Chapter 92 – The Chess Battle

“He has his eye on me?”

“Not exactly,” Li Baimao said bluntly, “He just finds you an eyesore.”

Zhan Changfeng hadn’t even asked yet, but Li Baimao was already rattling off like spilled beans. “You have no idea — he’s Teacher Qin’s most devoted admirer. You came here and clashed with Teacher Qin on your very first day, and then made a spectacle of yourself in front of him, so of course he remembered you.”

Zhan Changfeng considered this carefully. “If I recall correctly, ‘making a spectacle of yourself’ is a derogatory phrase.”

“Ah, is it?” Li Baimao thought about it for a moment, seemingly unable to work it out, and casually said, “It just means you made quite an impression on Teacher Qin, and now he’s jealous.”

The opponent Li Baimao had abandoned came chasing after him and kicked him in the backside. “Idiot, how have you not been stuffed in a sack yet? Bad enough that you insulted two people in one breath, but then you had to go and rephrase it.”

Han Zhigao pressed down on Li Baimao’s head and apologized to Zhan Changfeng, then said, “Yu Zhihuai is a bit petty when it comes to Teacher Qin, but he’s not a bad person. You don’t need to pay him any mind.”

Li Baimao nodded like a pecking chicken. “Exactly, exactly. Besides, the person he resents most is Yu Sheng anyway.”

Nearby, Yu Sheng, who had been playing chess with someone, paused her hand. She was probably going to go look into the price of sacks.

Sure enough, the foolish boy elaborated dramatically, “Yu Zhihuai has always wanted to take Teacher Qin as his master, but Teacher Qin took on Yu Sheng instead. He was so consumed with wanting what he couldn’t have that, unable to go and beg Teacher Qin, he’s been making things difficult for our Sister with all sorts of pretexts every few days.”

“Oh,” Zhan Changfeng’s attention seemed to drift elsewhere. “Is Teacher Qin very impressive?”

This time, not just Li Baimao, but Han Zhigao and Wang Xi as well stared at her in astonishment, as though she had just crawled out from some remote corner of the world.

Li Baimao nudged Yu Sheng. “Stop playing, there’s someone here who doesn’t even know who your teacher is!”

Yu Sheng smiled. “Shut up.”

Li Baimao paid no heed. “Former chief cultural inspector of the Council of Elders, the foremost Confucian scholar of this era — the comprehensive history of Cangyun Ravine was compiled under his editorship.”

This time even Zhan Changfeng was slightly surprised, though she didn’t dwell on it and instead asked, “Does the afternoon only cover calligraphy and chess?”

“Courses related to cultivation are generally held in the morning. The afternoon is mainly for humanities practice. As for the evenings, that depends on each teacher’s arrangements.”

Yu Sheng placed her final chess piece and produced a sheet of paper. “This is the basic schedule for the next seven days. You can take note of it, but there’s no guarantee some teacher won’t suddenly get inspired and throw in something unexpected.”

Zhan Changfeng expressed her thanks.

When Yu Sheng drew her hand back, she caught a glimpse of the situation on the chessboard, and her eyes stirred slightly. She smiled. “Shall we play a game?”

Zhan Changfeng set the paper aside and pressed it down with an ink stone weight. “I would be delighted.”

Wang Xi quickly rose and gave up his seat. He knew his earlier win had been a fluke, and that his true skill was far inferior to Zhan Changfeng’s. He was therefore quite eager to watch Yu Sheng probe this person’s real ability.

Yu Sheng had barely risen from her seat when Yu Zhihuai came over. “You’re done? I’ll play this round with you.”

Li Baimao blurted out, “What are you, a dog? Always lurking around waiting to pounce on people.”

“Crude and foolish creature.” Yu Zhihuai couldn’t be bothered to speak to him, only tilting his chin up to look at Yu Sheng.

Yu Sheng’s delicate brows furrowed slightly. “My chess skills are lacking. Find someone else.”

“You don’t dare?”

“At best you and Yu Sheng are evenly matched, so what’s there to be afraid of—” Li Baimao hadn’t finished speaking before Han Zhigao clapped a hand over his mouth.

Han Zhigao sometimes truly wished he could sew Li Baimao’s mouth shut. He always managed to do harm with the best of intentions.

By nature Yu Sheng was not one to accumulate grudges with people, yet there was always a Li Baimao pouring oil on the fire. In order to protect him, Yu Sheng had clashed with Yu Zhihuai time and again, and the conflict had already spread from academics into daily life.

Yu Zhihuai had a whole following of supporters who would come to stir up trouble every few days. Li Baimao could throw it all back at them without a care, unbothered — but how was Yu Sheng to face windows smashed in the dead of night, snakes and rats suddenly appearing in her home?

The three of them were always together at the academy, facing everything side by side, so it seemed like nothing was too difficult. Had Han Zhigao not come home late one evening and stumbled upon Yu Sheng wandering alone outside, he would never have known what she was dealing with once she left the academy.

Yu Sheng was unwilling to make things bigger. Han Zhigao, beyond his righteous indignation, was powerless, and could only follow Yu Sheng’s decision.

Yu Sheng chose to yield, to defuse and let things pass quietly. So Han Zhigao helped keep Li Baimao’s mouth shut. He was certain that Li Baimao’s next sentence was going to be that Yu Sheng had already arranged to play chess with Zhan Changfeng — and without even needing to think about it, Yu Zhihuai would surely go and challenge Zhan Changfeng.

Whether Zhan Changfeng won or lost, neither outcome was good. If she lost, the difference in ability would be plain for all to see, and her reputation would suffer. Yu Zhihuai would trample over her and then go challenge Yu Sheng again.

If she won, then she would be the next one ambushed on her way home, the next one with her windows smashed in.

So with her very first words, Yu Sheng had carefully set Zhan Changfeng aside, not mentioning a single thing about playing chess with her.

They could make their scene — Zhan Changfeng said nothing. A faint, meaningless smile played at the corner of her lips as she picked up the dozen or so chess pieces that had been cleared away and placed them back on the board one by one, exactly as they had been.

At that moment Yu Zhihuai said, “It’s not that you don’t dare — what, are you looking down on me?”

Yu Zhihuai’s relentless, dogged attitude was truly exhausting. Yu Sheng recalled that she had once obliquely raised this matter with Teacher Qin.

Teacher Qin had replied, “Rivalry among the young is a common thing. Contending is also a form of progress.”

He had made it plain that he would not intervene. Yet this “contending” was likely not contending in any real sense — at least not for her. It was better described as a pointless entanglement.

Yu Zhihuai was forcing her to admit that she was inferior to him.

But was that even possible?

Yu Sheng was just about to agree to the match when a voice cut in from the side. “That friend with the surname Yu — I’ve heard you’re a master of the chessboard. Do you dare play a game with me?”

Yu Zhihuai was displeased. Who was this with such poor judgment, coming to spoil things? His gaze sharpened, and he forced aside Han Zhigao, who was half-intentionally, half-accidentally blocking Zhan Changfeng, then looked down at that reckless new student. “An unknown nobody — what qualifications do you have?”

Zhan Changfeng was never in the habit of looking up at people. She sat there without even glancing at Yu Zhihuai, toying with the black and white pieces in her hand and said, “Then you don’t dare.”

No need for a question — just a firm, conclusive statement.

Yu Zhihuai gave a cold laugh, his gaze sweeping past Yu Sheng. “Very well. I’ll do a good deed and help someone return to reality. A clay jar from the fields gilded in gold still cannot stand in a great hall.”

Upon hearing this, Yu Sheng pressed her lips together. Her clear eyes deepened slightly, and she displayed a sharpness that was rarely seen in her, speaking one word at a time: “A caged bird, even freed from its master, still looks back at its cage.”

The atmosphere instantly became as tense as drawn bows and loaded crossbows, even though most of the onlookers had no idea what was being implied.

Zhan Changfeng said with a smile, “I see both of you are brimming with fighting spirit. Why not use this endgame of mine to settle the matter?”

Wang Xi instinctively looked at the chessboard. A few pieces had been removed from it, and the game which had clearly already been decided moments ago had, with the absence of just two pieces, become perfectly balanced again. How on earth had she done that?

She shifted to one side, making room. “Yu Sheng.”

Sister, you’ve stirred up quite the situation. Han Zhigao thought miserably to himself — there was no backing out of this now.

Yu Sheng lowered her gaze to look at her. Zhan Changfeng was sitting casually cross-legged, one knee bent upward, a hand resting carelessly on it. That hand seemed as though it had been enchanted — the black and white pieces rotated and danced between her distinct, slender fingers without ever falling.

She tilted her head slightly. “Come.”

Cool and unhurried, leaving no room for refusal.

Yu Sheng knelt and sat down. Their hems overlapped, and she caught a trace of a scent so faint it was almost imperceptible — cold and secluded, like the water of a clear mountain spring.

“You didn’t have to get involved. This has nothing to do with you.” Yu Sheng said quietly.

Zhan Changfeng shifted into a cross-legged sit and straightened her robes. Yu Sheng raised her eyes, and in those irises that were so close she could almost touch them, she saw half seriousness and half teasing.

“Hush, listen.” Zhan Changfeng’s lowered voice was slightly husky, carrying a certain air of mystery. “If a bowstring is pulled too taut, it will snap.”

Across the board, Yu Zhihuai had already taken his seat as well, his expression cold as he silently studied the endgame.

Zhan Changfeng said, “This game is a three-way challenge. You two will hold the pieces and compete for victory against each other, while I compete against both of you on the outcome. If the two of you can break this endgame, I lose.”

“What arrogance.” Yu Zhihuai snorted, and played the coin-toss with Yu Sheng to determine order. He took the black pieces; she took the white.

Yu Sheng put aside all other thoughts and focused on the situation on the board.

When playing an endgame, the first thing one must do is carefully fathom the style and intent of whoever laid out the position, and only then decide whether to break free and follow one’s own approach, or to continue along the existing lines of thought.

Yet when she sank her mind into the board, she found that the white pieces had an open, unobstructed path — the board seemed crossable in every direction. But upon placing a piece and thinking further, she found sheer cliffs on all four sides, with no way out at all.

On the other side, Yu Zhihuai too was gripping his black piece, his knuckles white, still unable to make his move.

The two of them each sat in deep concentration, temporarily oblivious to their surroundings — completely ignoring the growing crowd of spectators.

The old teacher overseeing the chess class happened to glance over and found himself unable to walk away. After watching for a long while, he hurried off in search of an old friend to sit down and recreate the game.

The academy’s teaching hours ran from the mao hour to the shen hour — a total of five double-hours from sunrise to late afternoon. Once chess class ended, the afternoon’s studies were over.

Zhan Changfeng paid no mind to the two people still deep in thought, and left on her own.

(End of Chapter)