At 2 o'clock in the afternoon on that day, Taiping Mountain.
The sky was clear, and the air was fresh. Under the century-old banyan tree in the main residence's backyard, the chessboard was enveloped in a mist of tea.
This was the father and son's last game before leaving for Beijing.
It was still the same unfinished game from last time in the study.
Chen Jingyuan sat silently on a teak chair, dressed in finely pressed business attire. His shirt buttoned to the top, his subtly patterned tie precisely aligned at his throat, exuding a composed aura. As he made his plays, the cold gleam from his watch's dial sifted through the wreathing tea vapor, gradually getting covered by a thin mist.
The black-and-white pieces were in disarray, but in reality, each move was strategic.
As the eldest son was about to depart for Beijing, Chen Song played his game majestically and unhurriedly as ever.
However, as the endgame approached, they found themselves in a stalemate once again.
