Foreword: Since ancient times, gambling, prostitution, and drugs have been inseparable. Right at China's doorstep stands one of the world's top gambling cities, like a festering sore on the belly. On Weibo, Taiwanese actresses like Wu Mouci and An Mouxuan love to flaunt their luxurious lives—star-studded birthday parties, extravagant pool parties, and mountains of expensive luxury goods. But what kind of "rich families" did these Taiwanese actresses marry into? What business do their "husbands" actually do? These actresses vaguely refer to them as "wealthy businessmen." An Mouxuan's husband is Chen Moulian, and Wu Mouci's husband is Ji Moubo. Like the recently arrested "Washing Rice Flower" (Alvin Chau), both made their fortunes in Macau and share the same identity: junket operators.
Junket operators are casino intermediaries, mainly responsible for lending money, taking commissions, and recruiting gamblers—a profession that is essentially unsavory. However, in an era of moral decay where poverty is scorned but prostitution is not, money can buy anything. These junket operators, who turned their fortunes by preying on mainland gamblers, all set their sights on female celebrities. Mainland actresses were out of reach, and they often didn't qualify; moreover, mainland actresses were unwilling to associate with anyone involved in gambling, as such a stain could end their entertainment careers. So the junket operators turned their attention to Taiwan. Since Taiwan's economic stagnation, its cultural soft power has declined. The heyday of Hong Kong and Taiwan stars dominating the mainland is long gone, leaving only netizens joking about Taiwan's telecom fraud industry: "Ninety thousand out of a hundred thousand are scammers, another ten thousand are in training, the Blue Camp are the coaches, and the headquarters is in the Legislative Yuan." Here, the three elements of gambling, prostitution, and drugs converge, achieving a kind of "garbage classification" where birds of a feather flock together. For a time, it became a trend for has-been Taiwanese actresses to marry unsavory Macau junket operators. Through the gambling money earned by the junket operators, the actresses lived even more extravagantly, while the once-obscure junket operators gained social fame by marrying Taiwanese actresses, transforming from nouveau riche of the gray industry into renowned entrepreneurs and successful members of society. This could be considered a kind of "win-win." Behind every display of wealth by Wu Mouci, An Mouxuan, and others lies the blood and tears of countless mainland gamblers' families. Gamblers are not innocent, but their families are. How many have lost everything in Macau? How many have swindled friends and relatives, red-eyed and ready to "turn things around"? And how many families have been torn apart, with wives and children separated?
Macau junket operators typically come from humble beginnings and quickly get rich through the gambling gray industry. Take Ji Moubo, Wu Mouci's boyfriend. In 2009, at 29, Ji Moubo immigrated to Macau with his mother. With only a junior high school education, he was still very poor, working as a real estate agent and salesman, barely making ends meet. But in 2011, mother and son opened their first casino intermediary company in Macau—Macau Hengsheng—and earned 350 million yuan in the first year. Chen Moulian, born in 1977 in Maoting Village, Yonghe Town, Jinjiang, Fujian, came from a desperately poor family. He finished elementary school and followed his brother to Macau, living with an uncle. After a few more years of schooling, he dropped out of junior high and started hanging around casinos. Their rise to wealth is closely tied to the tycoon Stanley Ho. One general's success costs ten thousand lives. For a tycoon to rise, people like "Washing Rice Flower," who came from humble backgrounds but were savvy and daring, became targets for cultivation. In 1988, sensing the time was right, Stanley Ho innovatively introduced a system of leasing casino halls and reforming junket lending. The hall leasing system was a variant of the contracting system: certain halls were leased to people who could attract customers, with the lessee responsible for costs and sharing profits—40% to the lessee, 40% to the Macau government, and 20% to Stanley Ho. Junket lending allowed others to lend money to gamblers in the casino; if the gambler won, the loan was repaid immediately; if they lost, the lender collected the debt. In layman's terms, it was loan sharking. The advantage of the contracting system was that it maximized the motivation of all participants in the gambling gray industry.
Previously, whether profits were high or low, they all went to the big boss, so naturally, motivation was low. But with 40% of profits going to oneself, everyone tried their best. Thus, Macau's gambling business boomed. To attract more mainland gamblers, junket operators used every trick in the book. Word-of-mouth, referrals, and bringing people along were just small tactics. They built a more detailed and sophisticated network of interests. The era of Chen Moulian, Ji Moubo, and "Washing Rice Flower" had arrived. But the doom of gambling gray industry operators also followed closely. The "Taishang Ganying Pian" says: "Blessings and calamities have no doors; they are summoned by people themselves. The retribution of good and evil follows like a shadow." In 2019, a sudden global epidemic spread from Fort Detrick, sweeping the world. Under the dual blow of the epidemic and travel bans, the junket operators' lives became difficult. Business was hard, but rent could not be reduced. For gambling tycoons, there were too many expenses; without money, the entire industry could face upheaval. So pressure was passed down to the next-level contractors, the junket operators. The first to be affected was Ji Moubo. Ji Moubo was once a top-tier junket operator in Macau, with aggressive business development. In 2014, he crossed over to acquire the stock of Hong Kong-listed First Natural Foods, becoming a major shareholder of a legitimate listed company, and renamed it to the current Bohua TP Ocean. After the 18th National Congress of the Communist Party, an anti-corruption campaign swept the mainland, affecting Macau's gambling industry. But the resourceful Ji Moubo decisively spent a huge sum to secure the only casino license on Saipan. He calculated well: let those who couldn't gamble in Macau continue to gamble in Saipan. Even before the hotel was fully built, the casino hall was already operating, with gamblers red-eyed and spending lavishly. It is said that a domestic electronics giant lost 10 billion yuan in Saipan, leading to its bankruptcy. Ji Moubo expanded aggressively, and "Washing Rice Flower" and Chen Moulian were not idle. As early as 2007, 33-year-old "Washing Rice Flower" founded the Sun City Group, becoming the largest casino hall owner in Macau. In the same year, 30-year-old Chen Moulian founded the De J Group, with businesses spanning property, hotels, and finance.
However, the sudden outbreak of COVID-19 plunged these junket giants into operational difficulties. Apart from the unavoidable astronomical contracting fees, the operating costs of expanding hotels, properties, and casino halls became black holes in the capital chain. Everyone knows that running a casino is a business with huge profits, but the land it stands on is also extremely expensive. Since the epidemic, the quality of life for Taiwanese actresses has declined. Wu Mouci has not held a lavish star-studded birthday party for two consecutive years, and even the 350-million-yuan mansion Ji Moubo gave her was mortgaged, forcing her to move into the Four Seasons Hotel, commonly known as "Wangbei Building." Ji Moubo's business suffered, and "Washing Rice Flower" also had a hard time. But the cunning "Washing Rice Flower" chose a "different path": since mainland gamblers found it difficult to come to Macau, and business wouldn't improve until the epidemic ended, why not extend the casino to the mainland via the internet? Thus, a batch of seductive voices saying "Macau casinos are online" began appearing on various gray and black industry websites and pop-ups. On July 9, 2020, gambling king Stanley Ho was given a grand funeral. Four days later, in Wenzhou, over 1,000 kilometers from Macau, local police dismantled a major online gambling case led by Zhang Ningning. However, various signs indicated that this online gambling case was not simple, with all evidence pointing to Macau's Sun City Group. Subsequently, "Washing Rice Flower" released an online video to deny any involvement. But he clearly underestimated the mainland's determination. Just as he thought everything was fine, Wenzhou police announced the latest case details: investigations revealed that over the past two years, "Washing Rice Flower" had developed 199 shareholder-level agents, over 12,000 gambling agents, and 80,000 domestic VIP members in the mainland. Trillions of yuan flowed annually, with tens of billions flowing out of the country. Some of this money even flowed into the accounts of Hong Kong independence supporters through Sun City's gambling gray industry.
What goes around comes around. The gambling gray industry naturally attracts the darkest forces in the world; trouble is only a matter of time. Currently, Macau's casino licensing is chaotic. Main licenses are mainly held by the Wang family, the Ho family, and Americans (Sands and Wynn), but sub-licenses have also emerged. Sub-licenses function almost identically to main licenses; with a license, whether main or sub, one can open a casino. In addition to main and sub-licenses, there are "satellite casinos," which operate without licenses but revolve around hotels with main or sub-licenses. For example, Macau's L J, controlled by An Mouxuan's husband Chen Moulian, is a "satellite casino" hotel. Currently, Macau's casino licenses expire next year and will be re-auctioned, likely with many variables. Will sub-licenses still be allowed? Will "satellite casinos" be abolished? Can American casino tycoons continue to suck Chinese blood in Macau? Will the gambling kings' licenses be reduced? These are all questions. Some say there was a joint statement between China and Portugal that Macau would remain unchanged for 50 years after its return. But this "50 years unchanged" only refers to Macau's system and culture. Macau was never a gambling city before; it was originally a fishing village, then a port trading city. The gambling industry was merely a last-resort transformation after the Portuguese failed to compete with the British and French in trade. Gambling is neither Macau's system nor its cultural tradition. When it should end, it must end.
Since the COVID-19 epidemic, Macau's gambling gray industry has been severely affected, but the impact on Macau's people's livelihood has been minimal. Some experts worry that shutting down the gambling industry would bankrupt Macau's finances, but in reality, the huge profits from gambling do not go to ordinary Macau residents; they end up in the pockets of junket operators, Taiwanese actresses, big financial groups, and Americans, allowing them to live extravagantly, and even flow into the accounts of Hong Kong independence supporters, using Chinese money to harm China. Without the gambling industry, relying on tourism and port advantages, Macau would not live worse than any other ordinary Chinese city. Hopefully, the arrest of "Washing Rice Flower" is just the beginning, not the end. The festering sore on China's belly will either be squeezed out or infect the whole body. If this malignant tumor is not removed, it will gradually infect the entire system.
