At the end of the stairs lay a vast underground casino.
Scanning the area, rows of identical-looking gambling machines lined the walls, their screens flashing with unknown content.
Almost all the casino’s tables and chairs had been cleared away, leaving only a single long table in the center.
The Earth Goat slowly walked to the middle of the room and stood before the table, speaking in a calm tone: “Please gather around and stand properly.”
The crowd hesitantly approached the table, the atmosphere thick with tension.
“Now, I will explain the rules,” the Earth Goat said, sweeping his gaze over the group. “My game is called **’Four Emotions Fan’**, and it’s extremely simple.”
Qi Xia nearly laughed out loud.
Fifty participants—and an *extremely simple* deception game?
The Earth Goat pulled out a large duffel bag from under the table, bulging with items.
He tossed it onto the table, and when the crowd looked inside, they saw nothing but neatly folded paper fans.
He took out four of them, unfurling each in front of the group one by one.
The four fans bore the characters **”Joy,” “Anger,” “Sorrow,”** and **”Pleasure”** in standard script.
“These are the **’Four Emotions Fans’,**” the Earth Goat declared. “My bag contains an equal number of each type. At the start of the game, each of you will randomly receive three fans—their contents also randomized. The winning condition is equally straightforward…”
Holding a fan, he walked over to one of the gambling machines by the wall, the crowd trailing behind.
“This machine is called the **’Matching Device’.**”
Everyone examined it—the device had two buttons on either side and four slots in the center.
“To **’match’**, you must find a partner. Both of you must press the buttons on your respective sides to **’initiate pairing’**.” The Earth Goat pressed the right button.
The screen lit up with his photo, accompanied by three smiling emoticons and the text: **”Waiting for partner…”**
“These three smiles represent my remaining matching attempts. Now then…” His eyes settled on a tall woman in the crowd. “You there—come demonstrate with me.”
She nodded and stepped forward.
“Press the opposite button,” he instructed.
Hesitantly, she reached out and pressed it. The screen updated with her photo.
The text now read: **”Pairing initiated.”**
The Earth Goat handed her two fans. “**’Matching’** means each of you inserts two fans into the slots. If you can collectively provide all four emotions—**Joy, Anger, Sorrow, Pleasure**—you both win and may leave.”
He inserted two of his fans into the machine’s slots. The woman followed suit, placing her own two inside.
After swallowing the fans, the screen displayed: **”Processing…”**
Moments later, it changed: **”Match successful.”**
The Earth Goat nodded. “Once the game begins, any successful pair may exit immediately.”
Qi Xia frowned.
The rules *were* simple—if you found a trustworthy partner, everyone could leave safely. But if that were the case, where was the deception?
“A word of warning,” the Earth Goat added, scanning the group. “Each of you only has **three matching attempts**, and regardless of success, the fans used will be **consumed**. Fail all three, and you’ll remain here to die. Two hours later, I will **punish** all who stay.”
“Three…?” A square-faced man beside Qi Xia tensed. “We only start with three fans, and each attempt costs two. How can we try three times?!”
“Good question,” the Earth Goat acknowledged. “Thirty minutes in, I will **restock** additional fans. Everyone gets replenishment—once every half hour, totaling three times in two hours.”
“Oh…” The man seemed to grasp it. “So our fans will *increase*?”
“Correct. Any other questions?”
“What about rewards?” Qi Xia asked.
“Rewards…” The Earth Goat eyed him. “All who **escape** must wait upstairs until the game ends. Survivors may exchange **one extra fan for five ‘Dao’**.”
Qi Xia pondered.
If you paired immediately, you’d leave with just one fan—exchanging for five ‘Dao’ would barely cover the entry fee.
To truly **profit**, you needed to amass fans, which meant delaying pairings until near the end.
“So… you’re saying…” A middle-aged woman raised her hand. “If we don’t find a partner, we *die*?!”
“Precisely,” the Earth Goat confirmed. “I offer greater rewards than other **Zodiacs**, so you face greater risks.”
Some paled—this was a blatant gamble with their lives. Yet the rules seemed flexible; you could leave anytime.
Qi Xia remained uneasy.
For a **deception game**, the rules lacked deceit. It felt more like a test of **cooperation**.
“If there are no further questions, the game begins in ten minutes,” the Earth Goat announced. “Line up to draw your initial three fans.”
Qi Xia lingered at the back, observing as others collected their fans and distanced themselves. A few eagerly peeked at their fans—**a mistake**.
Fans were double-sided. Opening them exposed their contents to nearby players.
**Revealing your hand was always dangerous.**
As his turn neared, the square-faced man suddenly cut back into line. “Hey, remember me? We agreed to team up!”
Qi Xia forced a smile, took his three fans, and retreated to a corner.
Back turned, he confirmed no one was watching—then checked his fans.
All three read: **”Sorrow.”**
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