Qin Dynasty: Who offended my frail and sickly minister?

Zhou Wenqing hadn't expected that Han Fei's call to him wouldn't come at the exact moment when it was time for him to make a move.

Why are they all acting so unpredictably?

Remembering his confident words, he felt embarrassed and slightly flushed. He quickly reached out to retrieve the black piece that had been carelessly placed on the chessboard, while still trying to smooth things over by saying:

"Unexpected, sorry, this move doesn't count. Let's start over!"

"How can it not count?"

Han Fei raised his hand, his fingertips lightly pressing on his wrist, firmly stopping his movement to collect the pieces, his tone resolute:

"Once a move is made, there's no going back, Zicheng. You've lost. It's time to end this."

No, I haven't decided what to say yet!

Zhou Wenqing inwardly groaned, pressing his fingertip against the misplaced black piece, subconsciously applying a little force, and refusing to let go.

His mind was in turmoil, his thoughts racing. After a moment, he looked up and met Han Fei's calm and composed gaze. His face already showed a deliberate act of unwillingness to admit defeat and a hint of cheating.

"I don't call this taking back a move, I call it adjusting. The way of chess is profound and valuable because of its flexibility."

He looked at Han Fei, a smile as natural as possible tugging at the corners of his lips, his tone feigning playfulness and sophistry, while a faint, almost imperceptible probing lurked in his eyes:

"Han Zi is learned, insightful, and broad-minded; surely he would be more... tolerant and generous than the average person?"

Han Fei frowned slightly, sensing that Zhou Wenqing's words had a hidden meaning.

In the past, he would always chase after Zicheng to play chess, and Zicheng would avoid him at all costs. But today, he was completely different. Not only did he take the initiative to invite Zicheng to play, but he also lost seven games in a row in just one hour!

Even if Zhou Wenqing's chess skills are terrible, they shouldn't be this bad, right?!

Moreover, he lost each game faster than the last. In the later games, his moves were like scattering rice on the board, completely without any strategy. Even when Han Fei won a series of games, he found it all rather boring.

The person opposite him didn't even show any sign of frustration; he was just lost in thought, as if he hadn't won at all, and there was none of the exhilarating feeling he used to have.

Even if Han Fei was slow to realize, he could tell that Zhou Wenqing was preoccupied with something, which was probably related to him. He decided to end things as soon as possible and ask the man what was wrong.

So he acted decisively, ruthlessly pushing Zhou Wenqing's fingertip away from the black piece:

"In chess, I've never heard of any concept of adjustment. Zicheng, once a move is made, it cannot be taken back. This is a principle even a three-year-old understands. Surely you don't understand it?"

"What do you mean there isn't? Just because you haven't heard of it doesn't mean there isn't. I could say even a three-year-old has heard of the word 'adjustment'!"

Zhou Wenqing stiffened his neck and attempted to argue.

His eyes darted around, and his gaze shifted to Fusu, who was standing to the side with his head down, neck hunched, trying to make himself as inconspicuous as possible.

I've been raising you for a thousand days, but I'm only using you for one. My good disciple, it's time for you to be put to good use!

Han Fei also turned his head and fixed his gaze on Fusu.

Fusu: "..."

Fusu froze, his scalp tingling slightly.

He looked back at Zhou Wenqing with pitiful helplessness, silently crying out in his heart:

Sir, your argument with Han Zi is a battle between two immortals. Whether I have the ability to get involved is another matter. The most important thing is that I am not a three-year-old child!

I'm just here to add tea; you can't expect me to put out the fire for you, can you?

He was filled with regret. He should never have heard the news that his teacher and Han Zi were playing chess here. Thinking that he had never witnessed his teacher's chess skills, he squeezed out his rare free time, excitedly grabbed his notebook that he used to record his teacher's words and actions, and rushed over to watch the game.

Now look what's happened! I haven't seen the master's profound chess skills, but I've been put on the hot seat myself!

Fusu clutched the blank notebook he carried with him, which was completely empty and closed, his face contorted with despair.

He quietly took half a step back, his knees slightly bent, looking like a rabbit ready to pounce at any moment.

"Sir, I suddenly remembered that I still have some official business to finish, so I'll take my leave now!"

Before he could finish speaking, Fusu had already turned around and was about to run away.

How could Zhou Wenqing possibly let go of this good apprentice who could buy him some time?

"stop!"

With just two words, he precisely caught Fusu's ankle.

The respectful and devoted disciple, who dared not disobey his master, turned around stiffly, a smile more painful than a grimace on his face, his voice stammering:

"Sir..."

"Good boy, Fusu." Zhou Wenqing immediately suppressed the stern voice he had used to stop him, his tone becoming almost eerily gentle: "It's just a matter of one sentence, very simple. After you've said it, go back to your work. It won't delay you."

Fusu's lips twitched. He opened his mouth, somewhat reluctant to lie, but when he met his master's overly eager, practically green-eyed eyes, the words that were about to come out took a detour:

"I...I heard it from someone else—"

"Why must Zicheng make things difficult for the eldest son?"

Han Fei interrupted him before he could finish speaking.

He glanced at Fusu's resolute expression, which screamed "I'm going all out," and said slowly and deliberately:

"As the ancients said, 'A gentleman observes a game of chess without speaking; the words of a petty person are not to be taken seriously.'"

"A little...little person?!"

Fusu cracked open.

Is it the villain he understands?

How could he, the eldest son of the mighty Qin Dynasty, be considered a villain?!

The next second, Han Fei leisurely explained, "When I was playing chess with Zicheng, whoever interrupted was neither a gentleman nor a villain, so who was he? Therefore, Zicheng..."

He paused, then shifted his gaze to Zhou Wenqing, a half-smile playing on his lips.

"There's no need to look at the eldest son; even if he speaks, it won't make a difference."

Fusu: "..."

The boy was speechless on the spot, his eyes fixed on Zhou Wenqing, his head drooping with a pitiful expression.

Sir, I tried my best, but I knew I was "useless," sob sob~

Feeling somewhat guilty towards his obedient student, Zhou Wenqing touched the tip of his nose and turned his eyes away.

Han Fei took in the subtle tension between the master and disciple, raised his index finger, and slammed it heavily on the table.

A soft "tap" sound seemed to fall beside his ear, and Zhou Wenqing was jolted awake, instantly pulled back from his guilty and absent-minded state.

"Ah—I was wrong, I shouldn't have taken back my move, okay?"

He quickly sat up straight, put on a smile, and while reaching for the chess pieces on the board and putting them back, he said:

"Let's play one more game! I'm sure I can win this time!"

Han Fei didn't move, nor did he reach out to help him pick up the pieces. He simply sat there quietly, watching Zhou Wenqing haphazardly mix the black and white pieces together, then carefully separate them one by one and put them back into the chess box.

One, two, three...

The sycamore leaves overhead swayed gently in the wind, rustling softly. Sunlight filtered through the gaps, falling on the chessboard, the light and shadow shifting back and forth with Zhou Wenqing's movements.

Even when only a few pieces remained on the chessboard, Zhou Wenqing was still slowly and methodically picking them up one by one. He held a black piece between his fingers, suspending it in mid-air, and hesitated to bring it back down. His gaze wandered, clearly indicating that he was daydreaming again.

Han Fei finally couldn't hold back any longer. He raised his hand and snatched the black piece from Zhou Wenqing's hand. Without even looking at it, he threw it into the chess box with a "thud," his movements swift and decisive.

"Zicheng, that's enough."

His voice wasn't loud, but it carried a certainty that made it impossible for anyone to continue pretending to be stupid.

"What are you hiding from me that you're so reluctant to tell me?"