Chapter 640: The Mist Clears

But why?

It should have been straightforward to use wooden panels to make a box, which would have made engraving and gold-leafing on the surface more convenient. However, someone had the unusual idea of hollowing out each side of the box. Now, strictly speaking, it wasn’t really a box anymore, but rather a closed structure formed by assembling six separate small boxes shaped like panels.

Moreover, according to the game’s rules, this wooden box shouldn’t even be involved in the game. Yet it remained on the table—could it possibly serve another purpose?

Before Qi Xia could figure it out, Di Hou had already stood up, snatched the box back, carefully wiped it off, and inspected the corners to ensure there was no damage. Only after confirming its condition did he place it back on the table.

“In the future, if you want to touch my belongings, please ask first,” Di Hou said unhappily. “Even if you want to kill yourself, I’ll hand you a knife myself. Why go through the trouble of using the box?”

Qi Xia stared into his eyes and slowly revealed a sinister smile.

His crimson face, devilish grin, and slightly trembling right hand made him appear eerily demonic, causing Di Hou to instinctively lean back slightly.

“Now I finally feel a bit clearer,” Qi Xia said. “You told us earlier that ‘Frost Descent’ is ‘the 23rd day of the ninth month,’ right?”

“…Yes,” Di Hou replied reluctantly.

After hearing this, Qi Xia nodded. Zheng Yingxiong’s question had pinpointed the key issue, and now he seemed to understand how to play this “Higher or Lower” game.

Some of the fog had cleared, and the hidden knowledge had surfaced.

The twenty-four solar terms weren’t based solely on the solar or lunar calendar, but rather on a combined solar-lunar calendar.

Therefore, whether viewed from the perspective of the solar or lunar calendar, the dates change each year. If one wanted to deduce the numerical values of all the cards based on this, there were currently only two possible methods.

First, knowing the exact year.

Second, knowing the precise date of at least one day.

Traditional festivals were easy to handle, as their lunar calendar dates remained fixed.

For instance, “Qixi” was always the seventh day of the seventh lunar month, “Yuanxiao” the fifteenth day of the first lunar month, “Chongyang” the ninth day of the ninth lunar month, and “Chuxi” the thirtieth day of the twelfth lunar month.

Therefore, if Di Hou wanted to determine the card rankings based on dates, he couldn’t possibly use the solar calendar, which varied each year, because that would make it difficult to convince everyone of the result, and the gambling game would become even more complicated.

Therefore, if this “Higher or Lower” game truly relied on dates, it would inevitably use the relatively fixed lunar calendar.

The key issue now was the dates of the solar terms.

Fortunately, Di Hou had already revealed the most critical clue—the date of “Frost Descent” was the 23rd day of the ninth lunar month.

Thus, it was no longer necessary to know the exact year. Even if this year was fictional, one could simply reverse-calculate based on the information Di Hou had provided.

Because all the information would become crystal clear. Each solar term was fifteen days apart, meaning all twenty-four solar terms of this year were now known. At this moment, each card on the table transformed into a set of numbers in Qi Xia’s eyes.

He looked at his own card, “the seventh day of the seventh lunar month,” then at the card on the table, “the fifteenth day of the seventh lunar month,” and finally at Di Hou’s card, “the twenty-first day of the fifth lunar month.”

As soon as this round ended and Di Hou announced whose card was the highest, the entire rule set of the game would become clear.

Qi Xia wiped the blood off the right side of his face and then lifted his head to say, “Di Hou, can we continue now?”

Di Hou noticed that the man’s gaze was completely different from when he had first entered the room, but he couldn’t pinpoint exactly what had changed.

“Spring rain stirs spring, clear and bright skies follow; summer fills, Mang (Awakening of Insects), summer, heat connects; autumn settles, dew falls, coldness comes with frost descent; winter snows, snows again, minor and major cold.” Relying on his clarity of mind, Qi Xia quickly retrieved the long-forgotten knowledge from his memory. “In the first half of the year, it’s the sixth and twenty-first; in the second half, the eighth and twenty-third. ‘End of Heat’ and ‘Frost Descent’ are sixty days apart, so ‘End of Heat’ falls on the twenty-third day of the seventh month.”

All the dates in the first half of the year were the sixth and twenty-first, while those in the second half were the eighth and twenty-third. Combined with the solar calendar months, these were the dates that would be used in this game.

At last, Qi Xia understood the meaning behind Di Hou’s words before the gambling match began.

He had said that over the years, those who came to gamble either had gambling skills but no knowledge, or had knowledge but no courage, so no one had ever been able to play a game with him.

Indeed, this deck of cards required far too much. Gambling skills alone were far from enough.

After all, each card only had two Chinese characters, yet one had to determine their rankings based on these. Without sufficient knowledge, one would be stuck at this very first step.

Moreover, the one thing Qi Xia still couldn’t figure out was the term “Lunation.”

If he wasn’t mistaken, a lunation was also known as a synodic month, representing the cycle of lunar phases—the waxing and waning of the moon. So how was that related to this game?

If he had to explain it, the sun was “Yang,” and the moon was “Yin.” When the ancients created the lunar calendar, they referenced the waxing and waning of the moon.

“So it really is the lunar calendar…”

The ancients saw the moon’s transition from full brightness to complete darkness as a “reverse” process; therefore, they took the original form of the character for “reverse,” 屰 (niè), combined it with 月 (moon), and created the character 朔 (shuò).

When the moon was at its fullest and brightest, clearly visible to the eye when one looked up at the sky, the ancients referred to it as “Full Moon,” or 望 (wàng). As explained in the ancient text Shi Ming (Explaining Names): “Wàng is the name given to the full moon.”

Therefore, a “lunation” referred to the time it took for the moon to go from one new moon to the next new moon, or from one full moon to the next full moon—a cycle of about thirty days.

Because it was determined by the waxing and waning of the moon, this thirty-day cycle was called a “month.”

And the calendar system based on lunar phases was considered Yin, hence it was called the “lunar calendar.”

“In other words, from the very name of this game, the method of determining ‘Higher or Lower’ has already been revealed to us…”

Qi Xia narrowed his eyes slightly, feeling that he could now temporarily control his previously chaotic mind.

He looked at the cards on the table. This deck contained only about thirty cards, each with two characters—no more than sixty characters in total.

Yet, when one truly began to study it, it was far more complex than Western-imported playing cards or tarot cards. If this game weren’t called “Lunation” but instead “Solar Calendar,” the gameplay would be completely different.

Qi Xia marveled at how Di Hou, as the representative of “intelligence,” truly lived up to his reputation. Moreover, the short, fat Di Hou before him must possess even greater abilities. If he could be recruited, he would be of great use. However, the smarter a person was, the harder they were to control.

Focusing his attention back on the current game, Qi Xia knew that as long as Di Hou announced the highest card when the final cards were revealed, he would be able to deduce the rules of this round accordingly.

The plan was going more smoothly than he had imagined. This time, he was truly grateful for Zheng Yingxiong’s help.

After everyone had placed their “secret” bets, Di Hou once again spoke up: “Does anyone else want to place a bet?”

No one knew the rules, so naturally no one dared to gamble recklessly and shook their heads.

But Di Hou slowly raised the corners of his mouth and looked directly at Qi Xia.

“What’s wrong?” Qi Xia asked.

“I’m raising the stakes,” Di Hou said.