Step outside, you enter the world

On the day I was mercilessly driven out of my uncle's doorstep, I first bowed to my aunt, paying homage for her years of selfless guardianship. And then, with unwavering determination, I warned my uncle that if he dared to lay another hand on my aunt, I would not hesitate to extinguish his existence.

My name is Chu Liu, and since the moment of my birth, my parents entrusted me to the embrace of my aunt's humble abode.

In the beginning, my uncle showered me with affection, but it was not due to a genuine fondness for my presence. It was merely a consequence of my parents sporadically sending him money as a token of gratitude for my aunt's care.

The amount was substantial, to the extent that each time my uncle drowned himself in the intoxication of spirits, he would blissfully exclaim, his eyes glazed, that I was his golden goose.

In my tender naivety, I remained unaware of my parents' occupation, their concealed endeavors. However, on a scorching summer day when I reached the age of six, my father returned. Yet, his homecoming was not of his own accord; he was carried back, lifeless and disfigured.

Upon the stretcher, my father's limbs were tragically absent, severed from his body. His entire being was enveloped in bandages, once white but now stained scarlet with the evidence of his suffering.

In those fleeting moments before he slipped away, my father bestowed upon me his final wisdom: "Lead a simple life, my child. Embrace ordinariness, and forever shun the treacherous allure of gambling."

That day, my tears flowed relentlessly, as if a torrential river unleashed its sorrow.

And from that day forth, the light of laughter seemed to have permanently vacated my existence.

With my father's departure, my mother vanished, leaving only an absence in her wake.

Devoid of the lifeline of funds from my parents, my uncle's benevolence morphed into cruelty. From the initial barrage of verbal assaults to the subsequent onslaught of physical torment, his wrath knew no bounds.

And even my cousin, Li Dabiao, five years my senior, willingly participated in this grotesque dance of abuse.

I can still vividly recall the tally of their transgressions over the years: 2,436 slaps seared across my face, 3,487 kicks mercilessly targeting my fragile frame, and 2,329 punches that left my spirit battered and bruised.

The combined tally of whip lashes and beatings with sticks amounted to 336 times.

If it weren't for my aunt's protection, I reckon they would have beaten me to death a long time ago.

I despised them, and I held grudges.

Otherwise, I wouldn't remember every detail so vividly.

Back then, I didn't know how to fight or dare to strike back, but I learned how to endure the beatings.

On the day I was kicked out of my own home, I wasn't left without a place to go; instead, I followed Uncle Li.

"Uncle Li" isn't his real name; he never disclosed it to me.

I started calling him Uncle Li because he learned that my name was Chu Liu and allowed me to address him that way.

He arrived in our small town a year after my father's demise.

When I met him, he claimed to be the world's greatest magician.

Moreover, he was willing to pass on all his magic tricks to me. Truly, his magic was awe-inspiring.

Playing cards, mahjong, dice, and pai gow—under his skillful hands, they danced and vanished, sometimes abundant, sometimes scarce, with an air of mystique.

And so, at the tender age of seven, I began learning his so-called "magic."

Uncle Li was an incredibly free-spirited individual.

Apart from supervising my daily practice of "magic," he spent his days drinking and carousing, as well as pursuing women.

He seemed to possess an extraordinary infatuation with the opposite sex.

Even in his sixties, he reveled night after night.

Uncle Li even arranged encounters with women for me.

They were young, around eighteen or nineteen years old.

Their plump faces adorned with layers of rouge and powder.

When one of them approached me with a professional smile, seductively playing with her hair, and removed the first article of clothing.

I simply uttered one word to her: "Leave."

It wasn't that I disliked women, but rather, I detested that type of woman.

My woman had to be gentle, obedient, and loyal. She had to rely on me and treat me as her king.

Just like the "King" in a deck of cards.

However, later on, one day, after a woman lay breathless in my arms, sweaty and content, she confided in me.

The "King" in a deck of cards actually represents the "Joker."

On my twentieth birthday, Uncle Li took me to the renowned Drunk Xiang Pavilion.

It was the finest restaurant in our town.

In an elegantly adorned private room, Uncle Li smoked his exquisite golden sandalwood pipe. With his silver hair, he exuded an air of carefree nonchalance.

"Pour the wine..."

The blue-and-white porcelain bottle contained thirty-year-aged Zhuyeqing tea wine.

As the wine poured into the celadon-glazed bowl, its aroma filled the air, swirling and lingering.

"Xiao Liu, how long have you been by my side?"

Uncle Li took a puff of his pipe, exhaling a cloud of smoke, and posed the question.

"Thirteen years, two months, and twenty-two days!"

"What have I taught you?"

"Magic!"

"What does magic mean?"

"The art of creating illusions and accomplishing the seemingly impossible!"

Uncle Li nodded with satisfaction.

Tapping his pipe, Uncle Li lifted the bowl and said to me

"After drinking this bowl of wine, you will graduate as a master! From now on, you no longer need to follow me..."

I knew that day would come sooner or later.

I just never expected it would happen on my 20th birthday.

Thirty years of bamboo leaf green wine entered my throat, a fiery sensation, from my stomach straight to the top of my head.

Setting down the wine bowl, Uncle Liu spoke again:

"Chu Liu, you gotta remember. What you've learned is the art of deception, what you've entered is a secret society, and what you're walking is the Blue Path. From now on, you ain't just an ordinary person no more. You're a Blue Path hustler!"

The so-called Blue Path refers to all the gambling cheats.

As long as you're into gambling, the path you tread is the Blue Path.

Thinking about my father's dying wish, he asked me to live as an ordinary person and never get involved in gambling.

But who would've thought, over a decade has passed,

and here I am, a Blue Path hustler.

Guess that's just how life goes, playing tricks on you.

"Chu Liu, let me ask you again, do you wanna be the boss or the lackey?"

"I wanna be the boss!"

Ain't nobody in this world willingly gonna be a lackey.

"Alright, since you wanna be the boss. I want you to take all that you've learned over the past decade or so and make sure that within three years, every Blue Path disciple knows about Uncle Liu, the Junior Sixth!"

Three years?

Can I do it?

I'm feeling kinda lost.

Even though I've accompanied Uncle Liu to countless gambling joints, big and small,

I've never played myself.

I have no clue how skilled I am in the art of deception.

But still, I nod and make the promise.

Uncle Liu once told me, being a hustler ain't just about the technique, it's about the mindset.

Can you unleash everything you've learned in front of a crowd, that's what truly matters.

"Alright, from now on, you'll be navigating the underworld of the Blue Path all by yourself!"

Uncle Liu's tone is laid-back.

But in his eyes, I catch a glimpse of reluctance.

"The underworld? Where's that?"

I look outside the window, bewildered, and ask softly.

"The moment you step out the door, that's the underworld!"