Rules of an Asian Card Game（Zha Jin Hua）

Rule Explanation

Number of Players Typically 2-6 players, suitable for multiplayer.

Number of Cards A standard 52-card deck is used, and each player is dealt 3 cards.

Objective The goal is to form the strongest possible hand based on the card combinations.

Card Rankings - Three of a Kind (Leopard): Three identical cards (e.g., three Aces, three Kings).

- Straight: Three consecutive cards, suits do not matter (e.g., A-2-3, 10-J-Q).

- Pair: Two cards of the same rank (e.g., a pair of 10s).

- High Card: If no pair or straight is formed, the highest card in the hand determines the ranking.

Betting Players can either bet or fold during the game. In rounds with betting, players must match the previous player’s bet to continue participating.

Comparing Hands Hands are compared based on the card ranking: Leopard > Straight > Pair > High Card.

Determining the Winner - Card rank priority: Leopard > Straight > Pair > High Card.

- If two players have the same hand type, the highest individual card is compared.

Game Process 1. Each player is dealt 3 cards.

2. Players make decisions based on their hand, either betting or folding.

3. After one round of betting, players reveal their hands, and the best hand wins based on the card rankings.

Betting Limits The betting amount is typically determined by the table's blind or minimum bet, and there is usually a maximum bet limit for each round.

Nobody dislikes money.

I’m no exception.

But I couldn’t figure out what Mei Jie meant by her comment, so I asked, “How do I make it?”

Mei Jie glanced around the casino and pointed at two people standing behind the blackjack table. “See them? The one in the white shirt and black vest is the dealer. The one next to her is responsible for the chips. I know the owner of this casino. If you’re interested, I can recommend you for the chip runner position.

Your current salary at Tianxiang is a thousand a month, right? As a chip runner, you’d make three and a half thousand, plus tips from winners. Your monthly income wouldn’t be less than five thousand.

And if you do well and get experienced, you could move up to being a dealer, doubling your earnings to over ten thousand a month!”

Mei Jie was referring to a chip runner’s job: quickly calculating players’ winnings or losses and settling the chips accordingly. It’s all about mental math and quick reflexes.

For me, it would’ve been easy.

But I still shook my head. “Thanks, Mei Jie, but I’m not interested.”

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My refusal clearly took Mei Jie by surprise. Her expression was full of disbelief.

“You’re not interested? Do you even know how many people would kill for this job? I only thought of you because you’re steady and quick-witted. I figured you’d be good at it. And you’re telling me you don’t want to do it?”

“That’s right. I don’t want to. Compared to this place, I’d rather stick to the bathhouse.”

“Why?” Mei Jie pressed.

“Because at the bathhouse, I get to see you every day.”

My answer left Mei Jie exasperated, somewhere between laughter and tears. Her initial curiosity turned into an expression that said she was looking at an idiot.

Of course, I was joking.

I’d spent thirteen years mastering sleight of hand, and if I ended up working as a chip runner in a casino, Sixth Master would break my legs if he ever found out.

Unlike the bathhouse, where I was just a lowly attendant unfamiliar with the trade, stepping into a casino meant entering my domain.

In a casino, I could only ever play one role: the boss.

That’s who I was—Sixth Master Chu!

As Mei Jie stood there, shaking her head at me, my phone rang.

The phone was an old Nokia 3310 I’d bought second-hand from a coworker last month. Answering it, I heard Hou Jun’s voice on the other end.

“Chu Liu, same spot—Hui Mai Supermarket. Hurry, we’ve got a game starting!”

Hou Jun was the team lead for the men’s bath area at our workplace. A smooth-talking, fair-skinned guy, he was quite popular with Mei Jie.

The “same spot” he mentioned was a small supermarket owned by one of his friends. After work, Hou Jun would often gather some of us there for a game of Three-Card Brag.

I often joined in.

After saying goodbye to Mei Jie, I headed straight out.

The Hui Mai Supermarket was a small shop on the main street. When we played cards, we used a back room.

By the time I arrived, five or six people were already there.

I knew them all—most were bathhouse attendants like me. Among them was Hou Jun’s childhood friend Zheng Cheng, better known as “Blackie.”

Blackie was tall, burly, and intimidating, with a muscular build that made him look formidable.

According to Hou Jun, Blackie had been a provincial sanda champion on the verge of joining the national team. But he got kicked out after an affair with a high-ranking sports official’s wife. The furious official ensured his dismissal.

Back in our city of Ha Bei, Blackie drifted aimlessly, often hanging out at the bathhouse with Hou Jun.

Whenever we played cards, he joined in.

Unlike usual, Hou Jun had brought his girlfriend, Chen Xiaoxue, this time. She was a massage therapist at the bathhouse, attractive but sharp-tongued and snobbish.

She barely acknowledged the lower-ranking staff. When someone greeted her, she’d often act as though she hadn’t heard them.

Once everyone was ready, Hou Jun called for the shop owner to bring a deck of cards, and the game began.

The stakes were small—five yuan to start, with a ten-yuan cap.

This meant the highest bet was ten yuan. However, if someone placed a blind bet of ten yuan, those who had looked at their cards had to raise to twenty yuan to follow.

Although the stakes seemed low, it wasn’t unusual for a game to end with winnings or losses in the thousands. For attendants earning only a thousand yuan a month, one game could cost them an entire paycheck.

I never cheated in these games.

It wasn’t out of kindness or guilt—I simply didn’t need to.

The money I won at these games was enough for me to rent an apartment instead of living in the company dorms.

It wasn’t about luck or skill either. The secret lay in the cards.

Hou Jun always had the shop owner bring marked decks—magic cards, as some called them. They looked identical to regular playing cards but had tiny markings on the back that revealed the suit and rank.

This amateur-level trick was obvious to someone like me.

I didn’t need to cheat to win. To keep suspicion at bay, I’d even lose a few rounds on purpose, making my wins seem more natural.

As the game began, everyone was focused on their cards.

Although Hou Jun could read the cards, his eyesight wasn’t great. After glancing at one or two hands, he’d often lose track of the others. Most players instinctively kept their cards close together, so Hou Jun could only identify the top card at best.

Adding to his woes, his luck was terrible that night. Despite knowing his own cards, he couldn’t fully gauge his opponents’ hands. A few bold bets later, he was down several hundred yuan, clearly frustrated and muttering curses under his breath.

Usually, Hou Jun dominated these games. But tonight, after losing a few rounds, his confidence wavered.

In the current hand, one of our colleagues was the dealer.

I had a great draw: a club flush with Ace, Jack, and Ten.

Hou Jun wasn’t as lucky, holding a spade flush with King, Nine, and Seven.

Seated diagonally from Hou Jun, with Blackie between us, I was out of his line of sight.

When my cards were dealt, I quickly arranged them: the Ace on the bottom and the Ten on top. Even if Hou Jun spotted the Ten, it wouldn’t matter.

Seeing his own flush with a King, Hou Jun decided to put on a show.

“Damn it, I’ve been losing all night! No way I’m losing this hand. Ten yuan!”

He tossed his chips onto the table.

Two players folded immediately.

The next player, desperate to recover losses, blindly followed with ten yuan.

When it was my turn, I casually matched the bet.