TSLSILMH Ch 34

Chapter 34

When Xie Shu heard the old man say that this was his own game with a friend, he was mildly surprised. Yet looking at him, he did not seem like most elders of this era. Instead, there was a quiet brilliance hidden beneath his ordinary appearance.

Thus, no hesitation showed on Xie Shu’s face.

His gaze remained on the board. After a while, his pupils fixed on one point, and then he said calmly: “Since you don’t mind, then allow this junior to try.”

Hearing this, Jiang Hong put aside his wandering thoughts, narrowed his eyes, and focused intently.

By then, Xie Shu had already picked up a white stone between his fingers and slowly placed it. “Old sir, if one moves the white stone here—west nine, south ten.”

Jiang Hong frowned slightly, puzzled. He knew well the fundamentals of go: press the strong, not the weak; when under pressure, one must solidify their own strength to attack the opponent’s weaker group. When the game has advanced, one must prevent the enemy from dominating the center, for in contesting the mid-board you must break out faster than the opponent.

Yet Xie Shu’s placement did neither—neither breaking upwards nor resisting the encircled group, but instead went downward.

Wasn’t that abandoning the larger situation?

But the instant the white stone touched the board, Jiang Hong’s tired eyes flashed alight. Clapping his hands, he exclaimed again and again. He had never thought this position could be so wondrous. This stone was truly “one move to defend both sides”!

For while defending, when black advanced into the center, leaving its corner hollow, it had seemed white was trapped everywhere. Yet this deft placement transformed the entire board, linking one corner and simultaneously supporting the central dragon. The white stones lived!

With admiration, Jiang Hong sighed: “What brilliance! Without you, young friend, my white would have been doomed. But tell me—how did you think of such a move?”

Xie Shu replied with a light smile: “This junior only had the chance to put the finishing touch. The key lies in your previous groundwork. You had steadily positioned the corner stones. As black found no life below, it charged into the center. Yet the roots had already been planted. Even if the dragon looms large above, white still has the power to counterattack. So I thought of two words—‘Balance and Harmony.’”

“Balance and Harmony?”

Jiang Hong was struck. To dwell in balance before emotions stir, to act moderately when they do—such was harmony. That was why Xie Shu had the composure to look downwards in that situation.

In that instant, Jiang Hong’s thoughts spun back to his years in the capital. If he too had upheld such principles, perhaps things would not have ended as they had.

The reasoning he knew, of course—it was enacting it that was difficult. Yet the young man’s words cleared his heart, leaving him oddly joyful. His eyes toward Xie Shu warmed with appreciation.

Yet such was not enough to accept a pupil directly. What master proposed to a student so willingly?

Instead, Jiang Hong said, “Young friend’s skill is marvelous indeed. Yesterday you ceded me a room, today you gifted me with a move. Yet I still do not know your name.”

Then Xie Shu realized—this was the abbot’s friend, the very one who had taken the room ahead of him and Yu Chuxi yesterday.

Seeing the elder’s courtesy, Xie Shu replied frankly: “This junior’s surname is Xie, given name Shu. Please call me Xie Shu.”

“Xie Shu,” Jiang Hong repeated with a chuckle. “You seem about twenty—have you taken a courtesy name yet?”

It was the first time Xie Shu had been asked this. In antiquity, at the age of twenty, a man would be given a courtesy name by his elders or respected figures. But in this life, with his parents gone and no master or close friends, he had never received one.

So he replied naturally: “I reached manhood not long ago, but with my parents deceased, and myself studying at home without mentor or close friends, I have none.”

A trace of helplessness lingered in his tone. Indeed, before he had already explained to Prefect Wan Linming about studying privately, and the response had always been suspicion of arrogance or disdain for the academies.

But the old man simply said as though it were obvious: “So it is. Jinling Prefectural School is indeed inferior, misleading its students. Of course, most prefectural schools are like this—fixated on commentary and memorization of the classics, focusing on the Four Books and Five Classics. Though you may attain some standing in local exams, once at the capital’s metropolitan examinations, many inevitably fail.

Now the imperial examinations no longer follow the old ways of ‘seeking only pretty rhetoric without substance,’ or ‘reciting lines without addressing governance.’ Only by knowing past and present, understanding the causes of disorder, can one become a pillar of the state. Have you not heard His Majesty say, ‘governing the realm lies in putting knowledge to use’? From the roots of governance arise the principles of rites and music…”

Xie Shu never expected such penetrating discourse from the elder. Not only did he understand the examination system and current politics with clarity, but his very mention of “His Majesty” carried neither fear nor servility.

That could only mean—he was either deeply learned and broad-minded, or had held high rank and seen the world. Perhaps both.

With respect, Xie Shu bowed. “Your words are like sweet clarity poured into my ears. I beg for your teaching.”

Jiang Hong’s eyes flashed with satisfaction, but he did not speak directly. After some thought, he said: “I dare not claim teaching. I know only a little. But I can guide you in your doubts.”

Then his tone shifted. “But today, I have other matters. Tomorrow at dawn, let us meet here again. Shall you be free?”

Dawn?

Xie Shu knew this meant before sunrise, in the hour of the tiger, around 3-5 a.m.—far too early. But he asked nothing, only bowed again. “I will remember your words.”

Jiang Hong waved it off casually, watching his departing figure, then smiled to himself, turning back to the board.

Descending from the mountain, the morning sun already blazed bright. Taking the same trail, Xie Shu descended—where, halfway, he encountered an old monk in a crimson cassock. Unlike the others’ plain robes, this must be the abbot Xuanzhen.

Xuanzhen greeted him with a smile, palms joined. “Benefactor Xie, did you just come from Yiya Cliff?”

When Xie Shu nodded, he asked further. “And did you perhaps see an old gentleman there?”

Knowing why he asked, Xie Shu replied with honesty: “I saw an elder there, studying a go board. I dared not disturb him.”

Satisfied, Xuanzhen only smiled deeper. They parted ways, Xuanzhen chuckling inwardly. So Jiang Hong had not improved much in twenty years of playing—but his tricks had only grown! Yesterday he’d used the excuse of nightfall to delay, and this morning had stolen off alone to study. Let’s see if he discovered escape!

Xie Shu did not linger at other places, returning straight to his quarters.

The courtyard was utterly still, the maids gone, silence pressing even the birdcalls to hush.

He guessed the Young Lord wished for solitude, sending them away. Quietly he eased the door open.

The wood creaked faintly, hushed at once by soft rustling fabric. Closing the door, Xie Shu entered the inner chamber—and froze.

There, within pale curtains, Yu Chuxi half-sat, robe loose, sash undone. His trousers were rolled high, pale calves bare, face twisted slightly as he rubbed salve into his legs.

Sensing movement, he looked up. Dark hair slid down his shoulder, framing his damp eyes, a red mole by the corner, vivid as blood, gleaming like a drop of cherry against flawless skin.

For a long breath, Xie Shu was silent.