Inside the Handtalk Room.
“…I won.”
Yu Shao stared silently at the board, at the two black stones that had just been placed down. Even though he had won in the end, he felt no joy—if anything, his emotions were complex.
When the ga began and he sat across from Zhuang Weisheng, for a fleeting mont, he felt as if he’d returned to his past life, to the days of the Go King Championship, where he fought blood-soaked battles against the top players of that world.
Those matches were grueling, but each one was a masterpiece. He had won nineteen gas in a row, defeating every elite player, finally standing at the summit.
But after truly finishing this ga, he realized…
This wasn’t the match he had been hoping for.
Zhuang Weisheng did bring out a new variation of the Weisheng Style, an improvent over the original Large Knight’s Move, but in the end, it was still a side extension—an outdated move abandoned by the modern era.
Which ant, from that mont onward, the board had already quietly tilted in favor of white.
And when he played the Tesuji, Zhuang Weisheng failed to find the correct response. From that point on, black no longer had any real chances.
Though Zhuang Weisheng fought with all his might, trying to bait him into a massive trap, from Yu Shao’s perspective—even if white couldn’t escape the trap, he could at least go down with black in a fight to the death.
Looking at the whole board, white already held a sizable advantage. So even if black and white tore each other apart in that one area, white would still win by endga.
To Yu Shao, this ga—though Zhuang Weisheng frequently played sharp and forceful local moves that forced him to think deeply—was overall rather uneventful.
Once the Tesuji sequence was complete, the outco was already decided.
In a sense, everything after that point was aningless—there was no reason to continue.
But was it really aningless?
Every move from that point on was Zhuang Weisheng, with a stone between his fingers, launching a silent, defiant, tragic resistance against an era—dood to fail from the start.
A re mortal, daring to challenge the divine.
Even though Yu Shao knew the victory was his, every move Zhuang Weisheng played in that hopeless situation, every ounce of strength drawn from the jaws of death—moved him deeply.
Yes, he won. But he thought it would’ve ended in midga. He didn’t expect to have to maintain control all the way through endga to determine the winner.
“Zhuang Weisheng... truly lives up to his na.”
Yu Shao lowered his eyes to the complex web of moves on the board. His expression remained calm, but deep down, he felt a subtle sense of loss... and regret.
“At its core, this wasn’t a fair match.”
“He didn’t lose to alone.”
“He lost to the tis.”
“And I didn’t win on my own, either. Go AI had a hand in this.”
“You longed for a fair match against an opponent like that.”
“If such a match ever happened, what would the outco be?”
At that mont, across from Fei Shaoying, Jiang Changdong finally looked away from the board and respectfully bowed.
Yu Shao also looked up from the board. After a brief glance at Zhuang Weisheng, he bowed as well.
The ga was officially over.
The Handtalk Room fell into stillness.
The two referees and the recorder continued to stare blankly at the board. Only when Zhuang Weisheng and Yu Shao began putting the stones away did they finally snap out of their daze.
“It’s really over…”
As the last stone was returned to the bowl, the board beca blank again—as if the ga had never happened. The three of them felt a faint emptiness settle in.
“This ga has reached its end.”
“And what awaits… is the next ga.”
“That next match will decide who gets to challenge for the National Title.”
Soon after, Yu Shao closed the lid on the Go bowl and stood up in silence, ready to leave.
Just then, Zhuang Weisheng spoke up and stopped him. “Yu Shao, 3-dan.”
Yu Shao paused mid-step and looked back at him.
Zhuang Weisheng raised his head, a slight smile forming on his lips, though tinged with a trace of regret. “So, what do you think? I lost, sure—but this ga wasn’t too bad, right?”
Yu Shao nodded slowly. “Of course. While I was playing, I was on edge the entire ti.”
“But you still lost.”
Zhuang Weisheng chuckled. “True. But even though I lost, I’m proud of this ga.”
“I’m proud—and grateful—to have been part of it.”
Looking at Yu Shao, Zhuang Weisheng said softly, “Having young players like you around—and seeing gas like this—it makes feel like choosing the path of Go was worth it.”
Yu Shao was taken aback.
Zhuang Weisheng stood slowly, the smile on his face gradually fading. “I look forward to our next match.”
Yu Shao gazed at him, and after a mont, his expression grew solemn. He nodded. “ too. I’m looking forward to our rematch.”
“That ga... will be even greater than this one.”
Watching their exchange, the two referees and the recorder in the room were overwheld with emotion.
This ga had shocked and moved them in so many ways.
From the new evolution of the Weisheng Style, to the pivotal Tesuji, to the cunning battles in midga, to white’s divine path through black’s trap, and then black’s tenacious struggle...
Both players had given them—and the world—a ga they would never forget.
Was Tesuji really that irresistible? After all, you had to respond to it!
Was this the future? Would players stop approaching corner star points altogether?
Was Go itself on the verge of a fundantal change?
This ga shattered their understanding of Go. It was as if every ga they had played before... had been wrong.
They were both stunned and shaken, still lost in the thrill of that harrowing clash.
Even though the ga had ended, the sound of stones striking the board still echoed in their minds—just as powerful and stirring.
“This... is Go.”
“Go has no end. It’s a path that stretches endlessly. Every player is a seeker on that path.”
“The board may be small, but it holds more possibilities than all the atoms in the universe combined. Every move carries the weight of a player’s lifeti of dedication.”
“Today marks the changing of an era. But perhaps... in that changing of the old and new, the new becos old, and the old becos new again?”
“Every player is constantly learning from each other, pushing forward together. No one walks this path alone.”
“Because to keep going in Go, you need soone to walk beside you.”
“That person may not be a friend, but they must be a worthy rival. Without a rival, you go nowhere.”
“Go is a ga between two geniuses.”
...
The ga had ended, but the entire world, all who had watched this match, remained stunned and dazed.
“The highlight was that Tesuji—a move every Go teacher would call a clumsy amateur mistake. And yet, in Yu Shao’s hands, all three weaknesses of the Tesuji were turned into strengths!”
“Exactly! It was so shocking—it completely overturned what I thought I knew about Go. You can’t ignore a Tesuji! Are we not allowed to approach star points now? That’s terrifying!”
“No, for , the most thrilling part was the battle black set up midga. And the way white entered and dismantled the trap... it made my scalp tingle!”
“What about the endga? The way black fought against white’s attacks—those coiling defenses, the way he turned defense into offense—he bit down hard, all the way to the endga!”
“What a pity. Tengen Zhuang Weisheng still lost.”
“The new era really is coming. 3-3 invasions, 5th-line shoulder hits, approach-and-pincer, Devil’s Blade, Avalanche, Large Diagonal, Tesuji... He’s a monster. He might actually usher in a new age!”
Online discussions exploded. Posts analyzing the match sprouted like bamboo after rain. Everyone who saw the ga poured their emotions into words.
In an apartnt in Donghai City—
Jiang Changdong and Chu Jingfeng sat across from each other, replaying the match between Yu Shao and Zhuang Weisheng on the board.
“What happens if you turn here?”
Chu Jingfeng quickly placed a stone and frowned.
Jiang Changdong reached into the Go bowl, but as he prepared to place a stone, his mind drifted back to the match. Yu Shao’s every move replayed in his head, as if he could still hear the stones hitting the board.
He couldn’t focus. Not in this state.
He let out a long breath, withdrew his hand, pulled a cigarette from his pocket, lit it, and stared at the board in silence.
Fei Shaoying noticed and also fell quiet.
After all, Yu Shao had beaten Jiang Changdong—and convincingly, too.
As the current National Champion, Fei Shaoying didn’t even need to think to know how much pressure that ant.
Zhuang Weisheng’s style was known for its solidity and imnse strength—gradually applying pressure until his opponents collapsed. Jiang Changdong, on the other hand, was a dragon-slayer—reckless, aggressive, relentless.
They were polar opposites—in both style and personality. Rivals for over thirty years, from childhood to adulthood, with neither getting the better of the other.
Though Jiang Changdong never admitted it, Chu Jingfeng knew deep down—Zhuang Weisheng was the one player he respected most.
Because recognizing your rival... is, in a way, recognizing yourself.
But now, Zhuang Weisheng had lost.
“Teacher Jiang, do you think... if you had played black, would you have won this match?”
Chu Jingfeng finally couldn’t help but ask.
As soon as the words left his mouth, he regretted them.
Knowing Jiang’s temper, he expected an angry, imdiate, confident “Yes.”
But to his surprise, Jiang Changdong didn’t respond right away. He just sat there, smoking, eyes fixed on the board.
“Teacher Jiang?”
Chu Jingfeng repeated cautiously.
After a long silence, Jiang slowly exhaled and finally spoke. “I would’ve lost.”
The room fell completely silent.
Chu Jingfeng stared at him in disbelief, wondering if he’d misheard.
“If it were playing black, I would’ve lost this ga.”
Jiang said again, “I couldn’t have won.”
Chu Jingfeng was speechless. He stared at the man opposite him, feeling like he no longer knew him. Jiang had always been the proud genius in his mind.
That was why he clashed so fiercely with the equally brilliant Zhuang Weisheng—he never once saw himself as lesser, always pushing himself harder.
But to hear "I couldn’t win" from Jiang’s mouth? Impossible!
This question should’ve been easy to deflect—even without confidence, he could’ve said, “If I played, the layout would’ve been completely different. There’s no way to compare.”
But Jiang didn’t say that.
He just said—he couldn’t win.
“From that Tesuji... to white’s entrance and attacks midga... to the closing stages of endga—it all went beyond what I imagined.”
He exhaled another smoke ring, a dazed look on his face. “I wouldn’t have played that way. I never even considered playing that way.”
“If I never even imagined it, how could I claim I could beat him?”
Chu Jingfeng was stunned silent, staring dumbly at Jiang.
Those words, coming from Jiang, were too much. Almost unbelievable.
“I haven’t even won the winner’s bracket yet. There’s still one final match left. If I win that... I’ll qualify to challenge for the National Title.”
Chu paused, then suddenly said, “You want to win it.”
That left him totally bewildered.
If Jiang didn’t think he could beat Yu Shao—why hope he would get to challenge him?
“I want to play him.”
Jiang Changdong seed to forget he was talking to Chu at all. He just poured out what was in his heart.
“It has nothing to do with titles, nothing to do with age, or anything else.”
“Just as a Go player—I want to face a player like that!”
Finally, he reached into the bowl, picked up a stone, and placed it on the board.
“Right now is now. Later is later. There’s still over half a month before the National Title Challenge Match begins!”
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