Anchor Hall
Chapter 531: Pavlov’s Dog
…Wu Zhu?
How could it be?
Wen Jianyan’s gaze fell upon that familiar face, his mind going completely blank.
“You bastard…” The anchor who had staggered and fallen was now pushing himself up from the floor. He clutched his mouth and nose, clearly having taken a heavy fall. Blood seeped from between his fingers, dripping down to be instantly absorbed by the carpet. His face, which could have been considered handsome, was now twisted and terrifying. “I see you’re choosing the hard way—”
Wen Jianyan’s gaze flickered to the man’s feet, and his heart skipped a beat.
On the floor, in a corner no one else could see, a terrifying shadow writhed like a predatory snake, poised to clamp its jaws around his throat in the next second!
“…!”
Action came faster than thought.
The young man suddenly raised his hand, snatching a silver tray from the arm of a nearby waiter. With a whistling sound, the tray was swung ruthlessly, slamming hard against the other man’s head!
The move was vicious, clean, and decisive, without a hint of hesitation.
“Oof—!?” The man hadn’t expected Wen Jianyan’s sudden attack. He staggered back under the force, stumbling away.
On the floor, the snake-like shadow snapped at empty air.
The assailant nonchalantly released his grip, and the now-bent silver tray clattered to the ground.
“Didn’t you understand?”
He looked down at the man, his moist eyes narrowed, but the smile on his lips was chilling.
“…Learn to take ‘no’ for an answer.”
In the “Integrity First” livestream room:
[Holy shit, that was awesome!]
[So satisfying!]
[Hahahahaha, the moment I’ve been waiting for! I’ve been wanting to see this guy get beaten up since the beginning, hehe.]
[Ahhhh, that was so gratifying, the anchor is so damn hot!]
The commotion attracted the attention of many, and several waiters in security uniforms began to approach.
On the Lucky Cruise Ship, fights like this were not permitted.
It was fine if you weren’t caught, but once discovered, the punishment was severe.
“Hey, hey, you’re just in time,” the anchor said as he staggered to his feet, clutching his swollen face. He reached out to the approaching security, his bloody face a mixture of pain, malice, and the thrill of vengeance. “That’s right, it was him—”
But to his surprise, the security guards didn’t stop beside him. They walked straight past him and stood before Wen Jianyan.
He bowed slightly.
“Good evening, esteemed first-class guest. We sincerely apologize for this disturbance to your evening.”
“…”
The anchor’s hand froze in mid-air, the vicious expression stuck on his face, looking utterly ridiculous. He turned his head stiffly, staring at Wen Jianyan as if he’d seen a ghost, a trace of imperceptible panic and fear showing on his swollen, battered face.
Wh-what?
First-class?
“Is there anything you require us to do?” the guard asked politely.
“No need.”
Wen Jianyan waved his hand dismissively.
He looked at the other man and said pointedly, “I think he knows what he did wrong now, doesn’t he?”
Staring blankly at the scene unfolding before him, the anchor’s face was a chaotic palette of colors—on the cruise ship, each step up in ticket class cost a hundred times more points than the last.
Once on board, ticket class was everything.
Unlike the real world, there was no “law” or “morality” here.
This meant that, within the rules, the ship’s staff would unconditionally and shamelessly favor guests with higher-class tickets.
No, it wasn’t just that.
Because the price of a first-class ticket was so exorbitant, there were very few guests who could afford one.
And an anchor with that kind of spending power… was at least a high-level, or even a top-tier one!
He was an existence that the man could never afford to offend.
“…Yes, yes, I was wrong.”
The anchor forced a smile that was uglier than a grimace. “I beg you, sir, be the bigger person and please forgive me.”
Wen Jianyan turned back to the security guard with a perfect smile.
“See?”
“Alright, take him for treatment,” he said, waving his hand nonchalantly as his gaze drifted away. “Put the points on my tab.”
“Yes, sir.” The guard bowed deeply again.
He bent down and helped the anchor up from the floor. The man, seemingly having lost all his fight, stumbled away with the guard’s support.
“…” The waiter with the high ponytail and golden eyes stood to the side, not having said a word the entire time. He watched the anchor’s retreating back, a flicker of regret on his face.
What a pity.
Only after the man was out of sight did Wen Jianyan let out a long breath.
…That was close.
Just a little longer, and that guy would have been killed.
He truly disliked people like that, but in any case, the man’s actions didn’t warrant death. Although he had struck him hard, at least the man’s life was saved.
One problem solved.
One more remained.
“Hey, I’m drunk,” Wen Jianyan said, taking a deep breath. He lifted his heavy eyelids, his face flushed and his eyes glazed, and looked at the “waiter” beside him.
The other man turned to look at him.
“You, yes, you.”
Wen Jianyan’s tone was dismissive and distant, but his grip on the other’s arm was tight, his fingertips digging into the fabric.
He took another deep breath and, with a smile, commanded through gritted teeth:
“You will escort me to my room to rest.”
The black-haired, golden-eyed waiter smiled faintly. Mimicking the earlier security guard’s tone, he bowed slightly and placed a hand on the guest’s waist to support him.
“Yes, esteemed guest.”
The casino had private lounges, open only to first-class guests.
The moment he entered the room, Wen Jianyan immediately shut down his livestream.
The “Integrity First” livestream chat exploded into a chorus of wails:
[Hey—why’d you turn it off?]
[Ahhh, I haven’t had enough! We finally got the anchor to drink one of the strongest alcohols, but we don’t even get to see him drunk. It’s so unfair!]
[Aaaah, turn it back on, I’m going to die without my reality show!!]
[Speaking of which, did anyone notice that the waiter who helped the anchor into the room was pretty handsome?]
[I think so too…]
[Is it just me, or was the way he looked at the anchor a little… improper?]
[Definitely, definitely, I thought I was the only one who noticed!]
Wen Jianyan leaned against the door, the dazed, drunken look on his face completely gone. He pressed his ear to the door, listening cautiously for any sounds outside. After confirming that no one had followed them, he let out a long, slow breath and relaxed.
He turned to look into the room.
The tall waiter stood in the center, tilting his head with interest as he examined a painting on the wall. His long black hair was tied high on his head, and the neat, crisp waiter’s uniform perfectly accentuated his shoulders and waist.
“…Wu Zhu.”
Wen Jianyan gritted his teeth.
“Hm?”
The other man turned, letting out a single, questioning sound.
“What are you doing here?” Wen Jianyan strode forward, grabbing the man’s collar and forcing him to bend down. “Did you not hear a word I said last night?!”
“I heard.”
Wu Zhu allowed him to tug on his collar, even cooperating by bending over, a slight smile playing on his lips.
“You told me to do whatever I wanted.”
“…!”
Wen Jianyan’s fingers tightened abruptly, crinkling the collar.
That’s the only part you fucking heard?!
“—”
Calm down. Calm down.
Wen Jianyan took a deep breath and closed his eyes.
Don’t get angry. Don’t get angry.
His face was flushed from the intense emotion, his warm, wine-scented breath hung in the air between them, his eyelashes trembled violently, and his lips were pressed into a tight, straight line as if he were forcefully suppressing his rage.
Wu Zhu watched his face up close, inhaling his scent, and his previously gloomy mood began to lift bit by bit.
“Relax,” he said with a chuckle. “As long as I’m not on camera for more than ten minutes, no one will be aware of my existence—not Nightmare, and not those things on the other side of the screen.”
“?” Wen Jianyan opened his eyes. “What do you mean?”
“It means that although they can see my face,” Wu Zhu gently took hold of the hand gripping his collar. Wen Jianyan flinched back as if burned by his touch and quickly let go.
Though disappointed, Wu Zhu continued, “—they won’t be able to connect me with the ‘me’ you’ve met before.”
In a way… he was blurring his own existence.
“Of course, doing this is a bit risky.”
Recently, Nightmare’s pursuit and attempts to kill him had reached a pathological level. Forcibly interfering with the consciousness of Nightmare and the audience for ten minutes under the camera’s watch—that was already Wu Zhu’s limit.
Wu Zhu straightened his wrinkled collar and said slowly, “But I do have business to attend to.”
Wen Jianyan was taken aback. “What?”
“There’s something below.”
Wu Zhu lowered his eyes and pointed at the floor.
Below?
Wen Jianyan paused, almost immediately understanding what Wu Zhu meant.
The cruise ship’s underground level.
“Wait, you mean there’s something you want in the underground level?” Wen Jianyan narrowed his eyes, the alcohol not dulling his sharpness. “Is it one of your fragments?”
Unexpectedly, Wu Zhu shook his head. “No.”
“Then what is it?” Wen Jianyan asked, surprised.
“I’m not sure either,” Wu Zhu said, his eyes fixed on the floorboards. “It’s too far away. I can’t tell what it is exactly.”
Hearing Wu Zhu’s answer, Wen Jianyan fell into deep thought.
The ship’s underground level was very special. It had clearly existed from the start, but only those who met certain conditions could perceive it. In a way, this was similar to Wu Zhu’s current method of obscuring his own existence on a conceptual level to avoid detection. Although Wen Jianyan had been on the ship before, he hadn’t possessed an invitation letter, so Wu Zhu, who had left a mark on him, hadn’t sensed anything in the lower levels.
This time, it must be because he now met the conditions for entry that the other had sensed it.
“I understand,” Wen Jianyan said, throwing himself onto the leather sofa in the lounge and letting out a long sigh. “I’ll go down there again as soon as I can.”
He pinched the bridge of his nose, looked up at Wu Zhu again, and couldn’t help but ask, “But couldn’t you have just stayed in the rear like before? Did you really have to come along yourself?”
“…”
Wu Zhu looked at Wen Jianyan thoughtfully.
Indeed, he could have just informed the other that he “wanted something” and then watched him run around, just as he had done before. There was no need to make an exception this time.
Moreover, as a target being hunted by Nightmare with all its might, the risk he was taking was not small.
So why?
The otherworldly god leaned over, planting his hands on either side of the sofa and enveloping the human in his shadow. His golden eyes appeared exceptionally bright against the backlighting.
Watching Wen Jianyan instinctively shrink back from his proximity, he suddenly let out a cheerful laugh.
“Isn’t this more interesting?”
Wu Zhu said slowly, as if answering both the other’s question and his own.
Wen Jianyan: “…………”
What kind of ridiculous reason is that?
Wu Zhu kept his head lowered, trapping the human in the small space between his arms and the sofa. His long, high-ponytail hair cascaded over his shoulders with the movement, and his golden eyes, backlit, seemed all the more sharp and piercing.
“Hey, move…”
Perhaps because his nerves were relaxing and the alcohol was kicking back in, Wen Jianyan felt his skin grow hot, his throat tighten, and sweat bead on his forehead.
He couldn’t help but press a hand to his temple, feeling restless.
“You’re too close.”
Wu Zhu’s gaze roamed over his face, slow and deliberate. Just before Wen Jianyan could erupt in anger, he smoothly pulled back. “Drink this.”
He pressed a warm cup into Wen Jianyan’s hand.
Wen Jianyan froze and looked down.
It was the cup of hot milk.
Before he had snatched the tray from Wu Zhu’s hands to hit the man, he had thrust the cup back at him. He hadn’t expected Wu Zhu to actually carry it all the way here.
Wen Jianyan frowned at the milk, his thoughts unreadable.
Wu Zhu: “What’s wrong?”
“…”
“It’s disgusting.”
Wen Jianyan tossed the empty cup back onto the table.
He lowered his eyes, his voice flat and cold. “A waste of my tip.”
–
Perhaps it was because he was away from the tense crowd, or maybe the milk actually worked… the intense buzz from the alcohol had indeed subsided.
Wen Jianyan sat up straight, lost in thought.
Although he had been drinking, he didn’t think his earlier observations were wrong.
The atmosphere in the casino was definitely not right.
Too many people were winning.
But why would the casino do that?
A sense of foreboding grew in his heart.
“What is it?” Wu Zhu’s voice came from nearby.
“Nothing,” Wen Jianyan shook his head and stood up from the sofa, a thoughtful expression still on his face. “I need to verify something.”
He placed his hand on the doorknob.
“I’m turning the stream back on. You’d better get back to your post quickly.”
With that, Wen Jianyan left without a backward glance.
As soon as he stepped out of the room, the roar of the casino washed over him.
He turned on his livestream.
In the “Integrity First” livestream:
[Ahhh! The anchor’s back on!]
[Wuwuwu, it’s only been a few minutes, but I really missed you!!]
[Argh, I’m so mad; the anchor has already sobered up. In the end, we still didn’t get to see him drunk, damn it!]
“Mm,” Wen Jianyan said nonchalantly as he walked, answering questions from the chat. “I’m a good drinker—you’ll have to try harder to get me drunk.”
“Alright, let’s play another round.”
It wasn’t that he was swayed by his audience; he had a theory to test.
“What should we play…”
Wen Jianyan stopped walking. “Ah, this will do.”
Blackjack.
A very traditional casino game.
It was the same game Wen Jianyan had played in the underground area.
Using a deck—usually four decks combined—with the jokers removed, the players’ goal was to get their hand as close to 21 as possible without going over.
Unlike the 1v1 match he had played in the underground, this time there were six people sitting at the table waiting for the dealer, surrounded by a circle of anxious gamblers.
A new round had just begun.
Wen Jianyan chose not to join, instead standing to the side to watch.
Cards were dealt one by one from the dealer’s hand. Some players called “hit” for another card, while others opted for more complex tactics like splitting or doubling down.
There were wins and losses.
Some were happy, others distressed.
After several rounds like this, three anchors angrily threw their chips onto the table—they were out.
Wen Jianyan walked over and took an empty seat.
“Place your bet, please,” the croupier said, looking at him.
Wen Jianyan pulled two chips from his pocket and tossed them onto the table.
First round of cards.
Wen Jianyan: “Hit.”
Second round, third round.
He lost this hand.
Unconcerned, Wen Jianyan tossed out two more chips.
He lost the second hand as well.
This continued for several hands, with more losses than wins.
The viewers in the livestream were getting visibly agitated.
“Aaargh, the anchor’s luck is so bad, it’s painful to watch!”
“Me too, me too!”
“Just switch to another game if it’s not working out… don’t force it when your luck is bad.”
The next hand.
The cards were dealt. Wen Jianyan glanced at the numbers. “Split.”
This meant that when the first two cards had the same value, they could be split into two separate hands, with a bet on each one—essentially, the player was playing two hands at once.
Another card was dealt.
“Double.”
In the “Integrity First” livestream chat:
[Double down!]
[Damn, anchor’s betting big?!]
Another card fell. Wen Jianyan looked up at the dealer in the distance, a faint smile on his lips, and slowly tossed out a gleaming golden chip.
“—Double.”
Normally, a casino doesn’t allow doubling down twice in one game.
But Nightmare’s casino was different.
Here, as long as the gambler wished, there was no limit to the betting.
In the “Integrity First” livestream chat:
[??? WTF? You doubled again??]
[And after splitting, too?]
[Ahhhhh, anchor, have you lost your mind from losing?? Don’t throw away your chips like that, no matter how many you have!!!]
At this, the gathering crowd of onlookers couldn’t help but gasp—a golden chip.
It was a color rarely seen on the gambling tables.
A single chip was worth five thousand points, almost the entire earnings from a D-rank or C-rank livestream!
Wen Jianyan raised a hand, took a glass of amber liquid from a passing waiter’s tray, and took a slow sip without even glancing at the dealer.
The dealer revealed his hole card.
The moment the card was turned over, a wave of gasps rippled through the crowd.
“Holy cow…!”
“Fuck, he won!!!”
“Incredible! This guy’s luck is insane; he won back everything he lost in the final hand!!”
“And he split once and doubled twice… holy shit, that’s an eight-times payout!”
“Ahhhhh, holy shit!! What kind of god is he?!!”
“Sir, will you continue?” the croupier asked politely.
Wen Jianyan gathered his winnings and shook his head with a look of waning interest.
“No.”
He placed the barely-touched drink back on the waiter’s tray, stood up, and walked away from the table.
–
After leaving the table, Wen Jianyan’s expression grew cold.
He had chosen Blackjack for a reason.
In a casino, almost all games have a negative expected value. From a mathematical perspective, only Blackjack has an expected win rate close to 50/50—meaning it’s the only relatively fair game.
Of course, only relatively fair.
And to play Blackjack well, one didn’t need to cheat.
Ultimately, it was about card counting and calculation.
Memorize every card in the dealer’s shoe, calculate the probability of each card appearing, and base your bets on that.
It sounded difficult, but for a seasoned player like him, the process was as natural as eating or drinking.
Wen Jianyan lowered his gaze, his eyes on the chips in his palm, his brow tightly furrowed.
After several rounds, his conclusion was—
The casino wasn’t cheating.
Strange.
This was too strange.
Wen Jianyan wandered around and suddenly found himself back at the bar where he started.
There were three bartenders. Two were mixing drinks for customers, while one with long hair stood still, looking utterly idle. But strangely, no customer or other bartender seemed to notice him, treating him as if he were invisible.
Even from a distance, the man seemed to have noticed his presence. His intense gaze cut across the bar and the sea of people, locking onto him with precision.
Wen Jianyan hesitated.
He glanced down at his livestream duration.
He had met the minimum requirement.
“That’s all for today. See you tomorrow,” Wen Jianyan said to his viewers.
Ignoring their wails of despair, he ended the stream and walked to the bar.
The one idle person who served no one and did nothing finally moved. He came forward, a faint smile on his lips. “Guest, what can I get for you?”
Wen Jianyan gave Wu Zhu a distrustful look. “Just give me whatever you know how to make.”
The other man seemed to let out a low chuckle, though it was indistinct in the noisy environment.
He turned and busied himself.
About twenty seconds later, a glass of warm water was pushed in front of him.
Wen Jianyan: “…”
Haha, so he can’t make anything at all.
Well, that’s not surprising.
Not that he really cared.
Wen Jianyan took a sip of the warm water and pinched the bridge of his nose.
“Guest, is something troubling you?” the tall man asked, leaning forward over the bar. His eyes were locked on Wen Jianyan, his tone cheerful. “Do you need my help?”
“…”
Wen Jianyan froze, then looked up and met his eyes.
He could tell this guy was genuinely having a great time.
But…
Maybe because he was too tired, or the alcohol hadn’t worn off, Wen Jianyan propped up his chin with one hand, glanced at him, and said lazily, “I’m thinking about how the casino is cheating.”
“Mhm.”
Wu Zhu nodded as if taking it seriously.
But Wen Jianyan knew perfectly well that this guy had no clue about cheating. He was just putting on an act.
“Also,” Wen Jianyan swiveled in his barstool to look at the giant screen in the distance, complaining, “what’s with all those numbers? It’s just a mess.”
Wu Zhu followed his gaze to the massive screen. “Do you want the total sum?”
“…Huh?” Now it was Wen Jianyan’s turn to be stunned.
He looked up at Wu Zhu.
Wu Zhu looked back at him. “Or just the individual numbers?”
“…”
Wen Jianyan sat up straight and stared at Wu Zhu, his eyes flickering as he thought.
Finally, after a few seconds, he let out a short “hm” and said slowly:
“Both.”
The two rows of numbers on the screen jumped rapidly, with large and small figures refreshing in a dizzying blur. Even for someone like Wen Jianyan, with a frightening memory capable of memorizing multiple decks of cards, he wouldn’t dare claim he could remember all the numbers. It was simply not something a human could do.
And the being before him…
Was indeed not human.
The time each row of numbers appeared, the sum of the numbers in different periods, even the ratio between the two rows—this guy knew it all.
Whenever Wen Jianyan asked a question, the answer was immediate.
As time passed and their conversation continued, Wen Jianyan sat up straighter and straighter, his expression growing more and more grave.
By analyzing the numbers on the screen at key moments—especially when he was losing and winning—Wen Jianyan realized what the screen was displaying.
It was every single gambling match currently in progress.
The left side was the number of chips won by the anchors, and the right was the number of chips taken by the casino.
Just as Wen Jianyan had observed at the beginning, before he was approached and went to the private room, the number on the left was far higher than the right. By his calculation, the anchors’ win rate was as high as 81.28%!!
That was an absolutely abnormal number.
However, about half an hour later, the win rates balanced out again.
Although the right side was higher than the left, it was within the normal win rate for a casino.
But soon, the win rate changed again, and the scales of victory once more tipped in favor of the players.
This cycle repeated.
Wen Jianyan sat frozen, his fingers clenched. He stared at the giant screen above and the rows of numbers, his breathing becoming slightly ragged.
He was right.
The casino was indeed cheating.
But it was different from cheating in the traditional sense. This time, the cheating was in reverse.
The casino was letting the anchors “win.”
Theoretically, gamblers in such a casino should be ecstatic, because the house never tried to lower their win rate. In a casino like this, most people were winning most of the time.
But… every so often, it would stop cheating and let the win rate return to normal—with the house once again having the advantage.
There is a psychological principle called “loss aversion.”
It means that when faced with gains and losses of equal value, people are significantly more averse to the loss.
Giving someone a hundred dollars and then taking it away is far more painful than giving them nothing at all. It is precisely because of this psychological principle that gamblers in a casino are more prone to frenzy when they lose, because they desperately want to stop losing and recover their losses, so they place bigger bets.
Wen Jianyan felt a cold sweat break out on his back.
He turned his head and scanned his surroundings.
Even though the gambling win rate was now back to normal, people’s expressions were becoming more and more frantic and possessed—because the money they had been given was now being lost.
So, if they kept gambling, would they win it back?
The answer was yes.
Because the win rate would soon be raised again.
Like Pavlov’s dogs, everyone present was being trained over and over, implanted with the idea that “as long as you keep gambling, you can definitely win it all back.” They were bound by invisible psychological principles, unknowingly falling into a terrifying vortex from which they could not escape.
This happens time and again in real-world casinos, which is why gambling is so terrifying.
And on this cruise ship, this process was being deliberately accelerated by several, even tens or hundreds of times!!!
—It was intentionally making people addicted!!!
Wen Jianyan shot up from his seat, his back unknowingly drenched in cold sweat. He pulled out his phone and glanced at the time.
He had to find everyone immediately.
“Are you leaving?” A voice came from behind him.
Wen Jianyan nodded distractedly. “Yeah.”
He paused in his step and turned back.
“Thanks for your help just now.”
If it weren’t for Wu Zhu’s terrifying memory assisting him, it probably would have taken him much longer to uncover the secret—and by that time, it might have been too late.
The so-called “addiction” is terrifying; it cannot be curbed by reason alone.
It is a unified product of psychology, sociology, and mathematics.
It controls the human brain, dominating the body and mind like a demon. It is a forbidden zone that must never be touched. Even the most outstanding people can be captured by it and become its slave.
Once created, it can never be broken.
“It is my duty to alleviate a guest’s worries.”
It seemed Wu Zhu was having a lot of fun with this role-playing game.
Wen Jianyan couldn’t help but give him another look.
Unlike the dim private room, the lighting at the bar was bright.
Light streamed down from above, flowing over his shoulders.
From any angle, Wu Zhu possessed a beauty that surpassed human limits.
However, because his inhuman aura was so distinct, the first reaction upon seeing him was always fear, so few people ever noticed his face.
Now, with his long hair tied up and dressed in a waiter’s uniform, he actually looked… quite presentable.
Wu Zhu noticed Wen Jianyan’s gaze. “What is it?”
Wen Jianyan: “Nothing.”
He glanced at Wu Zhu and gave a fair assessment, “Nice clothes.”
With that, he turned and left.
“…”
Wu Zhu stood motionless, watching Wen Jianyan’s retreating back.
The expression on his face gradually turned cheerful, and the corners of his lips began to curl up.
Ah, he noticed this time.
Author’s Note:
- Card counting in Blackjack does exist, but it has been artistically embellished here. In reality, it can increase your win rate, but it’s not as miraculous as this.
- Gambling is terrifying; do not ever touch it! Too many modern novels and films glorify “Gambling Kings” and “Gods of Gambling,” making it seem harmless. But I hope everyone is not deceived by the dazzling illusion. The horror I mentioned in my text is real. Please do not be curious, do not try it, not even once.
