"I see color!" I blurted out, then realized I shouldn't have and quickly shut my mouth.
"See the color python?" Uncle Harvey turned to Mr. Xu and explained. "We call this kind of ridge a python in the trade. When you can see color on it, it's called a dragon tail. On this stone, the color python runs through the entire piece—this is called 'jade belt wrapping the body,' meaning there's a high probability that below this belt is a color line, possibly running all the way through."
Mr. Xu and I were listening intently when Min interrupted. "Boss, money's counted. You want to cut this stone or not?"
Mr. Xu perked up immediately. "Cut it!"
"How about we cut parallel to the python band, straight through the middle?" Uncle Harvey pondered for a moment. I could sense he already had his answer—the pause was purely performative politeness. "Actually, that wouldn't be ideal. Mr. Xu, listen to me. Let's cut perpendicular to the python band, about one-third of the way in, and take a cap off first to see."
"Alright, let's do it your way!"
---
We followed Min to his cutting machine. Min opened the machine's cover, secured the stone, adjusted the blade under Uncle Harvey's guidance, and started the machine.
The roar of the stone cutting drew a crowd of onlookers.
I could tell Mr. Xu, who had been so composed when we first met, was getting increasingly excited. For him, 90,000 yuan wasn't much—even losing it would be no big deal. But facing the thrill of the unknown, anyone's heart would race.
Was this why people fell in love with jade gambling?
When the machine's roar suddenly stopped, Min was the first to rush over. He flipped open the cover, slapped his forehead, and exclaimed, "Oh ma lay!"
That was Burmese for "Oh my god."
Uncle Harvey went next. He looked at the stone and broke into a satisfied smile.
Mr. Xu and I walked over to the machine. The stone was now in two pieces, one large and one small. Though the flesh was grayish-white and dull, right through the middle of each piece ran a strip of vivid, rich green—a brilliant yang green with a warm yellow undertone, the most expensive shade. When the flashlight beam hit it, the light didn't penetrate deeply—it dissolved into a radiant green glow. Absolutely stunning.
Mr. Xu's face bloomed with joy. "Incredible, Old Harvey! This is definitely a winning cut, right?"
Uncle Harvey said, "A win, and a big one at that! This is proper imperial green!"
"The green area seems to have much better texture than the surrounding stone."
"Exactly. That's what we call 'where the dragon goes, water follows'—wherever there's color, the texture improves by a grade."
"This green strip is quite wide. Can it make bangles?"
"We'll have to see," Uncle Harvey laughed. "If the color goes all the way through in a solid sheet, without cracks, there's room for bangles. A fully colored bangle would be worth at least a million."
Mr. Xu cleared his throat and straightened up, probably about to deliver a speech thanking Uncle Harvey and inviting everyone to dinner. Just then, a man in a blue jacket tapped him on the shoulder and asked him to step aside. The two men walked a few paces away. The blue-jacketed man said just a few words, and the pure joy on Mr. Xu's face gradually faded. When he returned, he looked conflicted.
He whispered to Uncle Harvey, "Someone's offering to buy my stone for 340,000..."
Uncle Harvey said, "Sell it! Taking your profits now is the wisest move."
"But what if I cut again and the whole thing is solid green? Then there are bangles, and we're talking millions!"
"What if there isn't?" I thought I detected a mysterious smile on Uncle Harvey's face.
"I feel like I'm on a roll today! This is my lucky day! There has to be more!"
A fully green jade bangle was worth a luxury car.
After Mr. Xu said this, the impulsive rush faded. He started thinking more carefully. After a moment, he asked Uncle Harvey, "If I cut again and it's all green below, how much could it reach?"
"A million, guaranteed minimum."
"And if it crashes completely? What's the worst-case scenario?"
"The green on the surface is worth something, but not enough to recoup your cost."
Mr. Xu fell into the contemplation that every jade gambler experiences. He walked over to the stone, flashlight in hand, examining it from every angle. Uncle Harvey joined him and answered every question.
But whether the interior would rise or crash—there was only analysis, no certainty.
After a while, Mr. Xu and Uncle Harvey stepped out of the shop and stood by the roadside. Mr. Xu pulled out a pack of Yellow Crane Tower cigarettes and put one in his mouth. Uncle Harvey stepped forward with a lighter, but Mr. Xu cupped his hands to shield the flame for a long time without managing to light it. The two of them stood in the middle of the bustling aisle, blocking everyone's way.
Uncle Harvey said to Mr. Xu, "Or maybe—"
"You're right," Mr. Xu interrupted, taking another drag. "I do need to think about it."
Uncle Harvey stopped talking. He glanced at me, then at the blue-jacketed man who'd made the offer. Everyone was waiting for Mr. Xu's decision.
I'd been observing from the side, and it suddenly struck me that Mr. Xu had never actually considered taking the money. A person genuinely deliberating would look downward, or at the thing they were contemplating. But since leaving the bidder's side, Mr. Xu had never glanced at the blue-jacketed man—his eyes had been fixed on the cut stone the entire time. I realized his mind was already made up. The so-called "thinking it over" was just him confirming what he already wanted.
In truth, nobody could say how deep the color went. That was why many of Uncle Harvey's stones only had windows opened or caps cut. At least, that was what I thought.
Uncle Harvey urged Mr. Xu to take his profits. After hearing this, Mr. Xu grew even more silent.
Uncle Harvey seemed to understand immediately. He patted Mr. Xu on the back and stepped away.
As if receiving Uncle Harvey's tacit blessing, Mr. Xu crushed his cigarette, turned to the blue-jacketed man, and said, "I'm sorry, but I want to cut it and see for myself. Today I trust myself."
He turned to the machine operator. "Please go ahead."
---
When the machine closed this time, Mr. Xu's expression was grave. The pure, thrilling anticipation had morphed into something closer to anxiety, making even me, a bystander, nervous. Logically, this cut should have been faster than the first, but it felt like an eternity.
Finally, the machine stopped again. This time, Mr. Xu was the first to rush forward.
"Oh my god!" This time it was Mr. Xu who slapped his forehead.
Old Harvey and I went over. One look, and we both groaned in disappointment. The once-brilliant yang green, beautiful as it appeared, extended less than 1 centimeter deep before gradually mixing into black fungus. The color line did indeed run through the entire stone, and there was a large patch. But after the first few centimeters, the black grew increasingly dominant. Most of it was nearly pure black, speckled with green dots—nowhere near jewelry-grade jade.
"That's fungus," I thought. In the image, where green dominates over black, the value is high. Where black dominates, it plummets.
"Is this black stuff worth anything now?"
"I'll be honest—almost worthless."
Mr. Xu let out a groan, as if struck by a migraine. After a moment, he looked over at the blue-jacketed man.
The man saw him looking and spread his hands, as if to say, "Why are you looking at me?"
The stone was already cut, its true nature revealed. Whether the result was a win or a loss, the previous agreement of 340,000 was void the moment the blade came down.
The blue-jacketed man shuffled away. Watching his retreating back, Mr. Xu sighed. "Ah, it was my own decision. I got too greedy."
He turned to Old Harvey. "How much is it worth now?"
"Maybe ten or twenty thousand."
"Well, at least I can recoup something."
Suddenly, a loud *boom* rang out. I jumped and looked toward the source—fireworks were going off outside Delong. The dark stalls, the stones, and the vendors sitting on the ground lit up red with each burst, then went dark, then lit up green, then dark again.
"Ruili has a custom," Old Harvey explained. "Whenever someone cuts a winning stone, they set off fireworks. Actually, it didn't used to be this way. Around 2000, when people from Guangdong started coming, they began this tradition of setting off fireworks to celebrate a winning cut. It caught on, and now everyone does it."
The fireworks celebrating fortune were so loud we had to pause our conversation until the last one exploded.
Mr. Xu sighed. "So many people are winning here in Ruili. This place really is blessed."
"Not really. Every night, who knows how many stones get cut—but do you know how many actually produce a win?"
"How many?"
"Only the ones setting off fireworks."
But just at Delong Night Market alone, who knows how many people were shining flashlights at stones.
Mr. Xu gave a bitter smile and sighed. "We should have been the ones setting off fireworks."
This was survivorship bias. Just like scrolling through social media, where after a while it seems like everyone is traveling abroad and everyone earns millions. That illusion comes from people only sharing the highlights of their lives, and us stitching those highlights together into a composite reality.
And Ruili amplified this survivorship bias in an almost surreal way.
Every night, fireworks went off, reminding you every fifteen minutes that someone had just made money.
Those who made money set off fireworks. What about those who didn't? We couldn't hear them. Their sounds were nothing but curses or silence. The same silence Mr. Xu wore now.
In mere minutes, Mr. Xu had gone from being up 300,000, to dreaming of a million, to losing everything.