Ten Day Ultimatum

"Oh?" Mortal Pig looked genuinely puzzled. "I’m not quite sure what you’re getting at."
Ole Lu, equally perplexed, chimed in. "Punk, what’re you talking about? Is there a {sure way to win} in this game?"
"I wouldn’t go so far as to say there's a sure way to win," Qi Xia replied, shaking his head. "But one thing is certain—{Pig Category Games} are far from being purely {luck-based}. They hinge entirely on how well you use {probability}."

"What do you mean?" Ole Lu asked, still confused. "No matter how you divide the pieces, there are fifty black and fifty white stones, which means there's always a ½ chance of drawing either color."
"Is that so?" Qi Xia shook his head with a faint smile. "It’s precisely this point that makes the game appear {luck-based}."
"Let me tell you something, punk." Ole Lu leaned in close to Qi Xia’s ear, lowering his voice to a whisper. "The first time, I separated all the black stones into one bowl and the white stones into the other, thinking if I could just pick the bowl with the black stones, I’d win. But I lost. The second time, I split the black and white stones evenly between the bowls, and yet again, no luck. My luck’s been rotten."

He rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "The more I think about it, the more I realize—if you disrupt the balance, the proportion of black and white in each bowl shifts, making it even harder to pick a black stone. No matter how you slice it, there’s no foolproof strategy here."
Qi Xia nodded. "A {sure-win} might be impossible, but there’s always a way to improve the odds in my favor."
"Hmm? Do you have a solution?"

Qi Xia didn’t respond directly. Instead, he turned to Mortal Pig and said, "I’m ready. Let’s begin."
Mortal Pig snickered, extending his hand in a mockingly polite gesture. "Please, proceed with the allocation."
Qi Xia cast a glance at the two identical porcelain bowls, then at the black and white stones, indistinguishable by texture or feel. Without a word, he silently scooped up a handful of stones and placed them into one of the bowls.

Ole Lu watched Qi Xia closely, trying to figure out how he planned to distribute the hundred stones.
Qi Xia continued to pick up stones and drop them into one bowl, seemingly unconcerned about how many black or white pieces he was allocating.
"Uh… are you sure about this?" Ole Lu asked hesitantly. "Shouldn’t you at least count how many you’ve put in?"

Qi Xia didn’t respond, his actions steady and deliberate as he kept placing the stones into the bowl, ignoring Ole Lu entirely.
Ole Lu and Lin Qin exchanged puzzled glances, uncertain of Qi Xia’s intentions.
Qi Xia continued until all the stones had been placed into a single bowl.

The pig-headed figure, visibly irritated, shouted, "Hey, hey, hey! That’s against the rules! You have to distribute the stones between the two bowls!"
"I know," Qi Xia replied calmly. "The allocation isn’t finished yet."
With that, he picked up a single black stone from the bowl and tossed it into the other.
"I’m finished," Qi Xia announced, raising his head and meeting Mortal Pig’s gaze with calm composure.

"What?!"
Everyone in the room was stunned.
What kind of allocation method was this?

One bowl held a solitary black stone, while the other contained the remaining ninety-nine pieces.
Ole Lu stared at the two bowls, his pupils dilating in disbelief. After what felt like an eternity, he finally muttered, "Brilliant… Absolutely brilliant…"
He had grasped Qi Xia’s strategy.

Initially, no matter how Ole Lu arranged the stones, the {optimal distribution} was to split them evenly between the bowls, ensuring a 50% chance of drawing a black piece.
But Qi Xia had shattered that balance.
By placing a single black stone in one bowl, he created a 100% certainty of picking black there, while the other bowl maintained a probability as close to 50% as possible.

Since the first step was selecting a bowl at random, Qi Xia’s odds of immediately choosing the one with the single black stone were high. In that case, there would be no need to even draw a piece—he would win outright.
Even if his luck failed him and he picked the other bowl, the probability of drawing a black piece remained close to 50%, precisely 49%. In essence, he had layered an additional level of {insurance} over his victory.
As Mortal Pig took in the scene, his gaze, hidden beneath the mask, visibly ✧ NоvеIight ✧ (Original source) darkened.

"Are you trying to play petty tricks on me?" Mortal Pig’s tone shifted, losing its playful edge and adopting a more sinister, calculating timbre.
"Petty tricks?" Qi Xia raised an eyebrow, a hint of amusement in his voice. "Nothing I’ve done violates the rules. How could that be considered a petty trick?"
Mortal Pig retrieved an eye mask from his pocket and, with deliberate slowness, extended it to Qi Xia. "I’ve met many clever individuals, but often, their luck is less than favorable."

Qi Xia accepted the eye mask with a nod. "I can’t argue with that. Intelligent people tend to rely less on luck in their endeavors."
"Yet, in the end, this is a gamble," Mortal Pig’s tone dropped to a conspiratorial whisper. "In gambling, {strong luck} is paramount. You may be astute, but how is your fortune?"
"I can’t say," Qi Xia replied calmly. "But we’ll find out soon enough."

Qi Xia methodically donned the blindfold and placed his hands on the table, remaining perfectly still.
Mortal Pig took the two bowls and began to shake them vigorously, the chess pieces rattling inside.
This rule had originally been devised to thwart those who might stack black pieces on top of a base of white ones, making it easier to draw a black piece.

However, in light of Qi Xia’s strategy, this precaution became moot.
Mortal Pig understood that no matter how much he mixed the pieces, Qi Xia would choose a bowl without hesitation.
Having done his part, Mortal Pig resigned himself to leaving the outcome to the whims of {luck}.

With that thought, Mortal Pig casually shook the bowls, thoroughly mixing their contents, then placed one on the left and one on the right.
"Alright, which bowl will you choose?" Mortal Pig asked. "The one on your left or the one on your right?"
Qi Xia bowed his head in contemplation, silent for a moment before finally saying, "I choose the left."

Both Lin Qin and Ole Lu were taken aback, their expressions tinged with apprehension.
The bowl on Qi Xia’s left contained the ninety-nine pieces.
Mortal Pig’s eyes gleamed. "Excellent. Now, please select a piece from the bowl."

He pushed the bowl toward Qi Xia with a trace of mockery, eager to witness Qi Xia’s folly.
A subtle smile graced Qi Xia’s lips as he replied, "Since you wish to test my fortune, this bowl is perfectly suited for that purpose."
"What—" Mortal Pig’s astonishment was evident. "You—You’re aware that this bowl is {wrong}?!"

"To some degree," Qi Xia said, his hand moving deliberately into the bowl. "Choosing between {left and right}, much like {rock, paper, scissors}, may appear to offer an equal probability. But human cognition invariably introduces certain biases."
"What does that mean?" Ole Lu asked, clearly perplexed.
"Consider it this way," Qi Xia began, "Just as many people instinctively choose {scissors} first in a game of rock-paper-scissors, the probabilities are rarely balanced. {Paper} opens the palm, creating a sense of vulnerability, while {rock} clenches the fist, which subconsciously induces discomfort. As a result, {scissors} often becomes the favored choice. Similarly, when choosing between left and right, there’s a subconscious bias at play. Most people perceive {the left side} as inherently safer. This comes from the fact that most individuals are right-handed and use their dominant hand more. Consequently, the likelihood of injuring the dominant hand is higher, leading people to unconsciously favor {the left side} as the safer option."

"You… are indeed not an ordinary person," Mortal Pig remarked.
"There’s no need for flattery," Qi Xia replied smoothly. "You understand these principles just as well. Placing the ninety-nine chess pieces on my left side wasn’t exactly random, was it?"