Wu Dahai ran both hands through his broom cut with supreme confidence, swaggering toward the slot machine with the gait of a man making a grand entrance.
"Ten coins each, ten points. Five minutes play time. Old Huang, you time it. Down to the second."
"Fine." Officer Huang produced his phone, opening the stopwatch.
"Simple rules. Highest score in five minutes wins." Wu Dahai turned to Gao Yang. "Anything unclear?"
"No."
"Good! I'll go first!" Wu Dahai seated himself before the machine, efficiently feeding in his ten coins.
Gao Yang watched from behind, activating childhood memories of observing others play slots, refreshing his recollection.
This was the most common street model: eight possible awards. Apple (5x multiplier), Orange (10x), Papaya (15x), Bell (20x), Watermelon (20x), Double Star (30x), Double Seven (40x), and BAR (100x). Conversely, hit probability was inversely proportional to the multiplier. The jackpot BAR was rarest—perhaps not appearing once in a hundred spins. Apple, Orange, and Papaya hit more frequently but paid less.
Wu Dahai started with ten points. He spent three: one each on Apple, Orange, and Papaya.
Five seconds later, he hit Apple. Five points gained, total twelve.
Second round: Wu Dahai bet two on Orange, two on Papaya, two on Bell.
Five seconds later, he hit Orange. Twenty points gained, total twenty-six.
...
Through eight or nine rounds, Wu Dahai accumulated over eighty points through his wide-net, small-fish strategy. Several misses occurred, but the overall trend was upward.
Wu Dahai was thoroughly pleased. "Though slots are a face-based game, there are patterns. True randomness is impossible. Hard to articulate, but play ten thousand rounds and you develop fuzzy intuition. Generally, when I predict the next likely award, I hit one in three."
"What do you call this..." Wu Dahai pressed buttons smugly. "Read three hundred Tang deaths, and even if you can't compose death, you can recite death."
"It's poems, not deaths." Gao Yang couldn't resist correcting his pronunciation.
Wu Dahai glared back, his platform disrupted.
"One minute remaining," Officer Huang reminded.
"Plenty!"
Wu Dahai closed his eyes, intoning with theatrical solemnity: "I feel the Double Seven calling me!"
The instant he opened them, he bet twenty on Double Seven.
The reels stopped. Papaya.
The unexpected result didn't shake him. He bet twenty on Double Seven again.
The reels stopped. Watermelon.
Now he held just over forty points. Still no hesitation—twenty more on Double Seven.
The reels stopped. Double Seven!
The entire machine erupted in festive red light, accompanied by manic music and electronic fanfare: "Congratulations! Congratulations! Congratulations!"
Twenty points at forty times multiplier: eight hundred points!
The credit display instantly skyrocketed to eight hundred twenty!
Wu Dahai stood, stretching lazily. Thirty seconds remained, but he intended nothing further.
"Time." Officer Huang announced.
Final score: eight hundred twenty.
One minute later, the machine reset. Gao Yang began his round. He considered briefly, inhaled deeply, and started betting.
Initially, he imitated Wu Dahai's strategy—wide net, small fish, the classic Apple-Papaya-Orange trinity. Like a diligent orchard keeper, he toiled steadily. Three minutes in, he'd accumulated sixty-one points. But the gap to Wu Dahai's eight hundred twenty remained astronomical.
Now came the big bets. But Gao Yang's mind held no pattern. Double Star, Double Seven, and BAR all felt equally unfamiliar.
Finally, he committed. Bet maximum on BAR!
Six attempts, ten points each. One hit meant one thousand points!
Aren't I supposed to be lucky? Maybe it'll actually happen!
Gao Yang bet ten on BAR.
Behind him, Wu Dahai's mocking laughter rang out: "Brother, that's a cornered dog jumping the wall! How many rounds have you played, thinking you can pull BAR? I often play all night without seeing one!"
"Beep-beep-beep-beep-beep—ding!" The reels stopped. Miss.
Gao Yang bet ten again.
Five seconds. Miss.
...
Soon, only one chance remained. A thought stirred. He slammed the button with full force!
"Beep-beep-beep-beep-beep-beep-beep-beep—" Gao Yang sensed possibility. This time, the reels seemed to spin two full seconds longer than before.
"Ding!"
Miss. Nowhere near BAR.
"Hahahahaha missed... you lose!" Wu Dahai's schadenfreude filled the room: "Brother, you're ten thousand years too early to beat me at slots! Other games, practice properly and you might have a chance. Come back next month."
Gao Yang stared at his score: one.
Not time to surrender yet.
"How long?" He turned to Officer Huang.
Officer Huang checked his phone. "Thirty seconds... twenty-nine..."
Gao Yang's eyes swept the machine's buttons, locking onto the two for Big/Small.
Screw it!
Gao Yang closed his eyes and hammered the "Big" button ten consecutive times!
"Thump-thump-thump-thump..." The credits leaped from one to two, two to four, four to eight, eight to sixteen... suddenly jumping to six hundred twenty-four!
The entire process: under ten seconds.
Wu Dahai was dumbfounded. Slot players rarely touched Big/Small. One correct guess doubled your score; one wrong guess zeroed it.
This option seemed tempting, but play it and you'd absolutely lose—especially with high credits. Whatever you chose, the machine would likely "swallow" your score.
This Gao Yang had bet Big ten consecutive times—and won every single one! What probability was this? With this luck, he should buy lottery tickets!
Officer Huang watched with his heart in his throat. "Eight seconds remaining."
Gao Yang was equally shocked. Was this his Luck talent manifesting? No matter—once more!
Gao Yang forced his trembling arm to steady, slamming "Big" again!
"Thump!" Six hundred twenty-four became one thousand two hundred forty-eight!
Win!
"Time!"
Wu Dahai stared blankly. In a lifetime of slots, he'd never witnessed such play. Was the machine broken? He stepped forward, pressed "Big" once.
"Thump!" Instantly, zero.
Wu Dahai was convinced. Today he'd witnessed true "Emperor of Europe" luck.
"You win. Test passed." Wu Dahai said.
"Not easy," Officer Huang was overjoyed. "Half a year. Finally I can join the organization."
"Wait wait! Don't misunderstand—this was only the organization's first test." Wu Dahai said. "There's a second."
"What?" Officer Huang was surprised: "There's more?"
Gao Yang wasn't surprised in the least. What organization would recruit Awakened based on gaming ability? This wasn't recruiting esports professionals.
"Old Huang, you didn't seriously think winning a game got you into the organization? First test was just warming up. Now comes the real evaluation."
Wu Dahai snapped his fingers. Instantly, every cabinet in the arcade shut down. The ceiling fan stopped.
Gao Yang and Officer Huang stood in darkness, exchanging glances, silent.
This Wu Dahai was indeed more than he appeared—likely possessing an Electricity-element talent. In any game or film, those who wielded "electricity" possessed high combat power.
Truly a big shot, playing deep concealment and tiger-disguised-as-pig with these rookies. Had he truly contested Qing Ling earlier, she might not have been his match.
"Let's talk outside." Wu Dahai stuck his hands in his pockets, sauntering out of the arcade.
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