As September began, the biggest news was the announcement that the Ji Group would be sponsoring a world Go tournament.
Ji Group was a prominent company in Jiangcheng, with interests in real estate, e-commerce, logistics, and dining, among other industries. This upcoming tournament had no entry requirements, allowing even amateur players to participate. On the first day alone, Ji Group reportedly received three thousand applications.
The excitement among Go enthusiasts was largely driven by the tournament’s staggering prize—one billion yuan!
From the day the announcement was made, Xiu Times started closely following the event, producing a series of reports. Due to the overwhelming number of applicants, amateur players had to first go through a qualifying round.
Any journalist with even a basic understanding of Go was assigned to cover this event.
Cheng Liao was in charge of post-production.
As she fast-forwarded through the video footage from the event, she counted the zeros and then looked up at Yan Xiao in awe. "That’s eight zeros after the one!"
Yan Xiao nodded in agreement. "I’ve heard that even a lot of Go enthusiasts from Japan and South Korea have signed up. It’s true what they say, big rewards attract brave contenders. But let’s be honest, most of them are just there to make up the numbers. Do you know how big the gap is between amateur and professional players?"
She waved her hand and drew an imaginary line. "It’s wider than the Milky Way."
Cheng Liao was still a bit puzzled. "Isn’t it called a World Go Invitational? Why are only China, Japan, and South Korea participating?"
Yan Xiao gave her a look as if she were a fool. "Go ask an American, and they’ll probably tell you they play chess, not Go. The real connection is between China, Japan, and South Korea, where the cultural roots are shared.
"In the past, Japan dominated the Go world, and Chinese players couldn’t compete. Speaking of which, there’s an amateur Go competition in Japan where China sends professional players every time, and they win big, which almost drives the Japanese crazy. Later, South Korea took the lead because they focus more on the technical aspects, and Japanese Go declined. Now, China is catching up fast."
Yan Xiao winked at Cheng Liao. "Have you asked your guy if he’s going to participate in the ‘Ji Cup’?"
The answer was, of course, yes.
But since they were professional players, they didn’t need to participate in the qualifying rounds. The qualifying rounds were lengthy, lasting no less than three months, and by the time the finals were held, it would be close to the New Year.
The Go Academy was taking this tournament very seriously. The younger generation of players, including Sheng Jingchu, Cao Xihe, Yao Ke, and Ye Chen, were being sent, while the mid-generation players like Zhao Qiankun and Xie Changan were also participating, with Jiang Chunlai leading the team.
South Korea was reportedly taking it just as seriously, even postponing a domestic Go tournament to participate. Zhao Yanxun, Kim Gu, and Park Jinwon were confirmed to be competing, and for extra security, they even invited Zhao Yanxun’s teacher, Cho Seol-ra.
Japan, meanwhile, seemed even more determined, perhaps spurred by the one billion yuan prize or by a desire to reverse the decline of Japanese Go in recent years. They were sending top players like Kato Kiyomasa and Sakamoto Shinichi.
Recently, Japan had also hosted a Go exchange event, inviting Chinese players to join in and spar.
Since Korean players were not invited, the Korean media had been publishing highly imaginative articles.
The main message was that China and Japan, both struggling in Go, had come up with a sneaky plan to team up. After the tournament, no matter which country’s player won, the prize money would be split between China and Japan.
Cheng Liao sent a translated version of the Korean news article to Sheng Jingchu, who was currently in Japan for the exchange event.
He didn’t reply until the evening:
"It’s not like that. This exchange event happens every year. This year, the Korean Go Academy declined the invitation."
As for why the Korean Go Academy refused, it was rumored they were focused on studying Sheng Jingchu’s playstyle, even going so far as to hang a photo of Zhao Yanxun’s defeat by Sheng Jingchu in the academy’s lobby as a reminder of their disgrace.
He then asked Cheng Liao:
"What are you up to?"
Cheng Liao was doing some crafts, making small DIY hair clips with tools she had bought on Taobao. She was currently very into this hobby.
Her desk was cluttered with various items: a set of 120 colored pencils that had only been used once and were now collecting dust; some rubber stamps that she lost interest in before finishing even one; a handmade soap kit that had produced one passable bar, which Cheng Yi had taken; and small bottles of homemade aromatherapy oils.
Her desk was nearly overflowing with these odds and ends.
Fortunately, she was still in the honeymoon phase with her new hair clip project.
She opened a book, placed the hair clip on it, and took a photo to send to Sheng Jingchu.
It was a bright fuchsia clip with a little rabbit attached to it.
Sheng Jingchu admired it for a moment and gave her a brief compliment:
"Not bad."
Cheng Liao expected this kind of response and sent him a voice message.
"Here’s a free tip—remember this well. Next time I send you something and ask for praise, you should say, ‘Did you make this yourself? Wow, I can’t believe it! You must be a genius!’"
Her tone was exaggerated and a bit cheesy, and when she played it back, she got goosebumps.
After waiting a while with no response from Sheng Jingchu, she began to wonder:
"Are you practicing?"
Sheng Jingchu finally replied:
"I can’t find a game record I just reviewed."
Cheng Liao sent him another voice message, using a spooky tone:
"They say this is called ‘ghost covering your eyes.’ When a ghost passes by, it takes a liking to something you have and borrows it for a while. Don’t worry, it’ll return it once it’s done playing. I’ve been through this before—once, I couldn’t find my phone no matter where I looked, and the next day, I found it under my pillow."
After trying to spook him, Cheng Liao was about to continue working on her hair clip when she realized she couldn’t find it anywhere.
She searched every corner of her desk, and her hair stood on end.
Finally, she sent a dejected message to Sheng Jingchu:
"I’m done for. I’ve been ‘ghost-covered’ too. The hair clip is gone."
Sheng Jingchu replied:
"Check if it’s stuck in your book."
Cheng Liao flipped through the book, and sure enough, the hair clip was inside.
When she didn’t respond right away, Sheng Jingchu asked:
"Didn’t find it?"
After a while, Cheng Liao replied:
"My self-esteem is shattered."
He comforted her:
"Everyone makes mistakes sometimes."
He even sent a cute bunny emoji.
Cheng Liao sat up straight in bed, nearly dialing his number.
The sky must be falling, the earth collapsing—Sheng Jingchu suddenly knew how to send emojis?
Actually, Sheng Jingchu had often seen Cheng Liao using emojis, so he explored the feature and discovered that WeChat had a downloadable emoji pack. He selected a few that he found amusing and realized that using emojis saved him a lot of typing.
Jiang Chunlai, who was traveling with him, sent a WeChat message:
"Jingchu, come to my room for a moment."
He replied with a nodding bear emoji.
Cao Xihe asked him if he wanted to grab a late-night snack together.
He sent a shaking-head cheese cat emoji.
Xiao Qi apologized to him:
"Sorry, Mr. Sheng, I forgot to bring the book you usually read."
When Sheng Jingchu received a message from Xiao Qi apologizing for forgetting to bring the book he usually read, Sheng Jingchu responded with an emoji of a little grass character holding a brick.
Everyone was baffled and quickly started calling each other, spreading the word: "Sheng Jingchu’s WeChat has been hacked!"
During this period, Cheng Liao finally completed her probationary period, though it had been a difficult journey.
Since probationary salaries are only 80% of the full amount, her first-year income was modest. After all the necessary expenses, she was living paycheck to paycheck.
But after becoming a full-time employee, she suddenly found herself with 20% more salary, and it felt like she had become wealthy overnight.
When she received her first internship salary, she bought gifts for everyone in her family. For her grandmother, she got an electric blanket. Even though it was already quite warm, her grandmother was delighted and promised to use it well.
For her father, she bought an electric massager, but it broke after just one use. Cheng Liao hid it and bought a new one. When she returned it, she discovered there was already an identical one there—her father had secretly bought one himself, worried she would be upset.
For Cheng Yi, she bought a bottle of SK-II facial treatment essence, only to realize later that she had accidentally bought a knockoff labeled "SK-I" instead.
She got a set of bed linens for her third uncle and aunt, but after the first wash, the colors bled everywhere, causing the neighbors to think there had been a murder.
For Cheng Nuo, she bought a set of "English-Chinese Dictionary," which was fine—purchased from a Xinhua Bookstore, it was an authentic, sealed edition. Unfortunately, Cheng Nuo didn’t even look at it and just shoved it onto a shelf to gather dust.
Cheng Liao decided to use this 20% increase in her salary to buy a gift for Sheng Jingchu. However, after wandering around the mall, she realized that prices had skyrocketed while she was waiting for her promotion. She left the house feeling happy but returned home feeling quite dejected.
After some thought, she decided to spend the money on some good food for Sheng Jingchu.
Her father kindly supported her plan. He found out the day for the dinner, decided to close his shop early, and offered to help Cheng Liao prepare the dishes.
The dinner was set to take place at the Cheng family home in Tian Shui Lane. The confirmed guests included Cheng Liao’s grandmother, Cheng Yi, her father, her third uncle, and her third aunt.
Cheng Nuo, who was attending extra classes at school, made several requests to attend but was denied by his third uncle.
Sheng Jingchu’s flight was at 5 PM, so he wouldn’t arrive at the Cheng family home until at least 6 PM.
For Cheng Liao, this was just a meal for Sheng Jingchu, but for Sheng Jingchu, it was his first official visit to her home.
So, before heading to the airport, Sheng Jingchu asked Xiao Qi to help him choose the perfect gift and even carefully considered what to wear. Black seemed too somber, gray didn’t look clean enough, and white—would it be too informal?
Xiao Qi, who had a keen sense of style, had always prepared Sheng Jingchu’s outfits for his matches. Fashion magazine editors often contacted Xiao Qi to ask if they could feature Sheng Jingchu’s photos in their publications.
Whenever the Go Academy had public events, Sheng Jingchu was always asked to attend because of his excellent image.
And the professional Go player exam that Sheng Jingchu helped host had a record number of applicants.
In Xiao Qi’s opinion, Sheng Jingchu could walk out in a burlap sack and still look stylish. When it comes to dressing well, it all comes down to the face.
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