Bang!
Deep on the second floor of Wenxuan Pavilion, a door opened, then closed.
At the sound, Zheng Yuanpei, whose face had been scrunched up like a chrysanthemum, sprang to his feet as if he'd found a savior.
He jumped up briskly and rushed over to the young woman.
"Oh, Shulan! My precious granddaughter, come here, come here!"
"Help me figure out how to play this game again. Those moves you taught me earlier didn't work!"
Zheng Shulan looked helpless. Seeing her grandfather like this instantly dispelled the frustration and embarrassment she'd felt over Fang Shuwen.
Instead, as if she'd just remembered something, she couldn't help questioning him:
"Grandpa, you didn't bet with someone again, did you?"
"Did that person come here today?"
"You didn't lose the Ghost Jade you promised me again, did you?"
Ever since that little thug had pinched her bottom at the temple fair, Zheng Shulan had decided to learn martial arts.
She didn't expect to become an expert. She only wanted to be able to defend herself and not get bullied.
When she told her grandfather about her decision, he'd been very supportive.
He'd said he would personally lay the foundation for her martial arts training.
And how would he do that? By using a Grand Martial Master's Dark Force, together with the energy in the Ghost Jade, to stimulate and transform her body.
After several days of basic training, Zheng Shulan's body had been almost fully conditioned by yesterday.
All that remained was for her grandfather to take action.
But unexpectedly, when her grandfather came back last night, he'd sheepishly told her that he'd lost the Ghost Jade meant to lay her foundation in a chess bet.
The Zheng Family was rich and powerful. One piece of Ghost Jade was nothing to them.
Zheng Shulan hadn't minded. It was only a one-day delay.
After all, her grandfather was a hopeless chess addict who loved playing despite his terrible skill.
Once they'd put the matter behind them, her grandfather had asked her to help him analyze the game.
They'd spent all morning at it today.
She'd shown him plenty of ways to respond.
She'd been sure that even if the person who'd beaten her grandfather yesterday came back, he wouldn't stand a chance.
But judging from what her grandfather had just said, he'd lost again!
"Well, um... Grandpa promises he'll find you an even better piece tomorrow! I promise it'll give you a martial arts foundation worthy of a genius!"
Zheng Yuanpei awkwardly assured her.
But clearly, his granddaughter Zheng Shulan didn't believe him.
"Forget it, Grandpa. I've already asked Dad to buy me one."
"So, shall we study the game?" Zheng Yuanpei asked.
An hour later,
in the room.
"You can actually play it that way!"
Zheng Shulan stared in disbelief at the game she'd thought she'd completely analyzed.
But when they replayed the game just now, her opponent's moves had been unexpected and intricately linked, effortlessly dismantling several of the responses she'd come up with.
After her shock wore off, Zheng Shulan couldn't help asking:
"Who is this master, anyway?"
"What master? He's just a young fellow, about your age. If you'd come back a little earlier, you might've run into that sly brat!"
Zheng Yuanpei pursed his lips.
If the boy had been a master of chess, he could have accepted it. But he was just a young man, probably still a student.
At his age, losing to his granddaughter was one thing.
That would just mean she'd surpassed him. Anyone who heard about it would praise his precious granddaughter.
But losing to some youngster barely out of his teens?
That was humiliating.
"About my age? He just left, not long ago?"
Zheng Shulan murmured to herself, and an unpleasant face came to mind.
Could it be that little thug?
No, that couldn't be right.
This man's style of play was upright and dignified. He couldn't possibly be that kind of lowlife!
Someone around her age had such remarkable skill at chess.
She wondered who it was. She really wanted to meet him!
After leaving Wenxuan Pavilion, Fang Shuwen had no idea someone was already thinking about him.
It was still early, and he wasn't in a hurry to head back.
He felt the Ghost Jade in his schoolbag, then the two silver dollars left in his pocket.
He'd won five yesterday, given two to Old Fang, and kept three for himself.
That wasn't nearly enough to buy Ghost Jade at the National Martial Arts Hall.
He needed to make more money.
He walked along East Street for a while, then found a shady spot at the intersection three streets from Wenxuan Pavilion. He spread his cloth schoolbag on the ground, set out the chessboard, and arranged the pieces.
Then he propped up his sign.
He sat on a low stool without calling out, waiting quietly.
Good wine feared no deep alley; good chess feared no lack of challengers.
Sure enough,
before even the time it took to burn a stick of incense had passed, a middle-aged man in a silk shirt came over.
He looked like the owner of a small shop, with a slight paunch and a folding fan in his hand.
"Young man, how about a game? One dollar if I win, fifty cents if I lose?"
"That's right."
"Good. Let's play."
The middle-aged man wasn't bad at chess, but that was all.
Fang Shuwen spotted him a knight, then deliberately won by just half a point.
The middle-aged man didn't get angry. He cheerfully tossed down a silver dollar and asked for another game.
A little while later, after "fighting hard," the middle-aged man lost again, this time by a single point.
"Again!"
An hour later, the middle-aged man wiped the sweat from his forehead!
His face looked grim. He hadn't won a single game today.
He'd lost three silver dollars.
By now, he couldn't possibly have failed to realize that the boy's chess skill was far above his own.
Otherwise, Fang Shuwen wouldn't have made him lose by just one point every time.
"Young man, you play a fine game. Your old brother's worn out for today. I'll be off!"
Making up an excuse, the middle-aged man stood and left.
Fang Shuwen put away the silver dollars and waited a while longer, but no one came.
By then,
dusk had fallen, and the shops along the street were lighting their lamps one by one.
Fang Shuwen packed up the chessboard and headed for West Street.
There was a roast chicken shop on West Street, an old-established place. The chef's cooking was excellent.
Old Fang had taken the original owner there once.
The taste had stayed with him ever since.
He spent one silver dollar on two roast chickens, wrapped them in oiled paper, and stuffed them into his schoolbag, planning to bring both home for Old Fang.
Just as he was about to head back, he noticed the tavern nearby.
After thinking it over, he turned in.
Old Fang's liquor had run out months ago, but he'd been reluctant to buy more.
Fang Shuwen entered the tavern. The proprietor was bent over an abacus, clicking the beads. He glanced up at Fang Shuwen.
Seeing a student in a gray uniform, he lowered his head again and named the price flatly.
Fang Shuwen didn't mind. He paid, picked up the flask, and was about to leave.
Suddenly, he heard someone at a table in the corner mention "Fang Shuwen."
He stopped, then casually shifted half a step to the side, turning his back to the table and pretending to read the liquor prices posted on the wall.
But his ears perked up.
"Heh. Last time, I took ten dollars from you and used the chance to punch that poor student. Even if he didn't die, he wouldn't be getting out of bed for ten days or half a month."
"So what? You want me to rough him up again today?"
"You want me to kill someone? This isn't enough money!"
A man with a nasal, ducklike voice spoke, sounding rather dismissive.
He'd heard his bones crack when he hit the boy. He knew exactly how hard he'd punched.
It wasn't enough to kill him, but injury was inevitable.
Without a skilled doctor, the boy would be stuck in bed for at least ten days or half a month.
"Hmph. Old Chen, what the hell did you do?"
"That kid showed up at Wenxuan Pavilion today, looking perfectly fine."
"Impossible. I know how hard I hit him. He couldn't have recovered that quickly!"
"Why would I lie to you? If you don't believe me, go to his house tomorrow and see for yourself."
"Fine. If it's really as you say, don't worry. I'll make sure to break one of his legs and keep him off his feet for three to five months," the man with the nasal voice said.
"Just breaking one leg won't do. This time, finish him off. Wait for me at the usual place. I'll get the money and meet you there."
The other man spoke again.
At that moment,
Fang Shuwen turned his head slightly and, by the dim glow of the tavern's kerosene lamps, glanced at them from the side.
What a coincidence.
They were familiar faces.
One of them was the man who'd punched the original owner at the temple fair, pretending to be a "do-gooder."
The other had his back to Fang Shuwen, so his face was hidden.
But from the voice, he sounded like Liu Mang, one of Guo Ziming's lackeys.
Judging by what they'd just said, the man had been paid by Liu Mang to punch the original owner at the temple fair.
So,
the original owner hadn't been beaten by chance. It had been a deliberate attack!
What exactly was Liu Mang trying to do?
Why had he sent someone to hurt the original owner?
And now he even wanted him dead!
Fang Shuwen's mind raced.
He and Liu Mang had once both been followers of Guo Ziming.
They'd schemed against each other plenty of times, trying to outdo one another.
But in the end, they'd only played harmless little tricks.
It wasn't enough to make the stingy Liu Mang willing to spend ten silver dollars to hire someone to target him.
Unless...