After the school beauty rejected me, I became her mom's number one fan!

Ning Xiuyang looked out the window for a while.

Then he lowered the curtains, walked back to the bedside, and picked up his phone.

5:11.

He put his phone back on the bedside table, lay down, and closed his eyes.

I don't want to sleep.

Give yourself five minutes to not think about anything.

He has to get up in five minutes.

Because Qiao Jingtang had arranged to play chess at nine o'clock in the morning.

We must win this game.

……

The chessboard has been set up.

Both sides, red and black, occupy their respective positions.

Qiao Jingtang sat on the north side of the stone table, his gray-blue jacket buttoned up to the top.

The breakfast dishes had been cleared away, and the stone table had been wiped clean, leaving only the chessboard and two freshly brewed cups of tea.

Ning Xiuyang sat facing south.

Red first, then black.

The old man held the red [stone].

Qiao Jingtang raised his hand, and moved the cannon to the fifth rank.

The opening move is a central cannon.

Ning Xiuyang didn't rush. He moved his horse from rank 8 to rank 7, then raised his pawn and moved his advisor.

The first three steps were taken steadily and smoothly, without any swaying or erratic movements.

He knew this game of chess was more than just chess.

The old man arranged this game not to win, but to finish what he needed to say on this small chessboard.

Qiao Jingtang's flying image.

The old-school, traditional approach is to start by establishing a solid foundation, rather than pursuing a quick attack.

He placed each piece without hesitation, his fingers gripping the piece, and slammed it onto the board with a crisp "snap," as clear as snapping his fingers in the yard.

Ning Xiuyang responded in a proper and conventional manner.

Jump the horse, set up the cannon, and move the chariot.

Step 4, Step 5, Step 6.

The courtyard was so quiet that only the sound of chess pieces being placed on the board could be heard.

Two sparrows were arguing in the pomegranate tree. After chirping and making a fuss for a while, they flew away.

When Qiao Jingtang reached the seventh step, he fired a cannon at Ning Xiuyang's flank soldier.

It was a casual move, seemingly harmless, but its placement was tricky, blocking the Black rook's escape route.

Ning Xiuyang re-examined the chessboard.

The old man's chess style is like his personality: unassuming and not aggressive, but every piece is placed in an uncomfortable position.

Step 8, Step 9.

The two players quietly made their moves.

The teacups on the stone table were steaming, but no one touched them.

Step 10.

Qiao Jingtang moved the red cannon to the middle lane.

Then he spoke.

I didn't sleep last night.

Ning Xiuyang's fingers had just picked up the black horse when they stopped in mid-air.

"I heard sounds coming from Fei Yu's room."

His tone was flat, as if he were talking about the weather this morning.

Ning Xiuyang paused for a moment, but immediately put the black horse down.

Horse moved from 4 to 3, and made the right move.

"Old Qiao already knows."

Qiao Jingtang snorted.

The voice was very nasal, as if something had been held back all night and was leaking out of the nasal cavity.

"I've lived in this courtyard for forty years. I know exactly what sound each step makes."

He moved his chariot one step down and captured one of Ning Xiuyang's pawns that had crossed the river.

"When Jinlin came out of her mother's room, she sat in the courtyard for almost half an hour."

Ning Xiuyang remained silent.

he knows.

He saw the scene from behind the window: the grandfather and grandson were sitting at the stone table, not saying a word, just sitting there.

That scene was more intense than all the conflicts from last night combined.

Qiao Jingtang did not look at him.

The old man's gaze was fixed on the chessboard, but his focus was blurred, as if he were looking at something else through the chessboard.

"The best thing I ever did in my life was to go into politics."

He paused for a moment.

"The biggest mistake I made was not managing my household well."

He moved the red car one step to the side.

It's not an attack, it's a repositioning.

"Feiyu's ex-husband... I was the one who gave the approval to let him in."

Ning Xiuyang did not respond.

He could sense the weight of those words.

Qiao Jingtang wasn't chatting with him; he was rummaging through the bottom of the box.

An 82-year-old man stayed up late at night, listening to his granddaughter's footsteps echoing back and forth in the corridor.

That feeling cannot be summed up by anger.

"Back then, I thought that kid came from a respectable family, had studied abroad, and was a decent person."

Qiao Jingtang's voice dropped by half a octave.

"Only after you step inside do you realize he's soft-hearted at heart. He started staying away from home the year Fei Yu and Huai Jinlin were born. Later, he ran away with a French woman. He even had someone send the divorce papers back to him."

The piece was pressed down with a little more force than before.

"I misjudged it."

Three words: dry and hard, like a crushed peanut shell.

Ning Xiuyang moved his rook, not to attack, but to give the old man a space in his game.

It's not deliberate, but it's natural.

Qiao Jingtang either didn't notice, or he did notice but didn't say anything.

He continued speaking.

"Feiyu told me about her and you."

The air on the stone table grew colder.

"I've lived for eighty-two years. What absurd things haven't I seen?"

He raised his head and looked directly at Ning Xiuyang.

"But it's still a tough job if your own daughter does it."

The red cannon moved sideways and captured Ning Xiuyang's right chariot.

The black side on the chessboard suddenly lost a support.

"Do you know why I didn't kick you out?"

Ning Xiuyang stared at the chessboard for two seconds, not thinking about the moves.

He moved the remaining black car to the center line.

"Because Mr. Qiao couldn't bear to part with it."

Qiao Jingtang's chess piece was suspended in mid-air.

The red cannon was held between the fingertips, and the knuckles of the index finger and thumb turned white.

three seconds.

"What are you reluctant to part with?"

Ning Xiuyang raised his eyes.

"I can't bear to let Jinlin live alone for eighteen years like her mother."

The chess piece landed half an inch off course.

The red cannon struck the line of the Chu River and Han border with a muffled thud, and landed crookedly between the two intersections.

Qiao Jingtang did not straighten that chess piece.

His hand rested on the edge of the chessboard, the skin on the back of his hand loose and covered with brown spots.

The hand trembled slightly, not because of the cold.

The wind blew from the north into the courtyard, rustling the leaves of the poplar trees.

The old man lowered his head and used his fingernail to straighten the misaligned red firecracker back into place.

The movements are very slow.

He didn't say anything more.

The game has reached an endgame.

Qiao Jingtang was left with only one cannon and one official post.

Ning Xiuyang also has two cars.

The cannon is used against the artillery.

Black can checkmate in just two moves.

Ning Xiuyang withdrew the left chariot from the general's route.

They retreated to the south of the river boundary.

The second step was to move the right car one space to the side.

It looks like they're trying to encircle them, but they've actually left a gap in the corner.

The old man's cannon is still alive.

Qiao Jingtang looked at the chessboard for a while, then looked up.

Stop acting.

Ning Xiuyang did not deny it.

He didn't play the stubborn card, but he also didn't play the surrender card.

It was done with dignity, but not by kneeling down.

The balance was just right, within the limits that the elderly person could accept.

Qiao Jingtang snorted coldly.

The tone had lost its hostility; it sounded like someone was scolding a junior for being cunning.

But the difference between the content and the manner of the insults lies in the tolerance of an entire generation.

The game is over.

Qiao Jingtang picked up the chess pieces one by one and put them back into the wooden box.

My fingers accurately touched each one, placing the red ones on the left and the black ones on the right.

I don't look; I rely entirely on touch.

When he found the last Red Delicious, he spoke.

"Ning Xiuyang".

He didn't lift his head.

I don't care how many women are around you.

Red Shuai fell into the box with a soft sound.

"But Jinlin and Feiyu, if you dare to let them shed even a single tear of grievance..."

He raised his head.

At eighty-two years old, his eyes were already cloudy, with fine blood vessels on the whites of his eyes.

But when the gaze is focused, it is still like an old knife with a dulled blade but no broken spine.

"Even if I'm in a wheelchair, I'll personally settle the score with you."

Ning Xiuyang stood up and clasped his hands in a fist salute.

"I'll remember that."

The angle of his bend was two inches deeper than when we met yesterday.

It wasn't intentional.

I truly believe this old man deserves it.