For the next half month, Yu Shao went to the activity room with Zhou De after school every day to study Go records and analyze gas.
Zhou De’s shaless persistence was astonishing. Every day, he hounded Zhong Yufei for rematches, vowing revenge. His resilience was equally incredible; no matter how crushing his defeats, his confidence remained intact.
After all, he was a beginner. No matter how badly he lost, he always had an excuse: I’ve only been playing for a short ti. Isn’t it natural for you to beat ?
Chen Jiaming also finally found a role where he could contribute. With Yu Shao and Xu Zijin’s skill levels far beyond his, he couldn’t teach them much, but Zhou De and Zhong Yufei were another matter.
He often pointed out their mistakes during gas and even gave Zhou De extra one-on-one lessons.
Xu Zijin, anwhile, spent her ti silently studying ga records. Her aloof deanor discouraged any interruptions.
As for Yu Shao, he used this period to imrse himself in the ga records of this world’s top players, gaining a clearer understanding of their skill levels.
“The top players in this world…”
Yu Shao gazed at the Go board in front of him, his expression contemplative.
“Because there’s no Go AI in this world, there’s a gap in certain theoretical understandings compared to my past life.
“But thanks to Go’s elevated international status and wider popularity in this world—
“The top players here are no less skilled in areas like board balance, overall strategy, and attacking maneuvers compared to the elite players of my past life. They’re formidable opponents.”
Several ga records from this world had deeply impressed Yu Shao.
So moves demonstrated remarkable skill, leaving him with an intense urge to play against these players and see what kind of gas they could produce together.
“I can’t believe I still feel this way.”
Yu Shao found this reaction puzzling.
In his past life, he’d felt a similar passion during his youth—a desire to challenge skilled players. Those years were when his skills improved the fastest.
But as his abilities grew and he had faced nearly every great player of his ti, that feeling gradually faded.
Even with new up-and-coming players, though their gas were brilliant, he no longer felt the sa desire to compete with them.
Instead, what he felt was pressure—a fear of being overtaken by the next generation of stars.
So why, in this life, had that youthful eagerness reignited?
Was it because he was young again?
No.
Yu Shao understood himself well. Even with a younger body and mindset, his core perspectives and understanding of the world hadn’t changed.
He stared at the board for a long ti before the answer dawned on him.
“Maybe it’s because… I want to win.”
In his youth, he had nothing to lose, so he could approach gas with reckless abandon, seeking only to play the most brilliant matches possible.
But later, after achieving fa and bearing the expectations of fans, family, and even his nation, he had to win.
The burden of needing to win beca his cage.
A desire to win wasn’t inherently bad. It drove him to push his limits, helping him stage dramatic cobacks even in seemingly hopeless positions.
But when that desire grew too strong, it beca an invisible shackle.
In his past life, he was acutely aware of his shortcomings in attacking play. Yet on the professional stage, he avoided overly aggressive strategies, sticking instead to the subtle, nuanced approach he excelled at.
Because he had to win.
His desire to win had overshadowed his love for Go.
Now, with no burdens from his past life weighing him down, his desire to win wasn’t as overwhelming. He still wanted to win, but that wasn’t all he wanted.
This newfound freedom was why seeing brilliant moves in these ga records reignited his passion to compete against such players.
Realizing this, Yu Shao stared at the board in a daze.
“Did I co back to life because Go was my entire life in the past? Is it because, in this life, I simply want to enjoy my youth?”
Chen Jiaming’s voice interrupted his thoughts.
“It’s about ti. Let’s wrap it up for today. You can all head ho.”
Yu Shao snapped back to reality, quickly put the Go pieces away, and slung his backpack over his shoulder to leave.
As he walked past Xu Zijin, he noticed her still engrossed in the ga in front of her, showing no intention of leaving.
“Xu Zijin, we’re leaving. Aren’t you going ho?” Yu Shao asked, puzzled.
Xu Zijin didn’t respond, her attention fixed on the board.
“Xu Zijin?”
Yu Shao raised his voice slightly.
Finally, Xu Zijin seed to wake from her trance. She turned to Yu Shao and asked, “Is it ti already?”
“Yes, it is. What are you looking at so intently?”
Curious, Yu Shao glanced at the board in front of her and was instantly surprised.
“What is this?”
The black and white stones were fiercely tangled, the board a chaotic battlefield. Both sides were locked in a desperate struggle, with massive dragons on the verge of being captured. The tension was palpable, a rarity even in professional gas.
Xu Zijin answered softly, “It’s an ancient ga record between Yang Shirong and Gong Sheng.”
“Yang Shirong and Gong Sheng? This record is famous?” Yu Shao frowned, sensing the ga’s significance.
“You don’t know it?” Xu Zijin looked at him, surprised.
“No, I don’t,” Yu Shao admitted.
After a mont of silence, Xu Zijin’s clear voice explained, “This is one of the most famous ancient ga records and also my favorite.
“Back then, komi didn’t exist, so gas were incredibly aggressive. From the opening moves, both players fought fiercely, leaving no room for retreat.
“Because the attacks and counterattacks in this ga were so brilliant, even modern players still study it to learn from their strategies.”
Xu Zijin paused, her gaze returning to the board.
“But this record is incomplete. It ends abruptly here.”
“The complete record has been lost. All we know is that white eventually won, leaving the latter half of the ga to the imagination of future players.”
Staring at the board, she added softly, “I wish I could see how the full ga played out. It must have been incredible…”
Reviews
All reviews (0)