Chapter 18: Visiting as a Guest

It’s much like playing cards with a terrible hand: you barely manage to counter Zhang Peiyue’s straight, but he still has a bomb in his hand. Unless you force that bomb out, the rest of your cards are unplayable. You can’t take the bomb yourself, so you have to encourage your partner to wipe him out for you, and maybe pick up a small card in the process.

Those street chess hustlers, who set up their stalls to swindle a couple of bucks, aren’t the worst villains, but they’re still a blight on society. Letting them duke it out with the school’s delinquents is a classic case of driving the tiger to swallow the wolf; in their case, it’s just dogs biting dogs. If a bunch of grown men can’t handle a crowd of middle schoolers, they’d best not show their faces again.

“I’d love to march in alone, take on ten at once, and knock them all out—but it’s just not realistic! Two or three like Zhang Peiyue wouldn’t be a problem, but up against Lü Qi, even if we each grabbed an arm, neither of us would have enough strength. How could we fight? All you do is talk tough!”

Wen Xiaodao, walking beside him, laughed. “True enough—a real man bends when he must and stands tall when he can. This act of playing the martyr isn’t half bad, but if we can’t win, we could always train. Start learning martial arts at fifteen; you won’t become a grandmaster, but beating up a few street punks your own age should be a breeze.”

A clever mind also needs a strong body as its foundation. In today’s world, intelligence alone isn’t enough to solve every problem. Put someone like Hawking in this situation, and he’d probably get slapped around by those little thugs. In the schoolyard jungle, the brains of Hawking or Einstein are no match for Bruce Lee’s fists.

Wen Xiaodao was a persona that Xiaocheng had separated from his own thoughts—this allowed him to set aside feelings and look at problems objectively, making the inner dialogue akin to seeing things from another angle, and thus grasping them more fully.

It also helped to stave off loneliness.

The old man who played chess lived just across the river in Riverside Gardens—a few steps away. The neighborhood was strictly managed, requiring registration and confirmation with residents before entry. Following the address to Building Four, Apartment 301, Xiaocheng knocked on the door. When the old man saw Xiaocheng at the threshold, he grinned, but the smile flickered and quickly turned to a frown. “Kid, how did you end up like this? Was it those chess hustlers who hit you? Granddad will go find them for you!”

Xiaocheng had only a few bruises, the worst being the slap that left his face a bit red and swollen, but it would fade in a few hours. To him, such injuries were trivial, and the old man seemed to realize it, opening with a teasing remark.

“Old man, you’re already like a grandfather to me, so what’s the point of us playing these family jokes? Anyway, I suggest you steer clear of that chess stall from now on,” Xiaocheng said, changing his shoes without ceremony. Noticing the old man’s trousers hanging by the door—ones he’d worn earlier—he took them down, pulled two hundred yuan out of the back pocket, and waved it at the old man. “Grandpa, this is my money—I got it back.”

Despite his dignified appearance, the old man had a mischievous streak and bantered easily with Xiaocheng.

He was genuinely puzzled about the money in his pocket, letting Xiaocheng inside and asking, “When did your money end up in my pocket?”

“You forgot? At the alley entrance, I said I was about to get beaten up by those chess stall guys, and you tried to hold me back. That’s when I slipped the money into your pocket. Your alertness isn’t up to much—if I could slip in two hundred yuan, a pickpocket could easily take it out!” Xiaocheng replied, glancing around the room. The old man’s finances were clearly solid: a spacious apartment over a hundred square meters, just for him; the floors laid with red pine; a plasma TV at least fifty inches mounted on the wall; an enormous fish tank in the living room’s feng shui spot—big enough for Xiaocheng to bathe in—with a few commonplace fish inside. Redwood tea table, redwood sofa, and a calligraphic piece in gold characters on a red background hung on the wall behind: “Vigor, Vitality, Spirit!” It suited the old man’s style.

“Grandpa, your home is quite grand!”

The old man didn’t treat Xiaocheng with any disdain despite his youth. After seating him on the sofa, he went to prepare tea, but Xiaocheng stopped him: “Grandpa, don’t bother—I can’t drink tea. If I do, I won’t sleep tonight.”

The old man laughed, set down the tea caddy, and fetched a soda from the fridge, handing it over. “I forgot, kids your age all like this. There’s also almonds and beef jerky—when we review the game in a bit, you’ll have something to snack on.” The old man liked children, eager to share all his treats with Xiaocheng.

Xiaocheng was indeed thirsty, and drank without reserve. The big almonds were imported from the United States, probably expensive, with a rich taste in every bite.

Once they settled in, they exchanged introductions. The old man’s surname was Dai—a retired professor. His children lived abroad, but he refused to leave his homeland, so he sold his city apartment and moved back to his hometown, seeking roots in retirement. With nothing much to do each day, he enjoyed playing chess. He knew the street chess stall was a scam, but joined in for fun—thirty or fifty yuan was nothing to him, as long as it brought some amusement.

“Kid, I meant to ask: why did you slip the money into my pocket?”

The old man saw the world as a far happier place than it was. “Professor Dai, think about it: I’m so adorable, why would they beat me up? Because I won two hundred yuan from them. They’d never let me keep the money if they beat me up. If I hadn’t slipped it into your pocket, how could it have survived?”

“You had just left. If they couldn’t find the money, they’d beat you even harder. You value your life over your money!”

As they chatted, the chessboard was already set on the tea table. Xiaocheng, with his excellent memory, laid out the ‘Great Western Campaign’ game, explaining, “If I’d hidden the money, they wouldn’t have let me go until I handed it over. I told them the money was with you—you’d taught me the ‘Great Western Campaign’ and the ‘Nine Conquests of Central Plains,’ and paid me ten yuan for each win. The two hundred yuan I won went to you. Otherwise, why do you think I told you to avoid the chess stall in the future?”

Old Dai’s hand, hovering over the chess pieces, paused midair. In his mind, a herd of white-furred alpacas stampeded—the injustice was staggering. “Can I curse out loud?”

“They wouldn’t dare touch you anyway. If they beat you up, they’d be doing your son a favor. I guess I borrowed your tiger’s prestige,” Xiaocheng said.

The phrase “borrowing the tiger’s prestige” was meant to flatter the old man’s boldness, but he couldn’t help but sense a hint of “sacrificing the pawn to save the carriage.”

“So I’m the mastermind? I figured out the chess moves, used a kid to win money, and let him take the fall while I ran off with the cash? How rotten would my character have to be to pull something like that?” The old man wore an aggrieved expression—utterly innocent, yet bearing the blame.

Xiaocheng was unconcerned. “Don’t worry—do you really care what a few scammers think of you?”

On reflection, the old man realized that even scammers had their woes. If he, an old man, could be used as a shield for a child, he still had some value.

“Xiaocheng, let me ask: if you’d left with me today, you wouldn’t have gotten beaten up. Why did you insist on holding me back? What’s the real reason?”

Xiaocheng smiled. “I cross this bridge every day after school. If I take two hundred yuan from them today and they don’t beat me up, they’ll cause trouble for me sooner or later. Besides, today’s fight is actually to my advantage. Grandpa, later I’ll invite you to watch a show. How about it?”

——————

Updated every day at 18:48 sharp. Please vote if you enjoy.