IHSAGW Chapter 22

The aunt paused for a moment. She knew clearly that the child before her was kindhearted and would never intentionally harm her.

Another strange noise came from behind. Fighting the urge to turn around, she lowered her head and focused on the Go board. As the young man gently placed another white stone, she concentrated even harder, studying the position from every angle.

Nian Le looked up, his indifferent gaze settling on the young man who had repeatedly made noises until he finally caught the referee’s attention.

“Contestant.” The referee strode over, his expression stern. “Once your game is over, please leave the venue immediately. If you make any more disturbances that affect other players, I will report the matter to the chief referee.”

“Sorry, sorry.” The young man grinned as he quickly packed up his Go set. Before leaving, he deliberately glanced back at Nian Le’s board, made a vulgar gesture, and left with eyes full of ridicule and provocation.

Watching him leave, Nian Le endured the electric shock-like pain stabbing into the right side of his head. Calmly, he picked up a white stone and placed it on the board. The click it made was noticeably sharper than usual.

His opponent responded with a move.

Nian Le picked up another white stone. Staring at the board, where the lines and stones seemed to overlap into multiple blurred images, he raised a hand to massage his brow. Closing his eyes briefly, he looked again before finally identifying the move he had intended to play.

The white stone landed.

He gently pressed the clock, steadying his breathing.

Across from him, the aunt stared at the board, once again deep in thought.

Nian Le lowered his head and closed his eyes, unwilling to interrupt the variations he had already calculated in his mind. Yet the stones in his imagination continued to move uncontrollably, branching into another possible outcome.

The world dissolved into darkness.

A persistent ringing filled his ears.

Nian Le struggled not to show even the slightest sign of discomfort. Only after the piercing shrillness finally faded did the constant ringing give way to an unbroken series of coughs.

His eyelids felt heavy.

He wiped the sweat from his forehead and vaguely noticed the aunt urgently making exaggerated expressions at him, seemingly trying to signal something.

His gaze swept over the board before following her line of sight.

Only then did he realize that she had already played her previous move.

He simply hadn’t noticed.

The game clock was still running.

Except all that time, it had been his own clock counting down.

3:28… 3:27…

The seconds continued slipping away.

Nian Le quickly placed a stone, then looked up at his opponent’s remaining time.

His heart tightened.

They both understood the situation.

Three minutes…

There was no way to finish the current game with only three minutes left.

The Yixin Cup qualifiers used an absolute time control—once a player’s time ran out, they lost immediately.

Nian Le looked at the clock again.

He had 3 minutes and 26 seconds remaining.

His opponent still had 4 minutes and 32 seconds.

A gap of nearly one minute.

To professional Go players, it was already an insurmountable chasm.

The aunt clearly understood this as well.

She stopped spending time on careful analysis. Holding nearly a one-minute advantage, she began playing rapid moves and immediately hit the clock.

Now it was a gamble.

Whoever’s time expired first would lose.

Nian Le’s amber eyes remained calm.

Hundreds of Go boards seemed to line up inside his mind. Looking at the black stone his opponent had just played, he instantly located the corresponding variation.

He placed a white stone.

Only three seconds had passed.

The aunt’s eyes widened.

It felt as though she were holding a ticking bomb—there was no time to think. She could only respond instinctively, slap the clock, and throw the “bomb” back to the other side.

Nian Le had spent three seconds on his move.

The aunt was healthy, but age inevitably slowed her reflexes. Even though she barely thought at all, her move still took five seconds.

Nian Le immediately played again.

He pressed the clock.

Two seconds.

He had already calculated that if the pace remained roughly the same, the scales of victory would gradually begin tipping in his favor.

The aunt grew flustered.

Staring at his formation, she awkwardly placed another stone. Just as she reached to hit the clock, a hand wearing a white glove suddenly appeared.

It opened the control panel in the middle of the clock.

Then pressed pause.

In the middle of an intensely tense time scramble…

The game was suddenly stopped.

Nian Le and the aunt both froze and looked toward the newcomer.

It was the chief referee.

Behind him stood two patrol referees.

“Contestant Yang Xiufang,” the chief referee addressed the aunt with a stern expression.

“According to reports from our patrol referees, after reviewing the surveillance footage, we found that between 2:10 p.m. and 2:25 p.m., you coughed intermittently for nearly fifteen minutes. We have reasonable grounds to suspect that you seriously interfered with your opponent’s thinking.”

Several pairs of eyes turned toward Nian Le.

Only then did he realize…

She had actually been coughing for nearly fifteen minutes just to wake him up.

“Player Nian Le,” the chief referee asked solemnly, “is what we’ve said true?”

“According to the regulations, Player Yang Xiufang will receive either one warning or an immediate loss.”

As soon as those words fell, the aunt stood frozen.

She looked helpless, wanting to explain something, yet ultimately said nothing.

As she slowly lowered her head, the referees assumed she had accepted the punishment.

“She didn’t interfere with my thinking.”

Nian Le’s clear, gentle voice rang out.

He looked at the three referees, apology evident in his amber eyes.

“I accidentally fell asleep,” he said seriously. “Player Yang Xiufang was coughing because she was trying to wake me up. The fault lies with me. Please don’t punish her.”

“Fell asleep?”

The two patrol referees stared at him in disbelief, frowning.

Someone…

Had actually fallen asleep while playing in such a fiercely competitive tournament?

“Player Yang Xiufang,” the chief referee said, his expression softening after hearing the explanation, “if something like this happens again and you want to wake him, you should notify one of the patrol referees.”

“I… I’m sorry.”

The aunt looked at the young man with mixed emotions before turning back to the referees, desperately holding back tears.

“I haven’t participated in many tournaments. I’ve never encountered something like this before. I’m sorry. I’ll definitely remember next time!”

“And you.”

The chief referee turned to Nian Le.

Nian Le sat upright, his clear eyes meeting the referee’s.

“You’re still so young. Stop staying up all night. A tournament hall isn’t a place for you to sleep!” the chief referee scolded, apparently imagining exactly why the young man had dozed off.

“My apologies.”

Nian Le bowed his head slightly.

Seeing that both players had cooperative attitudes and since most of the nearby boards had already been cleared during that period, meaning no one else had been affected, the chief referee gave them both a few more words of reprimand.

Once he confirmed they were ready, he pressed the start button on the clock once more.

The aunt had already placed her move and pressed the clock. Nian Le responded immediately, pressing the clock again, maintaining the same astonishing efficiency as before.

The aunt stared at the board. The interruption and fright from earlier had completely thrown her thoughts into disarray.

After nearly half a minute, she finally made a move. Smiling bitterly, she pressed the clock and looked across the board.

The jade-like hand opposite her paused for a brief moment before reaching into the stone bowl.

When it emerged again, it held two smooth white stones, which were gently placed on the board’s edge.

The aunt froze.

The next second, she shot to her feet, staring at the young man before her in disbelief.

“If you hadn’t tried to remind me,” Nian Le said calmly, “I would have already lost.”

“You… weren’t really asleep just now, were you?” the aunt asked in a low voice, her expression complicated. “At first I didn’t notice, but later I saw the sweat on your forehead. You didn’t look well.”

Nian Le was silent for a moment before meeting her gaze.

“Could you keep this a secret for me?”

The Round of 32 was different from these qualifiers.

It used a byoyomi (overtime) time control, meaning the combined playing time could exceed seven hours.

Five hours, however, was the limit Nian Le had tested for himself.

If others discovered this weakness, every future opponent could simply drag the game out until he collapsed.

“Young man, you’ve already done me a favor before, and I know you’re someone with great ambitions.” Yang Xiufang’s eyes were filled with determination.

“I have a brain, and I have a conscience. I didn’t say anything to the referees just now, and I won’t say anything in the future. If I ever tell anyone about this, then may I lose the pension I’ve been paying into for over twenty years.”

Nian Le couldn’t help smiling.

For a woman in her fifties, there could hardly be a harsher oath.

When the round ended, a patrol referee walked over to their board.

Looking at White’s overwhelming advantage, then at the two white resignation stones resting on the board’s edge, he couldn’t help sighing inwardly.

If I’d known the aunt had only been coughing to wake the young man, I never would’ve intervened.

The chief referee’s arrival had frightened her badly, and afterward the young man had simply resigned instead of taking advantage of the situation.

He had lost with integrity.

By the seventh round of the tournament, Nian Le signed the loser confirmation form for the first time.

Yang Xiufang waited for him outside the venue. After making sure no one else was around, she lowered her voice.

“Young man, I know an excellent traditional Chinese doctor. Would you like to see him?”

“Could you give me his WeChat?” Nian Le asked warmly as he took out his phone, offering no further explanation.

After entering the doctor’s contact information, Nian Le looked at the profile picture.

It showed an elderly man sitting proudly in front of a wall full of honorary banners.

More importantly…

It was the WeChat nickname.

[AAA Jiangzhou Miracle Doctor—Specializing in Infertility]

Nian Le fell silent.

Under Yang Xiufang’s hopeful gaze, he quietly tapped Add Friend.

 

After seeing the aunt safely across the intersection, Nian Le rented one of the small green shared bicycles and rode back toward the villa.

His phone vibrated several times in his pocket.

It was probably the miracle doctor accepting his friend request.

Without taking out his phone, Nian Le simply kept his eyes on the road and pedaled steadily onward.

 

Huo Weiran stood by the window, staring outside.

No one knew how long he had been standing there.

The figure he was waiting for still hadn’t appeared.

His heart felt as though a piece were missing.

Compared to that emptiness, even the hunger in his stomach seemed insignificant.

Huo Weiran couldn’t remember when he had grown accustomed to Nian Le’s presence.

Whenever he imagined the two of them staying together for the rest of their lives, the future that had once seemed bleak gradually became filled with light.

A figure passed in front of the villa.

Looking through the gate, Huo Weiran watched carefully.

After two seconds of recognition, the light in his eyes dimmed.

It wasn’t him.

He checked the time.

For some reason, unease welled up inside him.

Placing a hand on the doorknob, Huo Weiran glanced at the world outside.

He turned back, put on his mask and cap, hesitated for a moment, then found a pair of gloves.

He kept the glove on his right hand.

Holding the opening of the other glove between his teeth, he slipped his left hand inside.

In that instant…

The memory of his “little wife” interlacing their fingers flooded back.

Unable to restrain himself any longer, Huo Weiran opened the door and stepped out of the villa that had imprisoned him for half a year.

It was as if the shackles around his heart had finally been broken from within.

He hurried across the courtyard.

Just as he raised his hand to open the front gate—

The gate opened first.

Nian Le looked up.

Seeing his younger fiancé completely covered from head to toe, he realized Huo Weiran seemed to be heading out, so he instinctively stepped aside to make room.

He waited.

And waited.

But Huo Weiran didn’t leave.

Meeting those gray eyes, Nian Le found them filled with emotions too complicated to describe.

He understood immediately.

Stepping into the courtyard, he greeted him gently.

“Going for a walk?”

Huo Weiran stumbled after him.

Watching his fiancé’s back, an inexplicable feeling of displeasure surged inside him.

He couldn’t even name it.

Nian Le entered the temporary passcode at the villa door.

When he looked back, Huo Weiran hadn’t followed.

His younger fiancé remained standing in the courtyard, deliberately turning his face away.

Seeing his behavior, an answer—one that seemed almost impossible—formed in Nian Le’s mind.

Glancing at the time, he realized this was indeed the latest he’d ever come home.

Was he… about to go out looking for me?

After closing the front door, Nian Le thought for a moment before walking over to Huo Weiran and looking up at him.

“I’m sorry for making you wait so long.”

Huo Weiran’s head tilted back slightly…

But he still didn’t fully turn around.

“Are you hungry?” Nian Le pursed his lips slightly. “I’ll make you four dishes and a soup to make it up to you.”

Huo Weiran’s gaze settled on him.

Still, he hadn’t quite turned to face him.

“If you want to go outside,” Nian Le continued sincerely, “after dinner I’ll take a walk around the neighborhood with you.”

“And I’ll comb your hair for you afterward.”

Huo Weiran finally looked at him.

He quickly walked over, suppressing the joy bubbling up inside him as he took his place beside his fiancé.

 

Nian Le prepared a few simple dishes using ingredients known to promote sleep.

Huo Weiran stayed by his side as his assistant, becoming increasingly adept at cooking one-handed.

During dinner, he ate unusually fast.

For the first time, he finished before Nian Le.

While the dishwasher hummed away, Nian Le tied Huo Weiran’s hair neatly and slowly changed into his shoes.

Huo Weiran stood fully geared up at the front door.

His face remained expressionless.

But his body language betrayed an eagerness he was trying very hard to suppress.

Nian Le was taking a walk around the villa community for the first time.

If no one told you it was a residential area, you’d think it was a park.

Nearly seventy percent of the grounds were covered in greenery, making the air exceptionally fresh. Nian Le looked out over the lake, where several swans were foraging on the water. There was even a pavilion by the shore, every bit of the tranquil elegance had been bought with money.

At this hour, there were few people around. Occasionally, a luxury car would glide quietly past. The residents were well-mannered, always slowing down when passing pedestrians.

Huo Weiran stayed pressed close against Nian Le’s side.

Having not stepped outside his familiar surroundings for so long, he was clearly lacking a sense of security. He had been eager to leave the house, but the moment they stepped beyond the villa gates, he clung tightly to Nian Le, every muscle in his body tense.

Huo Weiran was naturally tall and broad.

With him leaning over like that, Nian Le had to use about thirty percent of his strength just to keep walking.

An elderly man out for a stroll approached them, followed by a man and a woman who looked like a caretaker and a bodyguard. The old man curiously studied the young couple.

Huo Weiran lowered his head.

Knowing he was afraid of being recognized, Nian Le reached up and gently pulled the brim of his cap a little lower.

Huo Weiran understood the unspoken invitation.

This was the first time he had ever gone on a date with his fiancé.

Even if their “date” was only within the residential complex, it was already a major breakthrough for both of them.

He couldn’t even remember the last time he had willingly left the villa.

Yet this time, the outside world felt surprisingly peaceful.

There was no piercing noise.

No suffocating stares.

As though trying to help him adjust to the environment, Nian Le deliberately walked at an extremely slow pace.

So this is what a date feels like.

Relaxed.

Comfortable.

Quietly gentle.

Although Huo Weiran’s expression remained calm, his body unconsciously stayed tense. He lowered his head and drifted even closer to Nian Le, while the ears beneath the straps of his mask slowly turned red.

A long, jade-like hand suddenly reached up and gently adjusted the brim of his cap again.

Only then did Huo Weiran realize someone was walking past.

It was merely another elderly resident.

The old man seemed unaccustomed to seeing young couples on dates and couldn’t help staring with open curiosity.

Although the attention was excessive, Huo Weiran was surprised to find that he didn’t dislike it in the slightest.

If anything…

He felt a small sense of happiness.

It was Nian Le, on the other hand, who seemed worried that the stranger’s gaze would pressure him. Quietly and thoughtfully, he lowered Huo Weiran’s cap so he wouldn’t have to see it.

Warmth quietly spread through Huo Weiran’s heart.

He imagined those moments he had feared the most—after retiring because of his injury, surrounded by reporters demanding answers.

If Nian Le had been beside him…

Perhaps even those memories wouldn’t have seemed so frightening.

The two of them strolled along the lakeside walkway.

It was around four or five in the afternoon.

A warm breeze drifted through the air. Sunlight shimmered across the rippling lake, reflecting bright patches onto the roof of the corridor, making the surrounding flowers and greenery look especially vibrant.

Nian Le, however, was beginning to struggle.

At first, he’d only needed about thirty percent of his strength to support Huo Weiran leaning against him.

As Huo Weiran gradually edged even closer…

That had become fifty percent.

His arm was practically pinned against his own side.

“Let’s sit down for a while.”

Without waiting for Huo Weiran to answer, Nian Le quickly sat on a bench beside the walkway, discreetly moving the arm that had gone numb from being squeezed.

Huo Weiran immediately sat beside him.

Following Nian Le’s gaze, he looked toward the swans on the lake.

There were many swans.

Among them was a pair of mates, their necks lovingly entwined.

Huo Weiran lowered his gray eyes.

His peripheral vision drifted toward Nian Le.

Only then did he understand why Nian Le had chosen this place to rest.

In the past, Nian Le had always been the one to start conversations and bring the two of them closer.

Huo Weiran wanted to change that.

Remembering how unusually late Nian Le had returned today, he awkwardly attempted to start a conversation.

“Did your match go well today?”

Nian Le quietly watched the calm lake.

“It went fairly well.”

“How many stones did you win by?”

Over the past few days, Huo Weiran had been studying the basics of Go.

It was his fiancé’s favorite hobby.

If they shared the same interests, they’d have more to talk about.

“I lost.”

Nian Le’s expression didn’t change.

Huo Weiran paused.

The congratulations he’d prepared silently disappeared back down his throat.

For a moment, neither of them spoke.

He had no idea how to comfort him.

The surroundings were so quiet that they could almost hear the wind rustling through the leaves.

Although he’d never played Go, Huo Weiran knew plenty of race car drivers.

When they won, they credited their own skill.

When they lost, they blamed the car.

The weather.

The organizers.

There were always a hundred excuses and a thousand people to fault.

Everyone knew Huo Weiran had always been indifferent to such excuses.

On the racetrack, a win was a win.

A loss was a loss.

No unnecessary conditions.

Only victory and defeat within the boundaries of rules and sportsmanship.

But this time…

The one who had lost…

Was Nian Le.

Huo Weiran pondered for a long time before finally looking at the person beside him and speaking awkwardly.

“I once heard a Chinese song that says…”

“No matter victory or defeat, life is bold—it’s only a matter of starting over.”

Hearing the almost sung words of comfort from his younger fiancé, Nian Le turned to look at him.

After a long moment…

The corners of his lips lifted into a smile.

“You don’t have to comfort me.”

He turned back toward the far side of the lake.

His amber eyes remained clear, though a sharp glint flashed through them.

“If I can afford to win…”

“Then I can also afford to lose.”

Huo Weiran stared at Nian Le’s profile.

He had such a gentle, refined face.

Yet whenever he spoke about victory and defeat, that gentle temperament transformed into a sword waiting to be unsheathed.

A gleaming blade beneath frost.

A gentleman as flawless as jade.

The quiet lakeside scenery wasn’t where he belonged.

Nor was the Huo family’s modest three-story villa his final destination.

Several swans lifted their necks and cried out across the lake.

The sound brought Huo Weiran back to his senses.

He looked toward the water again.

Yet his gaze kept unconsciously lingering on the person beside him.

“Shall we head back?”

Noticing that Huo Weiran seemed ready to lean against him again, Nian Le stood and suggested.

It wasn’t that he didn’t want to make him feel safe.

But if Huo Weiran were just a little smaller…

Or a little lighter…

Nian Le wouldn’t have had such a hard time supporting him.

Huo Weiran stood as well.

Pressing close against Nian Le once more, the two of them walked back to the villa side by side, their bodies naturally leaning toward one another with every step.

Back home, Nian Le rubbed his sore arm before going to the guest room to rest. After a short nap, he went downstairs to prepare dinner.

Meanwhile, Huo Weiran came out of the third-floor gym and cautiously exercised his right upper arm, determined not to let the cast leave one arm noticeably thinner than the other and ruin his physique.

The soup was the only dish left to finish.

As Nian Le stood at the kitchen counter, Huo Weiran quietly walked over and naturally leaned closer to his fiancé.

He had just finished showering. The tips of his curly hair were still damp, and the rich fragrance of body wash lingered faintly around him.

The aroma of the food was gradually overtaken by a clean, woody scent.

A sudden coolness brushed Nian Le’s shoulder.

Turning his head, he saw water dripping from the ends of Huo Weiran’s hair. Because Huo Weiran was leaning toward him, the droplets landed squarely on his shoulder.

Nian Le glanced at Huo Weiran’s profile.

After a moment of silence, he quietly stepped to the side.

Without a word, Huo Weiran followed and leaned against him again.

Nian Le paused for two seconds.

They’re not even outside anymore.

He shouldn’t be feeling this insecure at home.

He tried moving two steps farther away.

The next moment, Huo Weiran followed again.

As his body shifted, more water from his damp curls splashed onto Nian Le.

Why does he keep avoiding me?

Sensing that Nian Le had moved away once again, Huo Weiran slowly straightened up.

He took a step to the side, lowered his eyes, and remained silent.

So this is what an arranged marriage without any emotional foundation is like.

Outside, they could cling to each other all they wanted.

They had to put on a convincing act for others.

But at home…

They were expected to treat each other politely and keep a respectful distance.

Nian Le looked at the damp patch on his shoulder.

He had been about to ask why Huo Weiran hadn’t dried his hair.

But when he met those lowered gray eyes…

Then noticed the cast on his arm…

The words died in his throat.

Drying your hair with only one hand really wasn’t easy.

Nian Le sighed quietly.

He turned the heat down under the soup, went upstairs to the second floor, and came back with a dry towel.

Huo Weiran was still standing exactly where he’d been, expressionlessly staring at the soup pot.

Standing beside him, Nian Le gently rubbed the towel through his damp hair, drying away the remaining moisture.

Before long, half the towel was soaked.

Only then did Nian Le realize just how absurdly well naturally curly hair retained water.

Huo Weiran’s thick hair had always been enviable.

Even after getting it trimmed, it was still impressively full.

When Nian Le lowered the towel, Huo Weiran turned his head.

Their eyes met.

Then Huo Weiran noticed the dampness on Nian Le’s shoulder.

Only then did he realize…

That was why Nian Le had kept moving away.

Nian Le set the wet towel aside and returned to checking the soup.

After standing quietly for a while, Huo Weiran shifted his gaze…

…and slowly leaned against him again.

Nian Le took a deep breath.

Silently, he accepted his fate.

Is this… another symptom of adolescence?

He actually preferred how Huo Weiran used to keep a cold, guarded distance from him.

Using wet hair to sprinkle water on him…

Then repeatedly leaning against him…

What kind of tactic was this supposed to be?

Seeing that Nian Le no longer moved away, delight quietly flickered beneath Huo Weiran’s eyes.

He edged even closer to his fiancé.

 

The next day was the final round of the qualifiers.

Nian Le prepared breakfast ingredients in advance.

The following morning, he woke an hour earlier than usual to finish cooking, then picked the most handsome-looking little green shared bicycle waiting outside the villa community.

The strength of this year’s competitors was impressive.

A record of six wins out of eight rounds would likely not be enough to guarantee a place in the top thirty-two.

If he wanted to qualify safely…

Today’s match could only end in victory.

Defeat wasn’t an option.

Walking into the tournament hall, Nian Le rubbed his shoulder.

He could immediately sense that today’s atmosphere was different.

It was the last round of the qualifiers.

Every player had steeled themselves, ready to compete with complete concentration.

Instinctively straightening his back, Nian Le walked over to the pairing board and searched for his name.

Board Thirty-Two.

White. Playing second.

Opponent… Cheng Xu?

Nian Le raised an eyebrow in surprise.

Just then, a familiar voice sounded beside him.

“Heaven really does have eyes.”

Cheng Xu had arrived early with several of his followers.

They were all wearing the uniforms of Mianhai Go Academy.

His smile was as arrogant and mocking as ever.

“So, Amateur Third Dan,” Cheng Xu sneered. “I heard you lost yesterday—to that old lady. I’m honestly happy for you.”

After glancing over the pairings for the entire venue, Nian Le turned slightly and smiled faintly at today’s opponent.

His final opponent in the qualifiers.

“What are you smiling at?” Cheng Xu folded his arms smugly, his jacket draped over his shoulders.

“See this? This is what you get for standing up for other people.

“You picked a fight with us because of her, but when she played against you, she didn’t show any mercy.

“When money and personal gain are involved, do you really think the favor you did for her means a damn thing?”

Nian Le’s clear eyes remained calm.

He simply walked toward his assigned board.

“Hey, don’t run!” Cheng Xu hurried after him, his voice dripping with ridicule.

“I’ve already analyzed all your games.

“First, you beat a little girl.

“Then you beat some scrap collector and another amateur.

“I’ve got to admit, your luck’s incredible.

“You even managed to narrowly beat that First Dan pro from Chunxiao Go Academy.

“Then, when you finally ran into someone genuinely strong—Third Dan Chi Mianmian—she happened to show up late and wasn’t feeling well.

“You got lucky again.

“I thought you were actually impressive.

“But yesterday, one old lady exposed you completely!”

The more Cheng Xu spoke, the more excited he became.

“You made one of my buddies cry at the board before.

“Now that you’ve fallen into my hands, you’d better be prepared to cry yourself.

“I’ll show you what a real professional Go player looks like.

“After today, every time you touch a bowl of stones, you’ll remember this game.

“You’ll remember me—Cheng Xu.”

Nian Le calmly took his seat.

Looking across the board, he listened without expression.

“I’m telling you,” Cheng Xu continued, “back at the hotel, it wasn’t that I couldn’t beat that old fossil.

“I just couldn’t be bothered wasting my time.

“Even though I train at Mianhai Academy, I took a master long ago.

“You’ve heard the saying ‘Northern Lin, Southern Jin,’ right?

“The two legends of the Go world?

“One of their personal disciples even gave me instruction…”

Cheng Xu rambled on endlessly.

Nian Le checked the time.

For the first time, he questioned why he’d arrived so early.

Seeing that Nian Le’s mind had clearly wandered elsewhere, Cheng Xu let out a scornful laugh.

“Forget it.

“I almost forgot you’re just an amateur.

“You wouldn’t understand any of this.

“I’m only wasting my breath.

“Today’s game is destined to become your nightmare.

“If you’ve got any backbone, don’t start crying halfway through and resign.”

Nian Le adjusted the game clock before speaking in an even tone.

“You keep calling yourself a professional.”

“Did you pass the professional qualification exam?”

Cheng Xu choked on his words.

Remembering that he’d missed earning professional status by just one place, he gritted his teeth.

“What do you know?

“The professional qualification tournament in Go is even harder than the college entrance exam!

“I only missed it by one rank!

“It wasn’t my skill that lost—it was my luck!”

“Was it?”

Nian Le looked directly at him.

“Or was it because you talk too much?”

“What does qualifying as a professional have to do with me being talkative? I—”

Cheng Xu froze.

He suddenly realized what Nian Le had implied.

His eyes immediately flared with anger.

He actually called me talkative?!

Cheng Xu slammed his hand on the table and shot to his feet.

At that exact moment, the chief referee announced the start of the match. A patrol referee noticed the player suddenly standing up and started walking over.

Cheng Xu quickly sat back down.

He forced his anger down, his face twisting with suppressed rage.

Nian Le remained as calm as ever.

He pressed the game clock.

Grinding his teeth, Cheng Xu picked up a black stone and slammed it onto the very center of the board—

Tengen.

Nian Le looked up at him and saw the wild arrogance written across his face.

There was an old saying in Go:

“Corners are worth gold, sides are worth silver, the center is worth grass.”

The opening move is usually played in the upper-right corner, the easiest place for Black to reach. Doing so also leaves White the most natural opening point, making it one of the basic courtesies of the game—a gesture symbolizing respect and friendship.

Opening at Tengen, the exact center of the board, was also a legitimate strategy.

It wasn’t necessarily a bad move.

But it was extremely difficult to handle.

Cheng Xu’s move, however, had nothing to do with strategy.

It was simply a deliberate insult.

Quietly, Nian Le picked up a white stone and placed it on the upper-right star point before calmly pressing the clock.

Cheng Xu snorted.

Seeing that his opponent hadn’t been provoked in the slightest, he made his move while muttering under his breath,

“Trash.”

Nian Le calmly picked up another white stone and continued occupying the corners.

His rhythm remained perfectly steady.

That single opening at Tengen had compressed Black’s initiative again and again.

Worse still, Cheng Xu failed to build any meaningful follow-up.

White’s formation became increasingly elegant and fluid.

Its attacks flowed naturally.

Black’s responses grew increasingly forced.

His overall position could only be described as…

A complete mess.

 

Half an hour later, the game had entered the middle game.

While players at the surrounding boards were still locked in fierce tactical battles…

Nian Le’s board had already reached its conclusion.

White’s stones swept across the board like a drawn sword.

A massive Black dragon had been cut down.

Vast territories belonged to White.

The advantage was unmistakable.

Normally…

A player would have resigned long ago.

Cheng Xu clenched a black stone tightly.

He stared at the board without blinking.

Sweat streamed down his forehead, yet he didn’t even notice.

How is this possible?

It’s only been thirty minutes!

Too fast…

Several times, he’d played moves that reflected his true level.

Yet every single one had been effortlessly dismantled.

It was as if his opponent could see the future.

No matter what Cheng Xu tried, Nian Le always held the initiative.

He felt less like an aspiring professional…

And more like a child who had only recently learned the rules of Go, completely unable to fight back against an adult.

The last time he’d experienced such utter helplessness…

Was when he was a child at a taekwondo gym.

Back then, there had been a young black-belt instructor.

Thinking the instructor looked young and easy to bully, Cheng Xu had deliberately disrupted class and repeatedly provoked him.

The instructor hadn’t said a single word.

But after class…

He found Cheng Xu.

Cheng Xu no longer remembered the beating itself.

He only remembered waking up beside a dumpster.

He cried all the way home…

Where his father beat him again without asking any questions.

After spending a long time recovering, Cheng Xu never practiced taekwondo again.

Instead…

He learned Go.

Until today.

Large drops of sweat rolled down his forehead.

His eyes drifted to the lone black stone sitting at Tengen.

Somehow…

He could almost feel his opponent’s gaze resting upon him.

Heavy.

Questioning.

The meaning couldn’t have been clearer.

You dared to play Tengen…

So why couldn’t you win?

You’re truly…

A loser among losers.

Cheng Xu swallowed hard.

For the first time, he regretted opening at Tengen.

If I could start over…

If I’d simply taken the upper-right corner…

Maybe… I wouldn’t have lost this badly.

As one of the better-known players at Mianhai Go Academy, Cheng Xu hadn’t lost control of his emotions during a game in a very long time.

Yet now…

His nose stung.

To his horror, even in the imaginary rematches playing out inside his mind…

He wasn’t thinking about how to win.

Only…

How to lose by less.

Not once did he truly believe he could defeat the person sitting across from him.

No matter how unwilling he was to admit it…

The truth was obvious.

He couldn’t win.

No matter what he did…

He couldn’t win.

All the arrogant words he’d spoken before the match had become the greatest joke of all.

Even resigning now felt like a luxury beyond his reach.

Yet continuing to play…

He no longer possessed the courage to fight.

His hand moved only from muscle memory.

He placed another black stone.

Pressed the clock.

Wiped the sweat from his face.

He didn’t dare look up.

Across from him…

Long, jade-white fingers slipped into the stone bowl.

Pink fingertips delicately picked up a white stone.

Without haste…

Without emotion…

Nian Le placed it onto the board.

Click.

The crisp sound was like thunder exploding on level ground.

It crashed directly into Cheng Xu’s heart.

It felt like death by a thousand cuts.

Every move his opponent played sliced away another piece of him.

Yet there wasn’t the slightest urgency in Nian Le’s movements.

Each stone was placed calmly…

Elegantly…

As though he were quietly savoring the fear and collapse of his prey.

A patrol referee also noticed the game.

The young man in Mianhai Go Academy’s uniform was deathly pale.

His entire body trembled uncontrollably.

Sweat poured endlessly from his forehead.

He looked nothing like the smug, overconfident player who had started the match.

The referee walked over, intending to ask whether he was feeling unwell.

But remembering yesterday’s incident, he slowed down first and looked at the board.

Just two glances…

Were enough.

This wasn’t a physical problem.

White already held an overwhelming advantage.

Black’s occasional little counterattacks disappeared like stones tossed into the sea, swallowed without leaving even a ripple.

There was virtually no reason to continue playing.

Yet Black still refused to resign.

The referee glanced at the nameplate.

He realized that Player Cheng Xu probably wanted to resign…

But he had already lost even that chance to save himself.

All he could do now was struggle miserably beneath the sting of his own salty sweat.

Cheng Xu had no idea how he finished the game.

He only remembered the referee counting the stones afterward.

The referee’s eyes were filled with shock.

Matches at this level rarely ended with losses of dozens of points.

Yet this game…

Black had lost by well over one hundred points.

Defeats of over a hundred points usually happened only between very young children or amateurs below Third Dan.

To witness something like this in a professional qualifying tournament…

Was almost unbelievable.

The referee watched as the losing player signed the confirmation form.

Cheng Xu’s hand shook so violently that it took him two or three attempts before he managed to write his own name.

Even then…

His signature was twisted beyond recognition.

“Bro! Did you crush him?”

Several of Cheng Xu’s followers rushed over as he emerged from the tournament hall, asking excitedly.

Cheng Xu’s breathing was uneven.

His eyes instinctively avoided theirs.

Their expressions of admiration made it impossible for him to open his mouth.

The crushing weight of that game still pressed against his chest.

He could barely breathe.

“What kind of question is that?” one of his sycophantic followers answered before Cheng Xu could speak.

“Our Brother Cheng could never lose!

“That Amateur Third Dan was no match for him!”

Hearing those words…

Cheng Xu only felt his face burn even hotter.

“That’s right!” several of the younger boys chimed in, clearly remembering the confident analysis Cheng Xu had given before entering the playing hall.

“He’s just some amateur scrub who couldn’t even beat an old lady! How could he possibly beat our boss?”

Cheng Xu closed his eyes.

His heart felt ice-cold.

“Didn’t this big brother lose?”

A little girl carrying a small notebook walked out of the tournament hall. Hearing their conversation, she couldn’t help asking curiously.

“Don’t you know? He lost by more than a hundred points. He even set a record!”

The lively atmosphere came to an abrupt halt.

Cheng Xu remained silent, wishing the ground would open up and swallow him whole.

His followers, however, became even more indignant, their voices growing louder.

“Quit talking nonsense, you little brat! There’s no way our boss lost by over a hundred points!”

The commotion instantly attracted the attention of many players outside the venue.

“It’s true!” the little girl insisted stubbornly, clutching her notebook. “If you don’t believe me, ask him yourself.”

She was about to say more when several boys approached angrily, one of them already rolling up his sleeves.

The girl froze in fear, gripping her notebook tightly.

Then she remembered what she’d just asked one of the referee uncles.

Immediately, she straightened her back.

“I’m not lying! If you dare touch me, I’ll tell my grandpa!”

“Your grandpa? Even your ancestors won’t save you!” one of the boys sneered, reaching for her notebook.

Just then—

“Hey!”

A sharp shout rang out.

Two referees rushed over with several security guards and immediately subdued the boys.

Before anyone else could react, the disturbance had already been brought under control.

Only then did the young man standing behind the security guards come into view.

With his usual gentle expression, Nian Le quietly stepped forward, took the little girl with him, and led her away from the commotion.

 

Outside the tournament building, Nian Le walked down the steps with the little girl.

She was clutching his sleeve so tightly it refused to budge.

“Big Brother, do you remember me? My name is Xueqi.”

Her bright black eyes blinked eagerly, her little face overflowing with happiness.

“I remember you.”

Nian Le replied warmly.

He tried to gently free his sleeve.

After several attempts…

He failed.

“Big Brother, please wait a little. My grandpa wants to meet you.”

Xueqi continued gripping his sleeve tightly while looking around anxiously.

“I replayed the game we played for Grandpa. He wanted to meet you right away, but he was afraid of disturbing your tournament, so he’s waited until now.”

Nian Le raised an eyebrow slightly.

The game she was referring to was their very first one—a teaching game.

Perhaps her family had recognized his goodwill during that match and simply wanted to thank him.

That was perfectly understandable.

“Why isn’t Grandpa here yet?”

Still holding tightly onto Nian Le’s sleeve, Xueqi pouted while waiting for the car, completely unaware that a large group of people was approaching from behind.

Nian Le turned around.

The first thing he saw…

Was the uniform of Mianhai Go Academy.

The boys from earlier had apparently been released.

Cheng Xu walked among them with his head lowered.

Leading the group was a middle-aged man whose sharp eyes immediately gave off the impression that he wasn’t someone easy to deal with.

Nian Le quietly guided Xueqi behind him.

Then he calmly faced the approaching crowd.

“I’m Lu An, the coach leading Mianhai Go Academy’s team at this year’s Yixin Cup.”

The middle-aged man’s objective was obvious.

Looking at Nian Le, he forced out a smile that never reached his eyes.

“I’ve just heard what happened between you and my students.”

“On behalf of them, I’d like to apologize for their previous behavior.”

Hearing the completely insincere apology…

Nian Le smiled faintly.

“‘Failure to discipline students is the teacher’s negligence.'”

“You really should apologize.”

Lu An choked on his words.

After so many years in the profession, this was the first time a junior had lectured him like that.

Remembering the recording his students had mentioned, he suppressed his irritation and forced another smile.

“You’re Nian Le, right?”

“I think you’re quite talented.”

“You may be a little older than most candidates, but…”

“Our Mianhai Go Academy is willing to give you a spot.”

“You can train with us and challenge the professional qualification exam. Become a real professional Go player.”

Mianhai Go Academy was well-known within the Go community.

Admission requirements were notoriously strict.

To simply hand someone a place like this…

For an ordinary amateur player, it was an opportunity most people could only dream of.

Smiling gently, Nian Le slowly took out his phone.

Lu An frowned.

He realized that the young man had already seen through the bait.

“If I joined Mianhai Go Academy…”

Nian Le asked calmly,

“…you’d ask me to delete that recording, wouldn’t you?”

“If you become one of our students, then our honor and disgrace become one.”

Lu An kept his eyes fixed on the phone, speaking in the patient tone of a teacher offering guidance.

“You’d naturally have to consider the academy’s future.”

“This is your only opportunity.”

“If you miss it…”

“You’ll regret it for the rest of your life.”

“Unfortunately…”

Nian Le smiled as he put his phone away.

He glanced at a car that had just pulled over nearby before gently stopping Xueqi from wandering over.

“…I have no intention of joining Mianhai Go Academy.”

“If you want to negotiate…”

“Send your academy director.”

“You…”

He looked at Lu An with a polite smile.

“…aren’t qualified.”

The moment those words left his mouth, every student behind Lu An widened their eyes.

Although Lu An was “only” an academy coach…

He had taught for many years and was also a professional Third Dan player.

No one had ever dared tell him to his face…

That he wasn’t qualified.

Even Lu An nearly exploded with rage.

“If our director came…”

he asked through clenched teeth,

“…what exactly would you have to say?”

Nian Le’s expression remained gentle.

“Your academy has thirteen students competing in the Yixin Cup.”

“I’ve been paying attention to every one of their pairings…”

“…and every result afterward.”

“If I haven’t misread the situation…”

“You’ve reached agreements with at least two other players.”

“You’ve been manipulating your students’ wins and losses behind the scenes.”

“You’ve ignored their futures…”

“…all to ensure that people connected to your own interests could advance into the Top Thirty-Two.”

The students behind Lu An all stiffened.

Shock filled several pairs of eyes.

Mixed with it…

Was obvious resentment and unwillingness.

At the beginning…

None of them had wanted to form cliques or play politics.

They had only wanted to play Go.

But reality proved far dirtier than they had imagined.

To the people in charge…

Their talent.

Their skill.

Neither truly mattered.

What mattered…

Was maximizing profits.

Throwing games.

Using AI to cheat.

If they were told to lose, they had to lose.

If they were ordered to win, they had to win by any means necessary.

Little by little…

Their focus shifted away from Go itself…

And toward the ugly realities of self-interest.

“Utter nonsense!”

Lu An barked furiously.

Yet his fists had already clenched unconsciously.

“If you continue spreading these lies…”

“Don’t blame us for what happens next!”

“Whether I’m lying or not…”

Nian Le replied with the same gentle smile,

“…the organizers are welcome to investigate.”

“I can even provide the names of the players who are suspected of making those deals with you.”

He looked at Lu An calmly.

“Would you like to test that?”

Lu An’s expression gradually darkened.

His gaze shifted briefly to Cheng Xu before returning to Nian Le.

“Go ahead and let them investigate,” Lu An said, staring at him with unwavering hostility.

“Today, Cheng Xu played a game against you. I can provide a witness and claim that you made a deal with me as well.”

“If you’re trying to drag me down…”

“Don’t expect to walk away with your own reputation intact.”

“A person with a clear conscience has nothing to fear.”

Nian Le’s expression remained calm.

“The organizers will naturally discover that I’m innocent.”

“Naive.”

Lu An almost laughed.

“I’ve been in this circle for years.”

“You’re just an Amateur Third Dan with no money and no connections.”

“When the time comes, who do you think they’ll believe?”

“Me…”

“…or you?”

“If you dare report me today…”

His voice turned cold.

“Believe it or not, I’ll make sure you never compete in another tournament.”

“You’ll never even have the chance to touch another Go stone.”

The moment Lu An finished speaking—

A car that had quietly pulled up beside them suddenly made a sound.

The rear door opened.

A middle-aged man stepped out first.

The moment he saw Lu An, his expression darkened.

The car door opened again.

The middle-aged man immediately hurried forward to help someone out.

An elderly man slowly stepped down from the car, leaning on a walking stick.

Though advanced in age, his face carried an unmistakable dignity and authority.

“Impressive.”

The old man’s voice was calm but heavy with meaning.

“Very impressive indeed, Professional Third Dan Lu An.”

 

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