Chapter 15: Nine Campaigns Against the Central Plains

Mid-game. At this point, the chessboard no longer offers a single solution. Black has three options, all considered correct, but each choice leads to differing developments. If the subsequent moves are played accurately, the result will still be a draw. Upon reaching this step, Wen Xiaocheng hesitated slightly, pondering for two minutes before finally opting for the “small retreat with the chariot.” Among the three choices, this was the one with the clearest subsequent variations.

The stall owner’s forehead was already beaded with sweat. Solving this chess puzzle was challenging, as one couldn’t rely solely on memorized game records, not knowing how the opponent might choose. It was a true test of actual chess skills. For instance, in the endgame record, Red is left with only a chariot and cannon, while Black has a chariot and two pawns. The record directly declares Black’s victory, but transforming this advantage into a win under Red’s tight defense is a matter of true ability. The stall owner had been playing for more than twenty years, but facing this young man, he found himself restricted and unable to display his skills.

After more than forty moves, the situation became clearer. According to the correct solution, ten more moves would lead to a draw. There was no need to continue. The stall owner reached out, lifted the chessboard, and stuffed the 110 yuan wagered underneath into Wen Xiaocheng’s hand. “You win! Solving my ‘Great Expedition West’ is truly remarkable. But young man, I’m not convinced. Dare to try again?”

Wen Xiaocheng smiled. Clearly, they were intent on letting him profit!

The onlookers murmured in amazement, their faces showing surprise. A child not yet in his teens, moving almost without thinking, so casual and unhurried, had easily solved the notorious ‘Great Expedition West’ that had stumped so many! Among those watching were experts in endgame puzzles, and of the Eight Legendary Endgames, the “Seven Stars Gathering” is hailed as the king among them. But this ‘Great Expedition West’ is considered king of kings, with even a single branch variation rivaling the Seven Stars Gathering in complexity. Its difficulty is beyond imagination. Some had tried inputting this endgame into a computer, but even then, the computer could not solve it perfectly, nor could it play the game record flawlessly. Amidst their astonishment, some began whispering about a “chess prodigy.”

The elderly man in glasses looked on with growing admiration. To so calmly and effortlessly break the ‘Great Expedition West’ showed the boy’s deep understanding of ancient records. He had no idea that Wen Xiaocheng had never studied the game records at all, but rather deduced everything on the spot. It’s no wonder the old man misunderstood; if word got out that a child could solve the Great Expedition West endgame within three or five minutes, no one in the entire chess world would believe it.

Another brand new endgame was set up. The stall owner, having lost 150 yuan, was feeling a bit irritated. This puzzle was a derivative of the “Great Nine Linked Rings,” which outwardly resembled the Eight Legendary Endgames’ version, but with the addition of a chariot and a horse, it introduced many new variations. The usual solution became a trap, while previous blunders now carried deadly intent. The stall owner’s family elders loved studying endgame puzzles, and he had grown up immersed in them. The variations for this Great Nine Linked Rings were developed by his father’s generation, gradually refined and named “Nine Conquests of the Central Plains.” To this day, no game record exists, and he believed no one in the community could crack it.

The stall owner pulled another hundred yuan from his pocket and placed it under the board. Wen Xiaocheng also handed over ten yuan.

“Same rules as before? Red moves first, then Black. I choose which side, and if it’s a draw, you win. How about it?” the stall owner probed.

Wen Xiaocheng, unhurried, eyes fixed on the board, had already begun his mental calculations. Wen Xiaodao sat opposite him, both moving pieces rapidly, dismantling the puzzle move by move. Barely a minute had passed, and the outcome was already clear.

“Red moves first, then Black, right? This time, I’ll choose which side, and if it’s a draw, you win.”

The stall owner was startled. This puzzle was different from before; it was a scenario where Black, moving second, would win. Was this boy able to see the outcome of the board?

But before he could worry, Wen Xiaocheng added, “I choose Red and will go first.”

Boy! You’re still too young! This is a setup where Black is guaranteed to win. I admit you have some skill, but this time, you’ve miscalculated!

At the opening, Red has a killer move, sending both cannons to the bottom to threaten with the chariot. But this is a trap; if played, Black can counter brilliantly and turn the tables. Wen Xiaocheng, of course, would not fall for it. He defended with a central cannon, guarding the camp’s heart and neutralizing the opponent’s hidden threat—an attack and defense combined, and indeed, the correct solution.

From here, both sides entered a stalemate, the board showing no blood or thunder, only moves that seemed idle but held latent power. Advancing a pawn seemed pointless now, but five or six moves later, its fangs would show. Without proper preparation, it would be impossible to recover then. If one couldn’t foresee the next ten moves, every step would seem baffling; those with lesser skill could not comprehend it at all.

“Nine Conquests of the Central Plains” is an apt name. War is not merely the clash of swords and guns; in essence, it is an extension of politics. Both sides rely not just on momentary bravery, but on a comprehensive contest of politics, economy, and even national strength. In this game, most attacks are probing, with more time spent on “internal affairs”—building up, preparing, all to accumulate a slight advantage. Yet a single misstep, and that advantage is lost, perhaps even to the point of being besieged.

Both sides tread as if on thin ice. Beneath the smokeless board, currents swirl unseen, and the elderly spectators admitted they could hardly follow. The two accomplices couldn’t interject either; at this level, they had no place. The man in glasses, however, watched with relish. With his skill, he could barely appreciate the subtleties move by move; if he were to play himself, he could never manage it, but replaying the moves afterwards, he found their brilliance lingering, like savoring wine, already three parts intoxicated.

The stall owner, holding Black, still had firm control of the situation. To this point, Red had performed admirably, but had not diverged from the record, and every response had its solution. The owner secretly admired the boy; no record existed for Nine Conquests of the Central Plains, and for the youth to play this well was honorable even in defeat.

But his satisfaction was short-lived. Suddenly, Red played a seemingly idle move, causing him to hesitate. On the board, Black had a guaranteed kill in four moves, so Red needed to preempt it; otherwise, a single misstep would lead to endless failure, never catching up. By rights, the boy’s skill was more than enough to see it, so what did this idle move mean? Because of the game record, the stall owner’s responses had been almost automatic, but now he was forced to think—had he miscalculated? There was no such variation in the record!

The stall owner carefully analyzed again, still unable to see the brilliance behind the move. Four moves later, his own kill seemed inevitable, and Red had no quicker threat. Had the boy miscalculated, failed to see it?

———

Today, while typing, I accidentally opened my old work “Immortal Leap,” and before I knew it, I had read through all 470,000 words. After finishing, I wanted to bow to myself in the mirror. One chapter a day—surely some readers are impatient. Go check out Old Dao’s previous works; anything by Old Dao is guaranteed quality. If not, come back and scold me.