"Chinese chess?"
The old man frowned, his gaunt face full of puzzlement. "Never heard of it!"
"That only makes it more interesting!"
As Jiang Xiaobai spoke, his smile broadened.
Indeed, he knew full well how powerful the lure of chess could become once it took hold.
In his previous life, whether in a park or on a street corner, the moment someone set up a game, a dozen old men would soon gather around.
The two players would battle until their faces flushed, while the spectators grew even more anxious than they were.
They could hardly resist reaching out to move a piece or two themselves, then holding forth on how to command the battlefield.
Surely this game passed down through Chinese history would utterly captivate the old man before him?
With that thought, Jiang Xiaobai looked around, soon spotted some paper and a brush nearby, and brought them over.
First, he drew the board on the paper, leaving out nothing: the river boundary, the palaces, and the lines.
Then Jiang Xiaobai fetched several more sheets, folded them repeatedly, and tore them into squares of roughly equal size, writing characters for chariots, horses, cannons, and the other pieces on them.
To distinguish the two sides, he also added a little circle beside the characters on one side's pieces.
"That's it?"
Watching from the bed, the old man sneered. "With so few pieces, your game looks utterly simple!"
"Senior, if you can still say that later, I'll admit you're impressive!"
Jiang Xiaobai finished writing the last character, moved the table beside the bed, arranged the paper pieces, and began explaining.
At first, the old man was clearly a little impatient, occasionally knitting his brows.
To him, this game could not compare with his own.
But as he listened, he gradually sat