Dealer
Los Angeles, 4:11 AM
The rain fell without any ceremony, as if someone had torn a layer of plastic wrap from the sky.
Yu Chen slung the red boxing glove bag over his shoulder and pushed open the glass door of the 24-hour internet cafe—
The neon lights blurred into indistinct spots in the rain, like blood washed away by water.
In the corner, an old Apple computer shone with a cold white light, and the person in front of the screen wore a black hood, his knuckles tapping out machine gun-like rhythms on the keyboard.
"Engraving seals".
Yu Chen tossed the broken SIM card onto the table, his voice low and steady, "I want a new identity."
The hood lifted, revealing an excessively pale face—
A 23-year-old Chinese woman with dark circles under her eyes that looked like they were smeared with ink, but her lip color was strangely bright.
He glanced at her, and his sharp tongue instantly kicked in—
"Hey, isn't this the crazy little guy who got himself a death certificate?"
"What, if the King of Hell won't take you, then you'll come after me?"
Yu Chen pulled his hat brim down to his brow bone, his voice trailing off in a cold tone:
"Three hours. I need to get into Viktor Drakovic's favorite casino."
"Job is not limited, as long as it's close to him."
The engraver clicked his tongue, his fingertips clattering across the keyboard:
"Victoire? That Russian cancer who made his fortune by withdrawing loans?"
He frequented only one casino—'Tsar', the VIP room.
The position closest to him…
He paused, the screen's reflection forming green code in his pupils.
"—The card dealer."
Yu Chen's eyebrows twitched: "No dealers?"
The seal-carving shrugs, the venomous tongue continues:
"The dealer needs a background check on three generations of your family, you?"
Unregistered resident + death certificate + red boxing glove bag
They're afraid you'll flip the table.
He turned the screen around, and a job posting appeared prominently on the page—
【Tsar Casino · Blackjack Dealer】
Requirements: Female, 18-25 years old, attractive, fast hands, no criminal record.
Note: Short-term training is available, meals and accommodation are provided, and tips are paid daily.
The man tapped the "No Criminal Record" line with his fingertip, grinning smugly.
“I have ways to erase criminal records. As for hand speed… you're a boxer, it shouldn’t be slow.”
As for being good-looking—"
He looked her up and down, a rare hint of sincerity mixed in with his sharp tongue.
"Tuck your bright red hair into your hat, don't laugh, and you'll pass the test."
Identity information - fresh out of print in 30 minutes
Chinese name: Cheng Yan
English name: Amber Cheng
Born: March 17, 2005 (3 months younger than actual age)
Resume: Dropped out of the Mathematics Department at Nevada State College
Hand speed test: 0.18 seconds/card (casino requires less than 0.2 seconds)
Criminal record: Zero (the seal was completely erased using an "eraser" process).
Photo: Taken on the spot by Yu Chen, black hair, cold face, no smile on her lips—like she's taking a funeral portrait of herself.
Ke Zhang tossed the USB drive to her, his voice lowering, unusually detached from his sharp tongue:
"The dealer is the dealer, don't underestimate this position—"
Viktor sits at your table every weekend.
He had a habit of throwing his chips to the dealer as a tip after winning the last hand.
"The 'near' you're looking for is right there."
Pre-job training room
On the second basement level of Tsar, there was an abandoned poker table, and the light bulbs cast a dim yellow light.
The engraver leaned against the doorframe, twirling a black chip between his fingers, his voice sweet with a hint of venom:
"Deal the cards steadily, smile coldly, and don't let a single strand of your bright red hair show."
Remember, you are not Yu Chen, you are Cheng Yan.
The "smoke" in Cheng Yan's name refers to the smoke rising from the lips, not rouge.
Yu Chen shuffled the last deck of cards at a speed of 0.16 seconds per card, his hand speed so fast it left afterimages.
She looked up, her gaze piercing through the dim light of the bulb, as if piercing through a layer of blood blurred by water:
"Cheng Yan doesn't smile, she only deals cards."
"After the cards were dealt, it was Viktor's turn to cry."
Tsar Casino · Weekend 00:00
The crystal chandelier was dazzlingly bright, and the air in the VIP room was filled with the scent of cigars and mint.
Viktor Drakovic sat in the very center of table number seven—
A 45-year-old Russian, with short, gray hair, rough knuckles, and a Patek Philippe watch gleaming coldly on his wrist.
He had a habit of piling up his chips into a fortress, and after each win, he would flick the top chip to the dealer with his fingertip—
It's like giving a tip, and also like charity.
Yu Chen—no, Cheng Yan—stood at the card-dealing station.
Her hair was shoulder-length black, her skin was fair and cool, and her lips were so pale they were almost invisible. Her knuckles tapped lightly on the green cloth table, producing a very soft "tap".
She looked up, her gaze passing through the crystal chandelier, and briefly met Vivi's eyes—
It's like a card dealer aimed at the bullseye.
“Shuffle——”
Her voice was low and cold, spoken in Chinese, yet with a perfectly appropriate foreign accent.
The playing cards unfolded at her fingertips, a fan-shaped afterimage flashed, and were quickly gathered together—
0.16 seconds per image, faster than a machine.
Viktor raised an eyebrow, fixing his gaze on the dealer's face for the first time, his voice carrying a heavy Russian accent:
"New girl? Handy."
He lightly tapped the table with his fingertips, as if marking his prey.
Yu Chen remained expressionless, only mentally marking that symbol with an X:
—The prey has been identified; it's time to close the net.
The VIP room closed at 3:11 a.m.
Viktor flicked the last 100,000-dollar chip to Yu Chen, his voice low and hoarse:
"For your silence."
Yu Chen caught the chip, his fingertips tracing its edge, his voice cold and drawn-out:
"I only silence for the dead."
She looked up, her gaze like a knife chilled by ice water:
"Hope you'll be one soon."
Viktor paused for half a second, then burst into laughter, revealing his golden canines—
He thought it was dry humor.
He didn't know that the woman dealing the cards in front of him...
I have already obtained a death certificate for myself.
Now, it's time to write his obituary.
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