldest son, Xia Lidong. The moment he saw Zhang Qiang outside, he hurried over to support his father.

“Lidong, let’s go inside. I’m a little thirsty—boil some water for me. Also, close the gate. No more visitors.”

Xia Lidong glanced at Zhang Qiang before shutting the door firmly.

“Father, it’s cold. From now on, sunbathe indoors instead. Don’t go outside too much, or you might catch a chill.”

“Mm, I’ll listen to you.”

Zhang Qiang stared at the black wooden door in front of him. His brow twitched, and an ominous feeling surged within him.

He recalled the divination Old Man Xia had given him years ago—a reading he had waited three whole months for. Yet before he had even set foot inside the Xia family’s house, Old Man Xia had already determined his fate by observing the way the leaves had fallen and the number of steps he had taken.

The result: the Kan hexagram.

At the time, Zhang Qiang hadn’t understood what Kan meant, but it didn’t sound like anything good.

Hearing Old Man Xia’s warning had only fueled his defiance.

After leaving the Xia house, he specifically sought out an expert to interpret the meaning of Kan—only to learn that it was an extremely inauspicious hexagram.

Back then, he had been in his early thirties, full of arrogance and confidence. He had abused his small position of power, making things difficult for young intellectuals sent to the countryside. Life had been smooth sailing—how could he possibly accept such a dire fortune?

Unwilling to believe it, he hired a group of thugs to beat Old Man Xia. He had only intended to vent his frustration, but during the struggle, Old Man Xia accidentally hit his head and lost his sight forever.

The moment the Xia family returned home, the thugs had fled in panic.

At the time, the Xia family hadn’t reported it to the authorities or made a scene. Zhang Qiang had assumed it was because Old Man Xia was afraid of him.

But in reality—

Old Man Xia had already foreseen his own fate.

Zhang Qiang turned and left.

Jing Xi, who had been eavesdropping from her hidden space, became intrigued.

Could it be that she was Zhang Qiang’s karmic retribution?

Then she suddenly recalled something Old Man Zhang had once said—some people wait to have their debts collected, while others walk right up to their creditors.