Calculation

For the past two years, Han Yang had worked two jobs. He had to get up at five every morning and could not get home until eight at night, then he studied on his own until eleven thirty. He had kept it up day after day for two years.

The two jobs had brought Han Yang a monthly salary of 3,500 yuan. But after rent, utilities, internet fees, and all kinds of daily expenses, there was barely anything left.

Even so, Han Yang had forcibly saved enough to buy a computer, subscribe to VIP memberships on several self-study websites and knowledge databases, and study for two years. At last, he had completed his foundation of prerequisite knowledge.

Fortunately, after he had "devoured" the abacus, Han Yang's mind had become much sharper than before, and his energy had improved considerably as well. Otherwise, he would never have been able to keep going.

Now that his knowledge base was complete, it was time to actually start making computer chips. But Han Yang had done the math: even buying the cheapest options would cost five or six thousand yuan. Factoring in waste and his daily expenses during the chip-making process, he needed at least another ten thousand yuan.

Saving ten thousand yuan through his current jobs would take almost another year.

That was too long. Han Yang could not wait.

"I have to find a way to make money fast," Han Yang thought. If there's really no other way, I'll have to take a risk.

Han Yang had already quit both jobs. Starting today, he had officially become an unemployed drifter. If he did not quickly find a way to make money, forget buying materials—he would not even have food to eat.

Early the next morning, Han Yang got up, took his pocketknife, mounted the sixth-hand electric scooter he had bought with his savings, and headed straight for a general store.

"Boss, do you have temporary tattoos? Dragons, tigers, that kind of thing. Yeah, these ones. Give me two."

"How much are these sunglasses? And this chain?"

Before Han Yang was a large iron tray piled with glittering gold-colored chains as thick as little fingers. They felt remarkably heavy in the hand.

If they had really been gold chains, they would probably have cost several million yuan.

The owner glanced at the chains and spat out two words. "Twenty yuan."

"One chain, two temporary tattoos, and a pair of sunglasses. That's fifty-six... Boss, cut me a deal. Round it down to fifty, okay?"

No matter how much he pleaded and bargained, he could not get the price below fifty-three yuan. Han Yang could only pay the fifty-three yuan with his heart bleeding.

At that moment, Han Yang had 560 yuan left in his mobile banking account.

With all the items in hand, Han Yang hurried home. Carefully looking in the mirror, he applied the temporary tattoos, put on the sunglasses and gold chain, and vaguely took on the air of a hoodlum.

It was just that his clothes were rather old, making him look a little less convincing.

With no other choice, Han Yang went to a clothing shop, picked out two wild, flashy outfits, and brought them home for sixty-eight yuan.

After changing into them, slipping on a pair of slippers, and wetting his hair, he really did look much more like a hoodlum.

By the afternoon, the temporary tattoos had mostly set. Only then did Han Yang leave on foot and head west toward the Vegetable Market District.

He had not ridden his electric scooter. It was too beneath his image.

As he passed Shen the Butcher's meat stall, Shen the Butcher gave Han Yang a look of utter surprise, snorted heavily, and went back to chopping meat with his head down. The chopping was much louder than before.

Han Yang ignored him and headed straight for the Black Three Casino several kilometers away.

He first found a little food stall outside the casino and casually filled his stomach, then put on an imposing air and entered the casino.

Though it was only afternoon, the casino was already packed. Hoodlums, punks, neighborhood bosses, hopeless gamblers, workers, and all sorts of people were mixed together, while every card table buzzed with noise. The stench of smoke, alcohol, and sweat hit Han Yang head-on and made him dizzy.

Han Yang exchanged 400 yuan for chips and began looking for a target.

Han Yang had never believed in luck, so he immediately ruled out games that relied purely on chance.

The only things he could rely on now were the memory and calculating ability that had become far beyond ordinary after merging with the abacus. With those two advantages, Han Yang was confident he could win money at games requiring a certain degree of skill.

After observing for a while, Han Yang chose a Fight the Landlord table.

His earlier observation had confirmed that there were no tricks such as secret collusion at this table. They were all individual players joining a shared table. Once one gambler left, Han Yang sat down without hesitation.

The moment he received his cards, Han Yang immediately memorized the cards he did not hold.

After several rounds, eighteen cards had appeared on the table. The landlord had played eight, the opposing farmer had played five, and Han Yang himself had played five.

Han Yang remembered exactly who had played which cards. Combining that with the cards in his own hand, he immediately worked out the landlord's remaining hand.

"The landlord played an eight-to-ace straight and a pair of sevens. I have three kings but no ace, so the last king is in the other farmer's hand. But he didn't play any single cards earlier, so he definitely has a straight too. I also have a seven, so the straight in his hand runs from seven to king. His remaining cards are a triple with a pair, enough to finish his hand. The landlord has no bomb, but I do..."

"Bomb!"

Having calculated the hands, Han Yang immediately played a bomb to crush the landlord's cards. Then he broke up his own straight and deliberately put together a seven-card straight.

The other farmer gave Han Yang a startled look, then played his own seven-card straight in delight, took control of the round, and immediately followed with a triple with a pair to empty his hand.

That round ended with the two farmers winning and the landlord losing.

The landlord threw down his cards unwillingly, then dealt another round and kept playing.

In the next round, Han Yang merely swept his eyes over his cards. Abacus beads clattered in his mind as he instantly calculated everything clearly. I should call landlord this round. My win rate is 72%. I can do this.

With Han Yang's extraordinary memory and calculating ability, he won far more often than he lost at the Fight the Landlord table, taking more than two thousand yuan in just three hours.

Afterward, Han Yang switched tables and went to a Texas Hold'em table. Following another round of meticulous calculations, he won another two thousand-plus yuan, bringing his total to over five thousand.

A win or loss of five thousand yuan was not much at this gambling den, so no one had noticed him yet. Still, Han Yang carefully controlled his play, deliberately losing over a thousand yuan and keeping his final profit to four thousand. Only then did he pretend his luck had turned bad, curse, cash out his chips, and leave.

The next day, Han Yang went to a different gambling den and repeated the same method.

On the third day, Han Yang went to an even more distant gambling den and did the same thing again. That day, he won more than seven thousand yuan at his peak, then deliberately lost three thousand.

By then, the money in Han Yang's hands had surged to more than thirteen thousand yuan.

Time to stop. If I keep this up, someone will definitely notice me. It'll be a disaster if I get shot in the dark.

"Damn it, my luck is awful!"

Despite holding a big joker, Han Yang decisively folded. He readily slapped two hundred yuan worth of chips onto the table, cursed as he got up, and left the table, no different from any other gambler who had lost money.

After exchanging his chips for cash, Han Yang staggered out of the gambling den and started walking home.

"Thirteen thousand. That's enough for materials and living expenses for a while. Hm? No, wait."

Out of the corner of his eye, Han Yang noticed a skinny, dark-skinned fellow skulking behind him, seemingly following him.

Damn, seriously? I only won thirteen thousand total from three gambling dens, and I've already been marked?

Cursing inwardly, Han Yang quickened his pace and deliberately threaded through crowded places. While buying clothes, he threw away his original outfit, sunglasses, and gold chain, changed into long sleeves and pants to cover the temporary tattoos, then slipped out quietly through the back door.

After taking a huge detour and confirming that he had shaken off his tail, Han Yang finally returned home.

"Whew... I finally have money."

Han Yang did not hesitate. He immediately opened an online shopping site and began purchasing the necessary materials.