Chapter 88 : Chapter 88

Chapter 88: The Ancients

This ‍​‌‌​​‌​‌​‌‌‌‌​​‌​‌​​‌​‌​​‌‌‌​​​​​‌‌​​‌​​​‌‌​‌​​‌​‌​​‌​​‌​​‌‌​‌‌​​‌​​‌​​‌​‌‌​‌‌‌​​‌‌​‌‌​​​‌​‌​‌​‌​‌​​‌‌​‌​​‌‌​​‌‌​‌‌​​‌‌‌​‌‌‌‌​​​​‌‌​​​​‌​​‌‌​​​‌​‌‌​‌‌​​​‌​‌​‌‌​​‌​‌‌​​‌​‌‌‌‌​‌​​‌​‌​‌‌​​‌‌‌‌​​​​‌‌​​​​‌​‌​‌​‌​‌​‌‌‌​‌​​​​‌‌​‌​‌​‌​‌‌​​‌​‌‌​‌​​‌​‌‌‌​‌​​​‌​‌​‌‌‌​‌​​‌​‌‌​​‌‌​​‌​​‌​‌​​‌​​‌​‌​​‌​​‌‌​​‌​​​​‌‌​​‌​​‌‌​​​‌‌​​‌‌‌​​‌​‌​‌​​​​​‌​‌​​‌‌​‌​​‌​​‌​‌‌‌​​‌‌​‌​​‌​​‌​‌‌​‌‌‌​​‌​‌‌​‌​​‌‌​‌​​​​‌‌​​​‌​​‌​​‌​​​​‌​‌​‌‌​​‌‌​‌‌​​​‌​​‌​​‌​‌‌​‌​‌​​‌‌​‌‌‌‌​‌‌​‌​​‌​‌​‌​​‌‌​‌​‌​‌​‌​‌‌​​‌​​​​‌‌​​​​​‌​​‌‌‌​​‌‌​‌‌​​​‌​​‌​‌​​‌‌​‌​‌​​‌‌​​​​‌​‌​‌​‌​‌​‌​‌‌​​‌​‌‌‌​‌‌​​‌‌​​​​‌​‌‌​‌‌‌​​‌​​‌‌‌​​‌​​​‌‌​​‌​‌​​​‌​​‌‌​​‌​​‌​‌​‌‌​​‌​‌​‌‌‌​‌‌​​​‌​​‌‌​‌‌‌​​‌​​‌​‌​​‌​​‌‌‌‌​‌‌​​​‌‌​‌​​‌​​​​‌​​‌‌‌​​‌​​​‌​​​‌​​‌‌‌​​​‌‌​​​‌​‌‌‌​​​​​‌​​‌​‌​​‌​‌​‌‌‌​‌​‌​‌​‌​‌​​‌​‌​​‌‌‌​​​​​‌​‌​‌‌‌​‌‌​‌‌​​​‌​​‌​‌​​​‌‌​​​‌​‌​‌​​‌‌​‌‌​‌‌​‌​‌‌‌​‌​​​​‌‌​‌​​​‌​​‌‌​‌​​‌‌​​​​​‌​‌‌​​‌​‌‌‌​‌‌​​‌​‌​​‌​​‌​‌​‌‌​​‌​‌​‌‌​​‌​​‌‌​‌​‌​‌​​‌​​​‌‌​​‌​​‌‌‌​​​​​‌‌‌​‌​​​‌‌​​​​‌​‌​​​‌​‌​‌​‌​‌‌​​‌‌‌‌​‌​​‌​‌​‌‌‌​‌​​​‌‌‌​‌​‌​‌‌​​‌‌‌‌​​​​‌‌​​​‌‌​‌‌​‌​‌‌​‌​‌​​‌​​‌‌​‌​‌‌​‌‌​​‌​‌​‌‌​‌‌​‌​‌​​‌​‌​​‌​​​​‌‌​‌​​‌‌‌​​‌​‌‌​​​​‌‌​​‌​​​‌‌​‌‌​​​‌​​‌‌‌​​‌‌​‌‌​‌​​‌‌‌​​‌​‌​​‌​​​​‌‌​​​‌‌​‌‌​‌​​‌​‌‌‌​​‌‌​‌‌‌‌​​‌​‌​‌​‌​​​‌‌​‌‌​‌​‌‌‌​​​​​‌‌‌‌​​‌​‌‌​​‌​​​​‌‌​​​‌​‌​‌​​‌​​‌​‌​​​​​‌​‌​‌‌​​‌​‌​‌‌‌​‌‌‌‌​​​​‌​​​​‌​​‌​‌​‌​‌​‌‌​‌‌​​​‌‌​‌​​​​‌‌‌​​‌‌​‌​​‌‌​‌​‌​​‌​​​​‌‌​‌‌‌‌​‌‌‌​‌‌​​‌​​‌‌​‌​‌‌​‌​‌​​‌​‌‌​‌​​‌​​‌​‌‌​‌​​‌‌‌‌​‌​​​‌‌​​‌​‌​​‌​​‌‌​‌‌‌‌​‌​‌​‌‌​​‌‌​‌​‌‌​‌‌‌​‌​​​‌​‌​​‌‌​‌​‌​‌​​​‌​​​‌‌‌​‌‌​​‌‌‌​​‌‌​‌​‌​‌​​‌‌​‌​‌​‌​‌‌​​‌​​​‌‌​​​‌‌​‌​​​‌‌​​​‌​​‌​​​‌‌‌​‌‌​​‌​​​​‌‌​​‌‌​‌‌​​​​‌​‌‌​‌‌​‌​‌‌‌​​​​​‌‌​‌‌​​​‌‌​​​‌‌​‌​​‌​​​​‌‌​​‌​​​‌‌‌​​‌‌​‌​​‌‌‌​​‌​​​‌‌‌​‌‌​‌​‌‌​‌‌‌‌​​​​‌​​‌‌​‌​‌​‌​‌‌‌​‌‌​‌‌​​​​‌‌​​‌‌​‌​‌​‌‌‌​‌‌​‌‌​​​‌‌​​‌​​​‌​​​‌​​​‌​‌​​‌‌​​‌‌​​‌​​‌​​​‌‌​​‌‌‌​‌‌‌​‌‌​​‌​‌​‌‌​‌‌​‌​‌‌‌​​​​​‌​‌​‌‌‌​‌​‌​​‌‌​‌‌​‌‌​‌​​‌‌​​​‌​‌‌‌​​​‌​‌​‌‌​​‌​‌​‌​‌​​​‌​​​​‌​​​‌‌​‌​​​‌​​‌​‌‌​‌‌‌‌​‌​​‌​‌‌​‌​​​‌‌​​​‌​‌‌​​‌​‌​‌​‌​‌‌​​‌‌​‌‌‌‌​​‌‌​​​‌​‌​‌​‌​​​‌​‌​‌​‌​‌​‌​‌‌​​​‌‌​​​​​‌​‌​​​‌​‌​‌‌​​​​‌​​​​‌​​‌‌​‌​‌‌​‌‌​​​‌​​‌​​‌​​​​‌​​‌​​‌​‌‌‌​​‌​​‌‌​​​‌‌​‌‌​‌‌​​​‌​‌‌​‌​​‌​‌​‌​‌​‌​‌​​‌​​‌​‌​‌​‌​​‌‌‌​​‌​‌​​​​‌​​‌‌​​‌​​​‌‌​‌‌‌​​‌‌​‌​​​​‌‌‌‌​​‌​‌‌​​​​‌​‌‌​‌‌​‌​​‌‌​​​‌​​‌‌​​‌‌​‌​‌​​​​​‌​‌​‌​​​​‌‌​​​​​‌‌​‌​​‌​‌​​‌‌​​​‌​​​​‌‌​‌​​‌​‌​​‌‌‌​‌​​​‌​‌‌​​‌​‌​‌​‌‌‌​‌​​‌‌​‌​‌‌​‌​​‌​‌​​‌‌‌‌​‌‌​‌​​‌​‌​​‌​‌​​‌‌​‌​‌​​‌​​‌‌‌​​‌​‌​‌‌‌​‌​​‌​​‌​​‌‌​​​‌​‌​​‌‌‌​​‌​‌​‌‌‌​‌​‌‌​​‌​​‌‌​​​​​‌​​‌‌‌​​‌​​​‌​​​‌‌​​​‌‌​​‌‌​‌​‌​‌​​‌‌​‌​‌​‌​‌‌‌​‌​​‌‌​‌​‌‌‌‌​​​​‌​‌‌​​‌​‌‌‌‌​‌​​‌​‌‌​​‌​​‌‌​​‌​​‌​​‌‌‌‌​‌​‌​‌​​​‌​​​‌​‌​​‌‌​​‌​​‌​​‌‌‌​​​‌‌​​‌​​‌​​‌​​‌​​‌‌​‌​​​‌​‌‌​​‌​‌‌​‌‌​‌​‌​​​‌​‌​‌‌‌​‌‌‌​‌​​‌‌‌‌​‌​​​‌​​​‌​​​‌‌​​‌‌​‌​‌‌​‌​‌‌​​‌​‌​‌​‌​​​‌​‌​​​‌​​‌‌​‌​​​‌​​‌‌‌‌​‌​‌​‌​​​‌‌​​‌​​​‌‌​‌​​‌​‌​‌‌​‌​​‌​​​‌​​​‌​‌​‌‌​​‌‌​‌​​​​‌​‌‌​​‌​‌​‌​‌​​​‌​​‌​​‌​‌‌‌‌​​​​‌​‌‌​‌​​‌​​​‌‌‌​‌​‌​​​‌​‌‌‌‌​‌​​‌​‌‌​‌​​‌​​​‌​​​‌​‌​‌‌​​‌‌​‌​​​​‌​‌‌​​‌​‌​‌​‌​​​‌​​​​​‌​​‌‌​‌​‌​‌​​‌‌‌​​‌​​​‌​​​‌​​‌‌​‌​‌‌‌‌​​‌​‌​‌‌​​‌​‌‌​‌‌​‌​‌​‌​‌​‌​​‌‌​​‌‌​‌​‌‌​​‌​‌‌‌‌​‌​​‌​‌​​‌​​‌‌​‌​‌‌​‌​‌‌​‌​​‌‌​‌‌​‌​‌​​​‌​‌​‌‌‌‌​​​​‌​‌‌​​‌​‌‌‌‌​‌​​‌‌​‌​​​​‌‌​‌​‌​​‌​​‌​​‌​‌‌​‌​​‌​‌‌‌​‌‌‌​‌‌​‌​​‌​‌‌​​‌​​​‌​​​‌‌‌​‌​​​‌‌​​‌‌​‌‌‌​​‌​​‌​​‌​‌‌​‌​‌​​‌‌​‌‌‌‌​‌‌​‌​​‌​‌​​‌​​‌​‌‌​‌‌‌​​​‌‌​​​​​​‌‌‌‌​‌‍was bad.

Chen ‍​‌​​‌​​‌​‌‌‌​‌​​​​‌​​​​​​‌‌‌​‌‌‌​‌‌​​​​‌​‌‌‌​​‌‌​​‌​​​​​​‌‌​​‌​‌​‌‌​‌‌‌​​‌‌‌​‌​​​‌‌‌​​‌​​‌‌‌‌​​‌​​‌​​​​​​​‌‌​‌‌‌​‌‌​​‌​​​​‌‌​‌‌​​​‌‌​‌‌‌​​‌‌​‌‌​​​‌‌​​‌​​​‌‌​‌‌​​​‌‌​‌‌​​​‌‌​​‌‌​‌‌​​​‌‌​​‌​​​​​​‌‌​‌​​‌​‌‌​‌‌‌​​​‌​​​​​​‌‌‌​‌​​​‌‌​‌​​​​‌‌​​‌​‌​​‌​​​​​​‌‌​‌‌‌‌​‌‌​‌‌​​​‌‌​​‌​​​​‌​​​​​​‌‌​‌‌​​​‌‌​​‌​‌​‌‌​​‌​​​‌‌​​‌‌‌​‌‌​​‌​‌​‌‌‌​​‌​​​‌​‌‌‌​‍Ji's pupils contracted. His body's biological father was standing right in front of him, and he hadn't recognized the man.

How ‍​‌​​‌​​‌​‌‌‌​‌​​​​‌​​​​​​‌‌‌​‌‌‌​‌‌​​​​‌​‌‌‌​​‌‌​​‌​​​​​​‌‌​​‌​‌​‌‌​‌‌‌​​‌‌‌​‌​​​‌‌‌​​‌​​‌‌‌‌​​‌​​‌​​​​​​​‌‌​‌‌‌​‌‌​​‌​​​​‌‌​‌‌​​​‌‌​‌‌‌​​‌‌​‌‌​​​‌‌​​‌​​​‌‌​‌‌​​​‌‌​‌‌​​​‌‌​​‌‌​‌‌​​​‌‌​​‌​​​​​​‌‌​‌​​‌​‌‌​‌‌‌​​​‌​​​​​​‌‌‌​‌​​​‌‌​‌​​​​‌‌​​‌​‌​​‌​​​​​​‌‌​‌‌‌‌​‌‌​‌‌​​​‌‌​​‌​​​​‌​​​​​​‌‌​‌‌​​​‌‌​​‌​‌​‌‌​​‌​​​‌‌​​‌‌‌​‌‌​​‌​‌​‌‌‌​​‌​​​‌​‌‌‌​‍was he going to explain this?

In ‍​‌​​‌​​‌​‌‌‌​‌​​​​‌​​​​​​‌‌‌​‌‌‌​‌‌​​​​‌​‌‌‌​​‌‌​​‌​​​​​​‌‌​​‌​‌​‌‌​‌‌‌​​‌‌‌​‌​​​‌‌‌​​‌​​‌‌‌‌​​‌​​‌​​​​​​​‌‌​‌‌‌​‌‌​​‌​​​​‌‌​‌‌​​​‌‌​‌‌‌​​‌‌​‌‌​​​‌‌​​‌​​​‌‌​‌‌​​​‌‌​‌‌​​​‌‌​​‌‌​‌‌​​​‌‌​​‌​​​​​​‌‌​‌​​‌​‌‌​‌‌‌​​​‌​​​​​​‌‌‌​‌​​​‌‌​‌​​​​‌‌​​‌​‌​​‌​​​​​​‌‌​‌‌‌‌​‌‌​‌‌​​​‌‌​​‌​​​​‌​​​​​​‌‌​‌‌​​​‌‌​​‌​‌​‌‌​​‌​​​‌‌​​‌‌‌​‌‌​​‌​‌​‌‌‌​​‌​​​‌​‌‌‌​‍this era of feudal superstition, if you couldn't recognize your own father, you'd be treated as something possessed and burned alive.

Chen ‍​‌​​‌​​‌​‌‌‌​‌​​​​‌​​​​​​‌‌‌​‌‌‌​‌‌​​​​‌​‌‌‌​​‌‌​​‌​​​​​​‌‌​​‌​‌​‌‌​‌‌‌​​‌‌‌​‌​​​‌‌‌​​‌​​‌‌‌‌​​‌​​‌​​​​​​​‌‌​‌‌‌​‌‌​​‌​​​​‌‌​‌‌​​​‌‌​‌‌‌​​‌‌​‌‌​​​‌‌​​‌​​​‌‌​‌‌​​​‌‌​‌‌​​​‌‌​​‌‌​‌‌​​​‌‌​​‌​​​​​​‌‌​‌​​‌​‌‌​‌‌‌​​​‌​​​​​​‌‌‌​‌​​​‌‌​‌​​​​‌‌​​‌​‌​​‌​​​​​​‌‌​‌‌‌‌​‌‌​‌‌​​​‌‌​​‌​​​​‌​​​​​​‌‌​‌‌​​​‌‌​​‌​‌​‌‌​​‌​​​‌‌​​‌‌‌​‌‌​​‌​‌​‌‌‌​​‌​​​‌​‌‌‌​‍Liqin stood before him in a blue official's robe with a leather belt, his face tanned nearly black from months of supervising construction at the river dykes.

Unlike ‍​‌​​‌​​‌​‌‌‌​‌​​​​‌​​​​​​‌‌‌​‌‌‌​‌‌​​​​‌​‌‌‌​​‌‌​​‌​​​​​​‌‌​​‌​‌​‌‌​‌‌‌​​‌‌‌​‌​​​‌‌‌​​‌​​‌‌‌‌​​‌​​‌​​​​​​​‌‌​‌‌‌​‌‌​​‌​​​​‌‌​‌‌​​​‌‌​‌‌‌​​‌‌​‌‌​​​‌‌​​‌​​​‌‌​‌‌​​​‌‌​‌‌​​​‌‌​​‌‌​‌‌​​​‌‌​​‌​​​​​​‌‌​‌​​‌​‌‌​‌‌‌​​​‌​​​​​​‌‌‌​‌​​​‌‌​‌​​​​‌‌​​‌​‌​​‌​​​​​​‌‌​‌‌‌‌​‌‌​‌‌​​​‌‌​​‌​​​​‌​​​​​​‌‌​‌‌​​​‌‌​​‌​‌​‌‌​​‌​​​‌‌​​‌‌‌​‌‌​​‌​‌​‌‌‌​​‌​​​‌​‌‌‌​‍Zhang Zhuo's ruddy complexion, Chen Liqin looked less like a civil official and more like a military officer.

Prince Jing looked at Chen Liqin with curiosity. "Deputy Prefect Chen, was it you who taught Chen Ji his Go? Your own game must be quite remarkable."

Chen Liqin cupped his hands. "This humble official has no talent for Go, nor have I ever taught him. My worthless son is mud that won't stick to the wall. If he won against Your Highness, it was surely because you were generous."

At the words "worthless son," Chen Ji thought of his real father -- the one who had passed away.

That father had been a modest man. But when thirteen-year-old Chen Ji won second place at a Go tournament, he'd grinned and told everyone within earshot, "The kid only plays in his spare time. Otherwise none of you would stand a chance." He'd infuriated every other player in the room.

Zhang Zhuo chimed in with a smile. "Your Highness, your Go reached the highest level long ago. I recall that literary gathering in Jiangnan seven years ago, when you played the abbot of Famen Temple. Monk Huitong placed his one-hundred-and-thirty-seventh stone and assumed you'd resign. He even dropped his meditative composure -- satisfaction was written all over his face. But what he got instead was your brilliant dig on the one-hundred-and-thirty-eighth move, unraveling everything he'd built. Surely young Chen Ji only won because you gave him a handicap?"

Prince Jing smiled. "I did give him a two-stone handicap, but only in the first game. After that, even without a handicap, I lost several in a row."

Zhang Zhuo and Chen Liqin both turned to stare at Chen Ji.

Prince Jing picked up a stone and explained. "Chen Ji is an unorthodox talent at Go. Play him sometime and you'll understand." He paused, then looked at Chen Liqin. "Though I can't help noticing a certain distance between you and your son. You didn't greet each other, and just now Chen Ji addressed you as 'my lord' rather than 'Father.'"

Chen Ji's heart, which had been suspended alongside the Heir and Baili's, now crashed to the ground.

He'd thought everyone's attention had moved on to Go. Where had this follow-up blow come from?

Chen Liqin glanced at Chen Ji and turned back to Prince Jing. "Your Highness, I confess I'm baffled. My son just looked at me as though I were a stranger."

Prince Jing regarded Chen Ji with amusement. "What's this -- you can't even recognize your own father?"

Chen Ji hesitated.

Just as he was scrambling for an answer, Old Man Yao spoke up, directing a cold laugh at Chen Liqin. "You sent Chen Ji to my clinic as an apprentice, and I've never once received a festival gift from your household. Now even his stipend is being delayed and pinched to nothing. If he doesn't want to acknowledge you, that's perfectly reasonable. You scholars love to preach about the proper bonds between ruler and minister, father and son. But when the father isn't kind, the son has no obligation to be filial."

Chen Ji was startled. He turned to look at his master.

Chen Liqin stiffened. "Physician Yao, please don't say such things. When I sent Chen Ji here, I specifically instructed the household staff to deliver his monthly stipend on time, and to prepare gifts for you on every holiday. The Chen family is steeped in propriety -- we would never neglect such courtesies."

Old Man Yao said mildly, "Oh, so I'm the liar? All I know is that I've barely seen any gifts from your household. And with the Chen family's wealth, why is it that you only send the boy three hundred wen a month? Hardly worthy of the Chen name. Tell you what -- don't bother with the stipend anymore. I'll take Chen Ji as my own adopted apprentice. I'll see to his food, clothing, and livelihood. He'll see to my old age."

Zhang Zhuo tucked his hands inside his sleeves. At the mention of "three hundred wen," he gave Chen Liqin a puzzled look.

The rank badge on Chen Liqin's robe alone was probably worth a hundred times that.

Ning Dynasty officials received their rank badges from the court, but many found the standard issue too plain and commissioned embroiderers to recreate them in gold and silver thread. It had become something of a fashion -- competitive spending on rank badges.

One badge cost thirty taels of silver. Yet his son received three hundred wen a month. There had to be bad blood between father and son.

Chen Liqin didn't argue further with Old Man Yao. He, too, sensed something was wrong.

After a silence, he asked, "Physician Yao, this past Mid-Autumn Festival, I specifically told the steward to send both a monetary gift and presents. He said a servant delivered them. Did you receive anything?"

Old Man Yao stroked his beard. "You mean the one hundred wen your servant brought? Yes, I received that. Thank you for the crumbs."

Chen Liqin: "..."

Chen Ji: "..."

His master's tongue was truly dipped in poison, from root to tip.

Chen Liqin's brow furrowed deeply. He cupped his hands to Old Man Yao. "Physician Yao, I will get to the bottom of this and give you a proper account."

Prince Jing smoothed things over with a smile. "There's clearly been some misunderstanding in the Chen household. I'm sure a servant made some error. The Chen family has been distinguished for generations -- bells and cauldrons, poetry and hairpins. They wouldn't stumble on a matter of etiquette like this. I remember when we were still in the capital, I often accompanied my second uncle on visits to the Chen residence. The family was warm, hospitable, and impeccably courteous... As I recall, Deputy Prefect Chen, you had just sat your autumn examinations around that time?"

Chen Liqin bowed. "Your Highness remembers correctly."

Prince Jing waved a hand. "Well, I have family matters of my own to attend to. Please take your leave, gentlemen. Come to Jing'an Hall tomorrow to discuss official business."

Chen Liqin turned to Chen Ji. "Chen Ji, come home with me. I'll sort this out today."

But Chen Ji fell silent.

He didn't want to go back to the Chen Mansion.

Chen Liqin shared his blood, but in his heart there was only one father, and he wasn't adding another.

Whatever entanglements the Chen family had -- from the moment he'd set those three hundred copper coins down outside the mansion gate, they'd ceased to be his concern.

In the quiet, Chen Ji stood behind the rosewood counter and cupped his hands toward Chen Liqin. "My lord, please go on without me. I still have coursework to review. Until my studies are complete, I won't be returning to the Chen Mansion."

"'My lord'?"

The Heir and Baili's eyes went wide simultaneously.

In this era, everyone was raised on the doctrine that ruler serves ruler, minister serves minister, father serves father, and son serves son. No one dared defy their own parent. Once branded as unfilial, neither high society nor officialdom would have you.

But Chen Ji did not belong to this era.

Chen Liqin's face darkened. "If you feel you've been wronged over the stipend, I'll investigate today. If you resent me for sending you to the clinic, think about what you did to deserve it. Must I, as your father, be the one to apologize?"

Chen Ji thought for a moment but ultimately chose not to produce Chen Wenxiao's written confession.

He simply smiled. "My lord misunderstands. I haven't been wronged. I'm doing well at the clinic -- Master takes good care of me, the other apprentices are kind, and my days are full. Please go. Patients are already lining up outside. Let's not keep them waiting."

Chen Liqin opened his mouth several times, each time stopping short.

Constrained by Prince Jing's presence, he couldn't make a scene. He could only sweep out with a curt, "Look after yourself."

...

...

The official sedan chairs departed. The Taiping Clinic was quiet again.

Prince Jing turned a stone in his fingers. "The Chen family's standing is something most people can only dream of. You're young, so you don't understand what you're giving up."

"Simple food and plain living suit me fine." Chen Ji looked at Old Man Yao. "Master, thank you."

Old Man Yao scoffed. "Don't thank me. Your tuition is still due."

Chen Ji: "...Understood."

Prince Jing looked back at the Heir. "We got sidetracked and never settled your punishment. What do you think would be fair?"

The Heir ventured cautiously, "One day without food?"

Prince Jing's expression hardened instantly. "Starting today, both your and Baili's allowances are revoked. You'll kneel in Mingzheng Hall for three days without food, and you're confined to the manor for six months."

The Heir went pale. "Father, isn't six months a bit long?!"

Baili panicked too. "Father, just confine my brother! Can't you leave me out of it?"

Prince Jing laughed with irritation. "You're all remarkably loyal to each other."

Chen Ji noticed that Prince Jing was patient about everything else, but when it came to his children, he was every inch the ordinary father who might snap at any moment and reach for a belt.

Baili and the Heir shot Chen Ji desperate looks, signaling him to think of something.

Six months of house arrest meant missing the Lantern Festival, missing the spring outings, rotting inside the manor walls.

Chen Ji spoke up. "Your Highness..."

Prince Jing raised a hand. "Not a word from you. You're implicated too. If not for Physician Yao's good name, you'd be punished alongside them."

Old Man Yao had just finished tying up Prince Jing's medicine parcel. He said blandly, "No need to spare my feelings."

Chen Ji said suddenly, "Your Highness, let's play one more game. If I win, you hear me out -- a chance for the Heir and the Princess to redeem themselves through service."

"Oh?" Prince Jing turned. "My lone-stone rescue is useless against you now. You're confident you can still win?"

Chen Ji rolled up his sleeves with care. "Let me try."

Prince Jing grew interested. "Holding back a hidden skill, are we? Guess for color."

He scooped up a handful of stones. Chen Ji said, "Odd."

Prince Jing opened his hand. Two stones fell. "Wrong. I play black."

Baili watched in astonishment. Her father ordinarily insisted on letting the weaker player take black. Now he was claiming first move like a general fighting for every inch.

Prince Jing opened with the impregnable corner, hoping to use a wall of thickness to crush white's isolated stones and stamp out Chen Ji's lone-stone tactics once and for all.

But this time, Chen Ji's white stones pressed straight into the thick wall without hesitation.

The weakness of an isolated stone was that it flickered like a candle in the wind, always on the verge of going out. But few realized that a thick wall had its own weakness: if you piled weight onto weight, the whole structure grew sluggish and clumsy.

Chen Ji's white stones landed like a deer leaping through mist -- unpredictable, ethereal, coldly rational.

Prince Jing was lost. His invincible corner formation -- a standard pattern that had never failed -- had been shattered in just four moves.

These moves overturned everything he knew. In every established pattern across the Ning Dynasty, being pressed from above during a pincer was a losing position. But in Chen Ji's hands, that press became an advantage.

Unthinkable.

Prince Jing was puzzled. "How did you turn a press into an advantage? Whose school is this?"

Chen Ji said nothing. He continued to play.

Prince Jing grew more bewildered with each move. In a mere seventy-two stones, he seemed to glimpse the shadows of every great master who had ever lived -- yet the play was entirely unlike any of them.

So Go could be played this way?

Prince Jing conceded. "Again. I'll take black."

Baili watched silently. Her father hadn't even bothered to guess for color. He was simply claiming black -- acknowledging he needed first-move advantage.

In the second game, Prince Jing opened with a different formation, aiming to build connected influence across three quadrants. But under Chen Ji's relentless pressure, the key stone meant to link everything together sat uselessly in the center, cut off.

The third game ended the same way. A rout.

Prince Jing looked at the board, then at Chen Ji. He tossed his black stone onto the table. He suddenly recalled what he'd said earlier: "You're not suited to be a player. You can only be a piece."

And Chen Ji had answered: "Must one live inside the board?"

For one fleeting moment, Prince Jing genuinely felt as though the person sitting across from him was not a young clinic apprentice but some ancient master of Go, seated in the river of time, playing against him across the centuries.

The wheel of an era, rolling lightly across the board, consigning the old age to history.

Prince Jing asked solemnly, "Young man -- who taught you Go?"

Chen Ji couldn't answer, because he couldn't tell Prince Jing these were the moves of an artificial intelligence.

Chen Ji had once shared Prince Jing's bewilderment. At thirteen, he'd won second place in a Go tournament and meant to keep improving. Then the age of AI arrived.

Humanity had always loved to imbue Go with philosophy and the Way of Heaven. But from the moment AI was born, Go became once again what it had always been -- a contest of memory and calculation. After that, Chen Ji had hardly touched the game.

He hadn't wanted to use AI-era innovations to beat Prince Jing. But now he had something more important to do.

Prince Jing exhaled slowly. "Alright, you've earned it. Tell me -- how do you plan to let Yunxi and Baili redeem themselves?"

Chen Ji thought carefully. "Your greatest dilemma is securing enough glutinous rice for the border fortifications. But rice mortar conflicts with feeding the population. If you take the rice by force, people will starve."

Prince Jing gathered stones into his palm, unhurried. "It's an impossible balance. The world doesn't offer many solutions that satisfy everyone. I can only make choices."

Chen Ji said with conviction, "I have a solution that satisfies everyone."

Prince Jing's hand stopped. "Requisitioning glutinous rice is a military matter. You do understand -- the military tolerates no jests?"

Chen Ji's voice was steel. "Lend me the Heir and the Princess for half a month. If I succeed, I'll sell you a solution that costs no rice and no lives. If I fail, the Heir and Princess are confined for a year, and I'll be exiled to Lingnan."

Prince Jing studied him for a long moment. "Deal."