Nian Le quietly watched Huo Weiran’s back, picked up the bottle cap from the floor, and raised an eyebrow.
The next morning, Huo Weiran came downstairs on time and noticed Nian Le busy in the kitchen, so focused that he didn’t even glance his way.
There were already a few things set on the dining table — a few slices of bread, and a sealed jar of jam.
A brand-new jar.
So tightly sealed that it would be nearly impossible to open without a little trick.
He had refused his help last night, and now this was a new kind of provocation.
Huo Weiran quietly stared at the jar, then looked up at Nian Le’s figure moving about in the kitchen.
When Nian Le turned around with a plate of freshly stir-fried winter melon, he heard a loud clunk. Huo Weiran sat calmly at the table as if nothing had happened, but the jam jar had clearly changed position.
He must have tried to open it.
And failed.
Suppressing the twitch at the corner of his lips, Nian Le set down the dishes, arranged the utensils, and sat across from him. He picked up the jam.
“I injured my arm once too,” Nian Le said with a faint smile, looking at his younger brother. Just thinking of how stubbornly he’d insisted on giving him money yesterday made his mood lighter.
“I’ll teach you how to open a jar with one hand.”
Turning his right hand behind his back, he placed the jar upside down on the table with his left, gave the bottom a few taps, then set it upright between his legs. With one firm twist of his single hand, the lid came off neatly, releasing a sweet fruity scent.
Huo Weiran fell silent, his gaze resting on the man’s long legs beneath his casual pants and the jar between them.
Such a bold, teasing movement.
Such a strange way of showing off.
Nian Le placed the opened jar in front of him, but noticed how Huo Weiran quickly averted his eyes, his profile cool and composed, showing no intention of taking even a taste.
After a pause, Nian Le realized he might have a bit of a cleanliness habit, so he pulled the jar back toward himself, fetched a new one from the fridge, and placed it beside him instead.
“My first match is this morning,” Nian Le said evenly, his tone calm and clear. “I’ll probably be back around noon.”
“Mm.” Huo Weiran replied indifferently, forcing the earlier image from his mind. Only after the other had quietly left and the villa was empty again did he come back to himself.
He vaguely recalled something about a competition yesterday. Standing by the window, he glanced at the empty courtyard, then went upstairs to his dark, lightless room.
The light outside didn’t seem so harsh anymore; once inside, the dimness felt strangely comforting.
He turned on the bedside lamp. The soft yellow “eye-care” light was dim but tolerable.
When his mother chose this person, she must have carefully studied his “type.”
Gentle, emotionally stable, refined and calm, with hobbies, ambition, good looks, and those long, perfect hands.
The kind of ideal partner he had never consciously imagined and she had managed to find one through money and connections.
Only older by a few years.
Staring at the lamp, Huo Weiran realized what he was thinking and quickly pulled himself back, eyes shifting away from the light only to fall on the arm still wrapped in plaster.
He truly didn’t know the situation. Otherwise, he wouldn’t have used the jar as a joke. And Huo Weiran didn’t want to imagine how he’d react once he found out.
Arranged marriages were built on no emotional foundation, just an obligation between the older generation. He would never follow his mother’s will. Moreover, with modern laws protecting free choice in love, as long as one party refused, the marriage would never happen.
Huo Weiran knew clearly he wouldn’t agree no matter what tricks the other used, he wouldn’t waver.
×××
Declining the Huo family driver’s offer, Nian Le rode his little green bike smoothly all the way to the venue. Even though he arrived an hour early, there was still a queue at the entrance for security checks.
The Yixin Cup was the only national tournament in China where amateur and professional Go players could compete on the same stage, with a prize pool of three million yuan. Though it was only the third year it had been held, its influence was already immense.
This year’s registration count exceeded two thousand, and after several rounds of strict online qualifiers, only 289 players advanced to the offline matches in Jiangzhou. The timing of this year’s tournament happened to overlap with the top-tier professional Go league, so many professionals were bound by team contracts and could only attend that event giving the remaining players an excellent chance at the million-yuan prize.
After passing the security check, Nian Le found his name and table number on the match list. Not long after taking his seat, a girl of about eight or nine years old came skipping down the aisle with two little buns tied atop her head. Her bright eyes darted around until she found her table, then she sat confidently across from him.
The nearby players all gave Nian Le envious looks.
Meeting a child opponent in the first round — that was some luck.
Before the match even began, the little girl noticed the glances and gave Nian Le a mischievous smile.
“Big brother, you shouldn’t get happy too soon.”
“Why not?” Nian Le asked gently, leaning forward slightly to listen.
“Don’t let my age fool you. I’ve already beaten everyone at the Youth Palace even my teachers can’t beat me!” she said proudly.
“My grandpa and dad taught me Go since I was little. I’ve won so many trophies the shelf’s almost full!”
“You’re amazing,” Nian Le said sincerely. Since Go was no longer rewarded with extra points on the college entrance exam, fewer children learned it now the training took years, cost a lot, and the professional exam was notoriously hard. Many parents gave up halfway.
“I’m already Amateur 4-dan,” the girl boasted, chin lifted high. “Once I reach 5-dan, I’ll qualify as a National Level-2 Athlete. What about you, big brother?”
Nian Le smiled calmly and replied, “Amateur 3-dan.”
“Big brother, your rank’s lower than mine?” The little girl couldn’t help but giggle. “If the match order wasn’t already decided by drawing lots, since I’m the higher rank, I’d have to give you a handicap stone!”
Nian Le smiled faintly at the proud, peacock-like girl. When the referee announced the start of the match, he bowed slightly; the girl mimicked him, her eyes full of confident determination.
As the white side, Nian Le pressed the clock, and his opponent’s time began ticking down. The girl placed her first black stone at the upper-right corner and quickly hit the timer clearly used to tournament rules from years of experience.
The hall came alive with the crisp clatter of stones on boards. The first round of the Yixin Cup qualifiers had officially begun.
The girl started with a small-knight’s move to secure the corner—a solid formation. Nian Le placed his white stone at the 2-5 point, a standard invasion move.
The girl blinked. She knew this play; her teachers and grandfather had taught her how to respond. After some thought, she extended her black stones to build influence. Nian Le calmly followed with a shoulder hit and slide. The girl formed a tiger’s mouth connection, only to see his white stone immediately press forward to take corner territory.
“Gold corners, silver sides, grass in the center,” the girl remembered, and quickly played to secure territory on the edge only for Nian Le’s next move to cleanly sever her formation.
She froze for a moment, then forced herself to stay composed and shift her focus elsewhere but the more she played, the stranger it felt. His skill seemed just a little above hers, close enough to reach… yet whenever she thought she could catch up, he was just a step higher.
The Yixin Cup followed international Go rules: each player had 2 hours and 45 minutes, totaling five and a half hours for the match.
The girl played at a brisk but steady pace, and by the halfway mark, both sides had finished their moves. The referee came over to count the score with both AI and manual verification. The girl stared nervously at the board until the referee finally announced:
“Player Nian Le, white 180 points, wins.”
Under international scoring, black plays first, with a 3¾-komi (handicap), meaning white needed only 176.75 points to win.
She had lost by six and a half points barely. Her eyes turned red as she tried not to cry.
“Big brother,” she said in a trembling voice, signing her name on the record sheet, “the river flows east for thirty years, west for thirty years don’t you dare underestimate a young girl! Give me ten more years, and you won’t stand a chance against me!”
“The tournament’s just beginning,” Nian Le said gently, crouching to meet her eyes. “You’ll only get better.”
“I don’t need pity from the winner!” she said stubbornly, wiping her tears. “Listen up, big brother my name’s Xue Qi! One day, I’ll beat you!”
As she turned and ran off crying, Nian Le chuckled softly. He walked to the large screen showing the results, found his name, and saw the win mark beside it. His gaze stayed steady as he looked at the blank spaces ahead.
The tournament would span nine days and eight rounds, with a point-based knockout system. Winners earned two points, draws one, and losses none. To safely enter the top 32, one needed at least six victories.
The battle had only just begun. Winning the first match is a good start.
Outside, the little girl had already run into her grandfather’s arms, sobbing.
“Oh, oh, why the tears?” The elderly man, waiting by the door, looked at her red eyes and didn’t even need to ask what had happened.
“It’s all right, Qiqi,” he said kindly, holding his granddaughter close. “Didn’t Grandpa tell you? Winning and losing are both part of the game. We’ll review the match later and see where things went wrong, okay?”
“He was only a little stronger than me and way older too!” she protested, still sniffling.
The old man smiled faintly. He understood what she meant.
Most Go tournaments divided players by age or gender, the children’s, youth, adult, men’s, and women’s divisions but the Yixin Cup had no such categories. His granddaughter, being so young, was naturally at a disadvantage against players with decades more experience.
As he lifted her into the car, seeing the tears still brimming in her eyes, he felt a touch of confusion.
He knew her strength better than anyone. She was stronger than most adult amateurs. He expected tough competition, sure but not to lose so soon, and so narrowly.
Once they were home, the girl immediately started reviewing the game, puffing out her cheeks and replaying each move, asking her grandfather to help find her mistake.
He studied the board in silence for a long time before chuckling and patting her head.
“Sweetheart, you were just unlucky—you met a master.”
“A master? Grandpa, he only beat me by six and a half points! How’s that a master?”
“It’s normal you didn’t see it,” he said warmly. “His skill was far above yours. That game, he was guiding you.”
The girl blinked.
“When you played,” her grandfather continued, “didn’t you feel like you were always almost catching up but never quite could? If he wanted to crush you, you’d have lost by midgame. But he didn’t. He probably saw your talent and didn’t want to discourage you right from the start. So he played a teaching game and won by just a few points.”
The girl blinked again, recalling that strange feeling during the match. Suddenly, she couldn’t say a word.
Her grandfather smiled gently. “See? His style is calm and balanced. That’s the mark of someone with real mastery.”
Thinking of his gentle smile and his words after the match, she finally understood and remembering what she had said to him, her face grew hot.
Seeing his granddaughter staring at the floor, red-faced, the old man patted her back.
“Qiqi,” he said softly, “I’ve told you before—there’s always someone better. ‘Pride brings loss; humility brings gain.’ And now you’ve seen it for yourself.”
“But… but Grandpa,” Xue Yaqi asked timidly, “if he’s really that strong, how come he’s only Amateur 3-dan? He doesn’t even look that old, he seems like a college student.”
“A college student?” This time it was the old man’s turn to be surprised. He looked back at the board and couldn’t help but sigh.
“Then that child’s talent must far surpass yours. His skill is strong, and his temperament exceptional. Someone like that should already be well-known in the Go community—how could he still be only an Amateur 3-dan?”
The little girl blinked a few times, finding it hard to believe.
Seriously? If he’s that amazing, why hasn’t he taken the pro exam?
“If you don’t believe me, let’s make a bet,” her grandfather said, a hint of mischief in his eyes. “Watch his next few matches, he’ll win at least four in a row!”
“And if he doesn’t?” the girl asked, instantly perking up.
“If he doesn’t, I’ll give you that agate Go set,” the old man replied.
“Then what if you win, Grandpa?” Her eyes lit up with excitement.
“If I win…” He coughed twice, looking a bit embarrassed. “Then Qiqi, you’ll help me get his contact information.”
It had been a long time since he’d met such a gifted and steady young player. A faint desire to take him as a disciple rose in the old man’s heart.
And if the young man already had a teacher, then he definitely wanted to meet them to see which careless master could have such a talented student, yet fail to push him to take the professional exam, letting such a gem remain hidden and unknown!
[mfn] If you enjoy my translations, you can show your support by leaving a comment or donating to my Ko-fi. It will be much appreciated. Thank you! [/mfn]
