“Rest well,” he said, turning to Cheng Liao to thank her repeatedly. “Thank you for taking care of him. If it gets worse, don’t hesitate, get him to a hospital right away.”
Even as he reached the door, he couldn’t help but remind her, “If he has trouble sleeping tonight, tell him to call me. I don’t sleep much anyway.”
Back in the room, Sheng Jingchu was flipping through a Go manual when Cheng Liao swiftly took it away.
“Do you want to get better or not? It’s too taxing on your mind, and you have a match the day after tomorrow.”
Sheng Jingchu didn’t argue, leaning back against his pillow with a soft voice, “Maybe it’s better if I don’t recover.”
The thought of the upcoming showdown between him and his teacher made Cheng Liao’s heart sink. She shook her head vigorously as if trying to shake off her worries.
“Watch this—I’m going to show you a magic trick!”
Cheng Liao pinched her nose with one hand, pulling it down, causing the corners of her eyes to droop. With the other hand, she squeezed her cheeks, puffing them out as her eyes crossed, making her look like a cross-eyed fox.
Sheng Jingchu stared at her for a full half minute, leaving Cheng Liao feeling confused.
She sheepishly withdrew her hands. “Was that silly?”
Suddenly, Sheng Jingchu burst into laughter, bending over as he coughed.
“You’ve got such a delayed reaction.” Cheng Liao pouted, “So delayed it could stretch from Hangzhou to Jiangcheng.” She then joined in the laughter, revealing her small, sharp canines, feeling a bit proud. “Fun, wasn’t it?”
The next day, Ding Lan insisted on coming to take care of Sheng Jingchu, but he simply closed the door and refused all visitors.
Whether it was fortunate or not, by the day of the match, Sheng Jingchu had somewhat recovered, though he still looked worn out, and his voice was hoarse.
Due to his illness, Sheng Jingchu wasn’t in top form and conceded halfway through the match.
Despite his rough start, his junior brothers were in high spirits, eagerly planning a barbecue outing. Cheng Liao watched Sheng Jingchu closely, wracking her brain to find something encouraging to say.
As Sheng Jingchu was heading back to his room, he stopped her. “You don’t need to comfort me. I just want some quiet.”
“Oh.”
Seeing her slight disappointment, Sheng Jingchu ended up comforting her instead. “Do you want to have a barbecue? I’ll ask Xiao Cao to take you.”
“Forget it,” Cheng Liao said, twirling a lock of her hair around her finger before letting it go. Then, mimicking a beheading gesture, she added, “If looks could kill, I’d be chopped into pieces by Ding Lan by now.”
She then perked up, “I’ll just cook something for you instead. How about abalone congee? But we’re not near the sea, so the abalone here is probably not the freshest. How about ‘Zhuangyuan Jidi Congee’? It’s got a good name—you’ll definitely win after eating it.”
When Sheng Jingchu didn’t respond, she prompted again, “So, what do you want to eat?”
After some thought, Sheng Jingchu replied, “Bamboo.”
Was he getting back at her for calling him a panda?
Cheng Liao gave him a sidelong glance and grinned.
“Wait here, I’ll go pick some for you!”
Under Cheng Liao’s careful attention, Sheng Jingchu gradually regained his strength. During the second match, although it was close, he managed to win by three points.
Unlike the jubilant atmosphere after Xie Hanzhou’s initial victory, the junior brothers were now solemn, with no one in the mood for a barbecue. After the match, they dispersed in small groups.
The master and disciple exchanged a look, and Xie Hanzhou gave Sheng Jingchu a firm pat on the shoulder before turning to leave.
Watching from the doorway, Cheng Liao suddenly realized that while losing is painful, winning isn’t always easy either.
With a break in the matches the following day, Cheng Liao decided to make Sheng Jingchu some Song Sao fish soup. She had never tasted the authentic version and could only follow a recipe she found online. After finishing, she couldn’t shake the feeling that something was off. Food is a magical thing, seemingly infused with the cook’s spirit. Even with the same ingredients and proportions, the taste can vary subtly.
Sheng Jingchu's door was slightly ajar, and remembering her previous experience, Cheng Liao was about to knock when she heard voices coming from inside the room.
“…It's already been diagnosed,” the voice paused, “Alzheimer’s disease. I’m sure you know what that means.”
Cheng Liao knew—commonly called dementia, it’s a brain disorder with irreversible damage, and there’s no cure.
The voice continued, “My father dedicated his entire life to Go, and now, in his old age, he’s been struck by this disease. You’re still young; you have plenty of opportunities ahead of you. A few losses won’t matter much, but my father can’t afford to lose. This is the last match of his career. If he loses… I can’t imagine how devastated he’d be. Jingchu, my father has always treated you like his own son. In this final game… could you let him win?”
Was that Xie Hanzhou's son?
Cheng Liao quietly retreated to her own room, her mind swirling with thoughts. Did Mr. Xie know his son had come to speak with Sheng Jingchu privately? And if Mr. Xie found out later, how awkward would that be?
And Sheng Jingchu? Would he really let him win?
She recalled Sheng Jingchu’s conversation with Cao Xihe. Given Sheng Jingchu's character, it seemed unlikely that he would purposely lose… but Mr. Xie was his teacher, after all.
Putting herself in Sheng Jingchu’s shoes, Cheng Liao felt the weight of the dilemma he must be facing. The fish soup she had brought him had long since gone cold as she agonized over the situation.
By evening, she finally decided to make some light dishes and brought them to his room.
His demeanor was as calm and indifferent as always, showing no signs of inner turmoil.
“Um…” Cheng Liao hesitated, “Would you like to go for a walk?”
The air still held the lingering heat of the day, and the sky had fully darkened, leaving only the dim glow of streetlights.
Cheng Liao walked alongside Sheng Jingchu, following a small path. At first, she paid attention to their route, but after a few turns, she lost track of where they were.
Suddenly, the path opened up into a small square illuminated by colorful neon lights. A few children on bikes whizzed past them, their laughter trailing behind.
Cheng Liao’s gaze was caught by a claw machine on the side of the street. She pressed her face against the glass, staring at a small stuffed toy inside, and then called Sheng Jingchu over.
“See that little husky with the bell around its neck?” She pointed it out, growing more and more fond of it. “It’s so adorably dumb-looking.”
It was just palm-sized, with a black nose, supposedly a husky, though its design was somewhat abstract.
Sheng Jingchu watched from the side. “You really like it?”
Cheng Liao nodded eagerly. “I love it!”
But she reluctantly tore her gaze away. “Liking it isn’t enough, though. Look at how many layers of toys are stacked on top of it. You’d have to clear them all away first.”
Without a word, Sheng Jingchu went to exchange some coins for the machine.
Claw machines are usually rigged, with a slim chance of winning. Cheng Liao didn’t expect much, standing by Sheng Jingchu’s side and watching with bated breath.
He set a timer on his phone, moved the joystick, and Cheng Liao held her breath as he casually picked a target. He adjusted the angle of the claw, lowered it, pressed the grab button, and the claw lifted the toy, smoothly depositing it into the chute.
Sheng Jingchu glanced at the timer, picked up the toy, and handed it to her.
“Each grab takes 15 seconds.”
He then added, “Some take 30 seconds.”
After putting away his phone, he inserted another coin and lowered the claw again.
“For big-headed dolls, aim for the center.”
He picked up a Winnie the Pooh and placed it at the chute.
“For humanoid dolls, grab under the arms.”
He snagged a Mickey Mouse.
“For soft plushies, use a dragging technique.”
He used the claw to drag a Shar Pei dog to the chute.
“For lifelike dolls, grab by the tail.”
He grabbed a monkey by the tail.
His success attracted a crowd, and soon people were whispering to each other:
“He looks familiar… Didn’t I see him on TV yesterday?”
“Isn’t he the Go player?”
“Yeah, Sheng Jingchu, right? Quick, get your phone out. I finally get to see him in person!”
Cheng Liao tugged on Sheng Jingchu’s sleeve. “Let’s go.”
He set down the joystick. “Don’t you want the little husky?”
Seeing the crowd grow, Cheng Liao became anxious.
“These few are enough,” she insisted, worried he wouldn’t believe her. “Really, they’re enough.”
On the way back, Sheng Jingchu offered to carry two of the toys, but Cheng Liao refused.
“You don’t understand,” she explained. “Holding stuffed animals is like holding flowers. You want the feeling of a full embrace.”
She grinned from ear to ear, alternately admiring Mickey Mouse and playfully hooking the monkey’s tail with her pinky.
“How are you so good at this?” she asked.
“Maybe because it requires timing?”
Was that a joke? Professional Go players don’t need to practice hand-eye coordination.
She looked at him skeptically.
“Actually, it’s because I once lost to Xiao Cao.”
Cao Xihe had put a lot of effort into mastering claw machines to impress Ding Lan, but he never mentioned it. Sheng Jingchu didn’t even know he was good at it until Cao Xihe challenged him to a claw machine competition, using one of Sheng Jingchu’s precious Tianhuang stone seals as the wager.
Naturally, Sheng Jingchu lost.
Cao Xihe knew Sheng Jingchu had no interest in these childish things, which is why he made the bet. But after learning the truth, Sheng Jingchu practiced a few times, even creating a strategy guide, and eventually won his seal back.
“I was too young back then.”
Looking back on those days, Sheng Jingchu sighed with some nostalgia.
“You talk like you’re an old man now,” Cheng Liao retorted.
Youthfulness isn’t just about age; it’s about a certain sharpness. He felt like his own sharpness had gradually worn away.
People love victory because it’s tied to happiness. But if winning doesn’t bring joy, then what’s the point of winning?
He remained silent, offering no further explanation.
Cheng Liao, cradling the plush toys, grew increasingly pleased with herself. “I should change my surname from Cheng to Fu (which means 'fortune').”
She found happiness in these little trinkets, and Sheng Jingchu couldn’t help but smile, feeling his mood lighten. Perhaps joy really was as simple as winning a few stuffed animals from a claw machine and taking a walk on a sultry night.
He suddenly had the urge to ruffle her hair, just like he used to ruffle the head of his teacher’s big yellow cat. Every time he did, the cat would close its eyes in contentment.
He was just lifting his hand when Cheng Liao looked up and noticed.
“What’s up?”
“Oh,” he quickly covered, “there was a spider on your hair. I was about to flick it off.”
“Where? Where?” Cheng Liao, terrified of spiders, spun around in a circle, searching frantically.
“It’s gone now,” Sheng Jingchu pointed to her neck, “it ran away quickly.”
Instantly, Cheng Liao felt a tickling sensation on her neck. She tossed the plush toys aside and bolted, as if running would shake off the spider.
){kind=link}
0 Comments