Chapter 19: Blind Chess

On the coffee table sat a teapot and a chessboard. The air was thick with the fragrance of tea, steam curling upward between an old man and a young boy seated face-to-face. If not for the half-empty bottle of cola disrupting the aesthetic, the scene might have seemed the epitome of leisure and elegance.

They were engaged in a replay of the legendary "Great Western Campaign" chess endgame. Xiao Cheng meticulously restored every move, explaining each intricate trap and brilliant response in detail. Renowned as the king of chess endgames, this classic battle overflowed with subtlety and endless fascination. The art of war, with its shifting strategies and deceptions, was vividly brought to life on the chessboard. After listening and pondering over the moves, the old gentleman was full of admiration for Wen Xiao Cheng, praising him ceaselessly.

“Who taught you to play chess?” Professor Dai inquired.

Such skill surely came from a distinguished lineage, passed down through generations. For a boy in his teens to possess such mastery suggested a family with deep roots in the world of chess. The professor’s question was about the source of the chess manual, but Xiao Cheng, taking it literally, assumed he meant who had taught him to play—the basic rules like the horse moving in the shape of an ‘L’ and the elephant’s diagonal path. So he replied casually, “My father.”

And with that, the matter was dropped. Professor Dai concluded that this boy’s skill was indeed a family legacy, while Xiao Cheng thought nothing more of it. After the demonstration of the Great Western Campaign, the old man, still savoring the experience, immersed himself in personal analysis at the board, lost in the world of chess. With nothing else to do, Xiao Cheng stood up and began to wander, exploring the house.

The apartment had three bedrooms and a floor-to-ceiling balcony. Having grown up in a single-story house, Xiao Cheng had only seen such beautiful décor on television. The sitting room exuded a classic charm, and though the kitchen echoed a traditional style, it was thoroughly modern in design. Another door, left ajar, revealed what seemed to be a study. Xiao Cheng turned and asked, “Grandpa Dai, may I take a look inside?”

The old man, absorbed in his game, waved him in without a second thought.

Opening the door, Xiao Cheng was taken aback. The study was nearly as spacious as the living room, its four walls lined with bookshelves stretching to the ceiling, every inch filled with books. A thick carpet muffled all footsteps. In the center stood a desk, cluttered with books, documents, notes, and a brand-new computer connected to a printer, with printed materials piled beneath. The disorder was confined to the desk; elsewhere, the room was neat and orderly. The entire space was arranged with understated elegance, creating an atmosphere particularly suited for reading. The contrast between the tidy shelves and the chaotic desk complemented each other perfectly, and standing there, one could almost sense a scholarly air seeping into their bones.

Scanning the shelves, Xiao Cheng noted that aside from a deluxe edition of the complete works of Jin Yong, there were almost no literary books. The collection was dominated by academic works, chiefly in the humanities and social sciences, with a significant focus on psychology and law. Sociology and psychology were less urgent for him, but the legal texts were exactly what he needed. His eyes gleamed as he eagerly pulled down a volume titled Companion Rules and Key Judgments for Criminal Procedure Law and began reading voraciously at the desk.

This was, in fact, a reference manual for judges—a companion dictionary to criminal procedure law, dry and dense. But Xiao Cheng was in his element. In just over twenty minutes, he had memorized the entire seven-hundred-sixty-page book.

Since his awakening, reading had become an entirely different experience. Before, he would read word by word, subvocalizing each line, translating the text into an audio signal in his mind, which his brain would then interpret for meaning. The parts that interested him, or those he consciously chose to remember, were stored as knowledge. Now, however, reading was a visual process; he no longer saw sentences composed of individual characters, but entire pages as images filled with words. Without subvocalization, his mind extracted meaning directly from the subtle differences in the layout, categorizing, comparing, and storing the information alongside what he already knew. As he read, his brain not only solved problems but also discovered and posed new ones. It was as if a drop of ink had fallen on rice paper, spreading and diffusing far beyond the initial point of contact.

So it is with learning: on a blank sheet, countless drops of ink represent the breadth of knowledge. When these drops merge into a larger pool, one can be said to have mastered a field. Yet the page is infinite, and no one can ever turn it completely black.

Finishing the book, Xiao Cheng, still hungry for more, put it back and selected another—this time a casebook on criminal law, used as a textbook in many law schools, with more than five hundred pages. Case studies, with their narrative structure, were more engaging, but Xiao Cheng read more slowly this time, integrating the theory from the reference book with practical examples. Areas that had previously been unclear were gradually illuminated, like two drops of ink merging to form a deeper shade—a perfect example of drawing inferences about other cases from one instance.

In the living room, the old man was absorbed in his study of the chess game, oblivious to food or drink; in the study, the boy devoured books on criminal law with equal intensity. Time slipped by unnoticed—over an hour had passed.

Earlier, Xiao Cheng’s detailed explanations, combined with Professor Dai’s solid chess foundation, meant that in under two hours, the old man had mastered the variations of the Great Western Campaign. While he couldn’t claim complete mastery, he had gained a thorough understanding, and it was time to move on.

“Hey, boy! What are you up to? I’ve finished analyzing the Great Western Campaign. Come out here and let’s play a game to clear our minds!”

Solving endgames requires deep expertise, but excelling in endgames doesn’t necessarily mean one’s overall chess skills are superior. A full game includes the opening, middlegame, and endgame; mastery of openings and transitions is the true test of a chess player’s grasp of the situation. While Professor Dai knew he couldn’t match Xiao Cheng in endgames, he was eager to try a complete game.

“Grandpa, could you set up the board for me? I’m reading right now!” Xiao Cheng called out.

The old man snorted. “Reading, are you? There’s only the complete works of Jin Yong on that shelf to interest a boy your age. Once you open a book, you forget everything else.” Despite his grumbling, he reset the chess pieces on both sides of the board. “Come on, it’s ready. If you beat me, I’ll give you ten yuan!”

Worried the boy might refuse, he added a reward.

“Alright, I’ll go first then—Cannon from 2 to 6,” Xiao Cheng called from the study.

———

Some readers have said that not knowing chess makes this section unrelatable, but don’t worry—this is just a transitional phase. Don’t give up! Have confidence in your intelligence.