In that less-than-spacious chess room, my friends and I invented numerous ways to play cards: for example, in one game, we imposed a rule that six “3”s were the most significant cards in the room, bigger than even bombs.In another game, we stipulated that no pairs could be played the entire time. After the cards are dealt with, these rules are often prescribed on a whim by someone, pointing to the fluttering electric fan on the ceiling and swearing. It is reasonable to say that the game participants should not set the rules, but we have been playing for so long that we don’t care about winning or losing. Although there were many times when I knew I could win, “winning” was an out-of-date form of fun for us. My friends and I indulged in the habit of starting a game with a bomb or with a speech that didn’t matter, and then suddenly decided to show our cards and break the consecutive pairs into single cards in front of everyone. On a few occasions, we also added card-grabbing rules to certain games, where we could ask the other player to hand over a specific card (if there was one) by giving any of the reasons, so that game became a show time for the nonsensical scammers.
Our botched show attracted more and more people to join in or spectate. Within a few weeks, the number of players in this small room doubled from seven or eight, there were more and more cards on the table, not just a few decks but dozens, and then we couldn’t figure out if there were any missing cards, so we grabbed a hand and started playing, more or less at will. Our rules became more and more complicated: for example, once, we played gobang with the poker cards, using the numbers on the face of the cards to represent the coordinates of the falling pieces. Later we found that such rules could continue to iterate: solving sudoku with the numbers of the playing cards describing the coordinates and playing airplane chess with the numbers you want to fill in the sudoku instead of the dice. Our rules were also destructive: at one point, we specified that the last digit of the date on the clock on the wall was the number of cards each person had to put in the current round of the game, and since a participant acts on his initiative turning the clock to the next day so that he can take his round, everyone went to turn the clock before playing, and we ended up with a full year gone by.
Gradually, that small room could no longer accommodate us, so we moved to the hall. The hall was bursting at the seams. We moved to the street. The street was teeming with onlookers. We moved to the square. The weather was very windy in winter, and we piled up a maze with tires. At first, it was still flat, then it became stereoscopic, and then it was the path would be a ready replacement: the wall would fall into a road at any time, the road would suddenly lead to another direction, and the wall would suddenly appear on the road we walked. My friends and I played cards on a platform in motion, trying to get everyone in the maze to see one of the games. But we never kept track of these sudden rules, and we let these rules loose to fend for themselves, and if, if any of them survived, we would have to start carrying them. It would hang around our necks like a debt unless we could realize that our inventions would soon become ropes that would bind us in the game of creating rules.
The ridiculous games played by my friends and I finally alerted God, so he came to our poker game one day and asked me by name to play him one-on-one. I hadn’t had such an easy game of cards in a long time, but the only problem was that there were already too many cards on the table. God said it was okay, we could play while we drew, and I said okay. So we played around the clock, my thumbs starting to get calluses from losing cards, my hair starting to turn white from thinking or anxiety, and my friends, I don’t know how many waves they changed back and forth, were about to finish, and that’s when I realized it was a trap: it was a two-player game, I could know his hand, and he could know mine. I showed him my cards and said I quit. I grabbed him by the ear in anger, and I recognized it: my dear friend who pretended to be the God, showing the birthmark on his neck.
 bombs: more than four cards with the same number can be regarded as “bombs” it’s more significant than any single card or pair, and joker in the poker card game’s rule
 pairs: 2 cards with the same number can be regarded as “pair”
 start a game with a bomb: the dumbest way to play in a traditional poker game, very likely to ruin the card you have on your hand and lead to losing the game.
 break the consecutive pairs into single cards: another dumb way to play in a traditional poker game.
 炸弹: 四张以上同样大小的牌被称为“炸弹”。在扑克牌规则中炸弹比任何单张、对子、大小王更大，通常用于终结一局游戏或者抢夺出牌权
 对子: 两张同样大小的牌被称为“对子”。
 开局就下炸弹: 在扑克牌游戏中这是一种非常愚蠢的出牌方式，通常会导致毁掉出完手牌的可能性并且输掉游戏。
 将飞机拆成一张张单张: 另一种愚蠢的出牌方式。