Volume One.
Chapter One of the Night: Sonata.
...
2022, Autumn.
The drizzling rain fell from the grey sky, lightly showering the city streets.
In this autumn season, one could occasionally see pedestrians without umbrellas scurrying past, shielding their heads with their hands.
In the narrow lane shared by military and civilians, a young man about seventeen or eighteen was sitting opposite an old man beneath the awning next to the small store of Fortune Supermarket.
Outside the awning the whole world was gloomy, the ground had been soaked to a light black by the rainwater, only the ground under the awning remained a dry patch, as if this was the only pure land left in the whole world.
A worn wooden chessboard lay before them, with the red sign of 'Fortune Supermarket' overhead.
"Checkmate," Qing Chen said and then stood up, leaving the old man with thinning hair sitting stupefied.
Qing Chen gave the other party a calm look and said, "No more struggling is necessary."
"I still can..." the old man said unwillingly, "We've only played thirteen moves..."
In his words, the old man felt somewhat embarrassed by the situation that had led to his defeat after only thirteen moves.
Qing Chen didn't explain anything, as the chessboard already revealed a killing intent, signaling the final moment when the assassin's dagger is revealed.
The young man's face was clean, his eyes clear, and just by sitting there in his simple school uniform, it seemed as though he purified the world around him making it a bit more transparent.
The old man tossed the chess piece he was holding onto the board, resigning the game.
Qing Chen, as if nobody else was around, walked into the counter area of the nearby supermarket and took 20 yuan from the change basket underneath, tucking it into his pocket.
The old man cursed as he watched Qing Chen, "To lose 20 yuan to you every day! I just won 20 yuan from Lao Lee and Lao Zhang this morning, and now it's all lost to you!"
After Qing Chen pocketed the money, he sat back down beside the chessboard and began to review the game, "If they weren't already unwilling to play chess with me, I wouldn't need to win money through you. You need face; I need money; it's quite fair and reasonable."
"So you've made up your mind about me, huh?" the old man grumbled, "The fortune-teller said I would live to seventy-eight, and I'm only fifty now. If I lose 20 yuan to you every day, how much money would I have to pay out?"
"But I still teach you chess so you can win back your face," Qing Chen replied calmly, "When you think about it, you're not at a loss."
The old man muttered, "But what you've taught these last few days has been useless."
Qing Chen glanced at him, "Don't talk about yourself that way."
The old man, "????"
Irritated, the old man set up the chessboard again and then said eagerly, "Alright, alright, let's review the game."
At that moment, Qing Chen suddenly bowed his head.
The time that had just passed seemed to replay in his mind.
The cannon that struck without warning, the brave soldiers on the border between Chu and Han echoed one by one in his mind.
Not just these.
There was also the uncle who walked past them while they were playing chess, carrying four freshly baked biscuits that released a bit of steam into the transparent plastic bag, coating it with a layer of white fog.
The little girl in a white dress passing by with an umbrella had two beautiful butterflies on the surface of her little leather shoes.
Above the sky, the wavering rain soaked the lane, glistening and translucent.
At the end of the lane, a 103 bus flashed past the narrow alley entrance, and a woman in a beige trench coat ran towards the bus stop with her umbrella raised.
The sound of footsteps, the sound of rainwater flowing into the drain covers by the roadside, these loud noises made the world seem particularly quiet.
All of this, Qing Chen had not forgotten, although recalling it was somewhat difficult.
But difficult does not mean impossible.
This peculiar memory power was a talent Qing Chen was born with, as if he had simply drawn a save file from the river of time and then read the images from that save tape.
Qing Chen suppressed the dizziness in his brain and picked up a chess piece on the board.
The old man suddenly fell silent, his eyes intently focused on the board, as replaying each game after was a part of the betting agreement.
Qing Chen was responsible for teaching chess, while the old man, after losing money, learned chess.
This scene was somewhat eerie; Qing Chen did not have the humility and shyness that a younger person should have in front of an elder, instead, he was like a teacher.
The other party didn't seem to mind that at all.
"Red cannon from two to five, black cannon from eight to five, red horse from two forward to three, black horse from eight forward to seven, red chariot from one forward to one, black chariot from nine to eight..." Qing Chen moved the pieces step by step.
The old man didn't even blink; the opening moves were all standard, but he couldn't understand why, on the sixth move, when he had clearly taken the opponent's horse, he suddenly found himself in decline.
"The essence of the 'Horse Sacrifice Thirteen' move lies in the sixth step of advancing the chariot and sacrificing the horse. It's the trump card for tearing open the defense," Qing Chen said calmly, "I watched the game you played the day before yesterday with that old man in Royal City Park. He likes to play a running start. There will be no issues if you use the 'Horse Sacrifice Thirteen' move against him."
The old gentleman across fell deep into thought, then asked softly, "Can I really beat him?"
"If you learn the 'Horse Sacrifice Thirteen' move that I teach you within a week, you'll be able to reclaim your face," Qing Chen said, "After all... his play is not that good either."
A trace of joy appeared on the old man's face.
But then he suddenly asked, "If I can win against him after studying for a week, how long do I need to study chess in order to beat you?"
Underneath the awning, Qing Chen thought seriously, "Did the fortune-teller say you can live to seventy-eight years old... then it's too late."
The old man's expression faltered, "If you talk less, maybe I can live to seventy-nine... Eh, shouldn't you be in evening self-study now? Why did you get out of school so early today?"
He knew Qing Chen was a high school sophomore, and it was Tuesday, so the high school two streets away should be in evening self-study at that time.
Qing Chen thought for a moment and answered, "I'm waiting for someone."
"Waiting for someone?" The old man was taken aback.
Qing Chen stood up and looked out at the fine rain outside the awning, his gaze drifting in the curtain of rain.
The old man said, "Qing Chen, you young fellow play chess so well, why don't you participate in chess competitions? Didn't you say you are short of money? You'd get a reward if you won the championship."
The young Qing Chen shook his head, "I just memorized many chess manuals in my mind, that's all. It doesn't mean I'm that good at chess. Memory Power doesn't imply analytical power. I can play with you guys, but if I encounter a real master, I'll show my weakness. My path is not here; chess is only temporary."
"All memorized in your mind..." The old man sighed, "I used to think that photographic memory was just a made-up thing by others."
The rain slowly stopped.
Just then, the old man suddenly noticed Qing Chen pause, he followed the young man's gaze to the end of the alley, and saw a couple walking towards them, leading a little boy.
The middle-aged woman was wearing an elegant coat and carrying a cake box tied with a pretty purple ribbon.
The dull world could not hide the joy on the faces of the three people. Qing Chen turned and walked away, leaving the old man sitting under the awning in front of Fortune Supermarket, sighing softly.
The middle-aged woman saw Qing Chen's retreating figure, she called out his name, but Qing Chen, without turning his head, disappeared at the other end of the alleyway.
The walls on both sides of the alley were very old, and after the white plaster had fallen off, what was left were patches of mottled red brick.
The person Qing Chen was waiting for had arrived, yet he no longer wanted to wait.