The weather was so scorching hot that after only half a campus tour, the two girls hurried back to their dorm room.

Though a ceiling fan whirred above, its breeze was weak. To cool down better, Xia Ziying tugged her shirt’s round collar forward and fanned air inside. After just a few swipes, she froze. “Xuehan? Why are you bleeding from the nose?”

“White… uh, it’s just the heat. Probably got overheated,” Jiang Xuehan mumbled, quickly wiping her nostrils with tissue.

“Guess you’re even more heat-sensitive than me… They say this week will stay blazing. I really wish autumn would hurry up.”

“Mhm…”

Jiang Xuehan nodded absently, her big eyes darting nonstop at the outline of her pretty roommate’s bra beneath the shirt. Suddenly, she chirped, “Ziying, wanna play a game?”

“A game? What kind? I barely play any.”

“Well, the simplest one—Old Maid. Loser answers a question or does a dare. Deal?”

If a guy suggested this to a girl, it’d clearly be sketchy.

But Jiang Xuehan was a genuine girl—she’d had her period three times already—and her innocent, delicate face put Xia Ziying at ease. “Sure! I’m bored anyway.”

And so, Jiang Xuehan unveiled her gaming genius for the first time at Donghai University.

——————————————————————————————

Old Maid is a classic card game born in 18th-century Britain. Back then, sailors played it to kill time on long voyages, betting drinks on wins. Ships spread it worldwide, and today, “World Old Maid Championships” still happen yearly.

It works for two or more players. For two, each holds half a deck. Players take turns drawing a card from the other’s hand. Matching pairs get discarded. The first to empty their hand wins.

Since cards have four suits, almost all form pairs and vanish. Except one: the Joker.

The Joker is poker’s fifty-third card—the loneliest, quirkiest little ghost. In Old Maid, whoever ends up holding it loses.

To speed things up, Jiang Xuehan picked 20 paired cards plus the Joker—21 total. She showed them clearly to Xia Ziying, shuffled, and dealt. Luckily, senior students had left a short square table perfect for playing.

After drawing, they tossed pre-matched pairs onto the table. Jiang Xuehan held five cards; Xia Ziying had four. So Xia Ziying drew first.

Her fingers danced playfully over Jiang Xuehan’s fan of cards, testing reactions, then snatched the rightmost one. She sighed in relief, discarding a pair. “Hehe, the Joker’s still yours!”

Jiang Xuehan didn’t waste words. She drew a card from Xia Ziying and slammed down a pair.

After two rounds, Xia Ziying held one card; Jiang Xuehan had two—including the Joker. If Xia Ziying didn’t draw the Joker now, she’d discard her last card and win.

Xia Ziying savored the game, not rushing. A slender finger hopped between Jiang Xuehan’s two cards. “Hmm… which is the Joker? Which isn’t?”

“Guess yourself. I won’t tell.”

“Then I’ll guess! Pine-apple-pine-apple-magic! This one!”

Xia Ziying plucked the right card, cheered at the face, and jumped. “Yes! I win!”

Jiang Xuehan grudgingly tossed the Joker. “Hmph. Lucky you. I pick truth.”

“Truth… let me think…” Xia Ziying tapped her chin, pondering. An idea sparked. “Tell me the name of the boy you had a crush on in high school!”

“None.” Jiang Xuehan answered instantly, not blinking.

“Huh? Really?”

“Really. I’ve never liked any guy.”

“Well… you’re such a late bloomer.”

Jiang Xuehan wasn’t lying. In high school, she’d never crushed on boys—but she had on a girl. Her freshman seatmate, the adorable Cheng Yaqin.

Sadly, Meng Han had buried that crush deep inside until dropping out. Over a year had passed. Cheng Yaqin was probably a college freshman now. Was she doing okay?

Slightly disappointed but convinced Jiang Xuehan wasn’t fibbing, Xia Ziying happily started the next round.

She won again. “Xuehan, truth or dare?”

“Truth.”

“Ugh, truth again? Fine… your height, weight, and bust-waist-hip measurements.”

“160 cm, 42.5 kg, 70A-52-73.” Jiang Xuehan rattled off the numbers.

“Wow, so slim! How do you stay that way?”

“Eat more, move less.”

“You’re messing with me…”

Third round: Xia Ziying won. Jiang Xuehan immediately chose truth. Xia Ziying pouted. “Why always truth? Switch it up!”

“I prefer honesty.”

“Nope! Next loser only does dares!”

“Uh… okay…” Jiang Xuehan agreed reluctantly.

After answering “ideal boyfriend standards,” the fourth round began. Xia Ziying didn’t notice the sharp glint flashing in Jiang Xuehan’s eyes.

Naive college girls never questioned why she’d lost three 50-50 games straight.

Because Jiang Xuehan let her win.

Her secret? Magician-level hand speed.

Magicians rely on lightning-fast moves, swapping props in split seconds while audiences look away—like pulling pigeons from sleeves. Slow hands ruin the trick.

Talent matters, but relentless practice builds true skill. Every great magician sweats buckets behind the scenes.

In Old Maid, the real battle starts when one player holds one card and the other holds two. Earlier rounds don’t matter.

If Jiang Xuehan held the Joker, she’d watch Xia Ziying’s draw. If it targeted a normal card, she’d do nothing. If it aimed for the Joker, she’d swap it with a normal card in a blur, letting Xia Ziying win.

But what if Xia Ziying held the Joker?

No problem. Jiang Xuehan read pupils.

When nervous, human pupils contract slightly—an instinct wired deep in our genes, beyond conscious control. That’s why gamblers wear sunglasses: not for coolness, but to hide their eyes.

This micro-change lasts a split second. Only sharp, experienced observers catch it.

But Jiang Xuehan, a gaming god, noticed pixel shifts on screens. Reading pupils? Child’s play.

A few finger flicks revealed the Joker’s position in Xia Ziying’s hand. Jiang Xuehan would “accidentally” draw it, then swap cards during Xia Ziying’s turn.

Old Maid seemed luck-based. For Jiang Xuehan, luck didn’t exist. She controlled every win and loss.

Unaware, Xia Ziying shuffled the cards and urged, “Xuehan, draw! I’m aiming for four wins!”

Jiang Xuehan didn’t reply. Her lips curled slightly upward.

*Heh heh, Ziying… your chest is already mine.*