The middle schoolers had already gone to the venue to cheer — how could the high schoolers just sit still?
Not only the freshmen and sophomores, even the seniors were getting restless.
What’s more satisfying than watching Sister Yue crush her opponent?
What’s more important than cheering her on?
Obviously, nothing. So—
“Full mobilization!”
Zhao Tiejun, who arrived a step too late, was nearly hoarse from shouting: “Come back — all of you, come back—!”
Unfortunately, the only response was the sound of footsteps growing faster and faster.
In a flash, the students had vanished from view.
“Director Xiong? What are you doing here?”
“Ahem… just passing by…” Director Xiong adjusted his glasses guiltily.
“That’s odd. Middle school should be in morning self-study by now. What are you doing in the high school building… ‘just passing by’?”
“Well…” He casually hid the colorful flag behind his back. “Coincidence. Pure coincidence.”
Zhao Tiejun: “?”
“I’ll let you get back to it then. I’m heading off.” With that, he turned and walked away.
In that direction…
Zhao Tiejun paused.
That wasn’t the way back to the middle school — it was the way to the auditorium!
He caught a glimpse of the small flag that Director Xiong didn’t manage to hide in time and stared in disbelief: “Old Xiong! You — you’re leading the charge?!”
“Director Zhao, what are you saying? I didn’t catch that.”
“Stop! Where are the middle school students?”
Director Xiong’s body stiffened. He kept his head down and pretended not to hear as he marched forward.
***
9:00 AM. Jiang Fuyue and Tosaki Naohara took the stage.
The fully opened auditorium was packed to the brim.
Middle school and high school students had neatly divided into their respective sections and were sitting quietly, waiting — all without a single teacher maintaining order.
Principal Hu Yongwei walked in and was stunned by the sight.
“H-How is everyone here?! This is absurd!”
The Director of Academic Affairs wiped his sweat and explained bitterly, “Principal, we couldn’t stop them!”
In the end, it was the Chinese representative who advised, “It’s a good thing students are this enthusiastic. The old notion of ignoring the world and burying your head in books is outdated. As the saying goes: see more, hear more, and real knowledge comes from practice! Letting them witness this isn’t bad — what’s written in textbooks pales in comparison to first-hand experience.”
“You’re absolutely right,” Hu Yongwei nodded repeatedly. “I was being too narrow-minded.”
“Not quite. You’re just doing what a principal ought to.” He gave Hu a half-smile. “But deep down, weren’t you reluctant to drive them away?”
Exactly what he’d been waiting to say.
“You—” Old fox!
Hu didn’t admit it, just chuckled and rubbed his nose.
The rules were simple: A live match of Go between two players. One round determined the winner. If it was a draw, they’d play another until a result was reached.
Jiang Fuyue wasn’t in school uniform today. A white shirt tucked into black pencil pants, showing off her slender waist and long legs. She didn’t need to do anything — just standing there on stage, she was already the most stunning sight.
Tosaki Naohara wore the same outfit as yesterday. His bangs hung low, hiding his eyes, and since he was shorter than Jiang Fuyue, he looked like a grain of sand beside a pearl.
The two sat down, and at the referee’s signal, the match officially began.
Jiang Fuyue took black, Tosaki white.
Go, at its core, was about strategy and foresight.
She noticed the white stones had taken the komoku positions in two corners. To balance territory and influence, black had only one ideal response—
She played her fifth move at tengen, the center point of the board.
With her first and third moves at san-san and hoshi, this formed the legendary “Triple Star Tengen” opening.
One of the most iconic layouts in the history of Go.
It was first introduced by Wu Qingyuan (Go Seigen) in the 1930s during a match against Honinbo Shusai of Japan.
By using this pattern, Jiang Fuyue was perhaps making a pointed statement.
While she remained calm, Tosaki’s pupils suddenly contracted — he looked up sharply.
In the audience—
“What’s wrong? Why’s he frozen like that? The vibe just dropped…”
“Tosaki doesn’t look good… wait, did Sister Yue win in just three moves? D*mn! That’s insane!”
“If you don’t understand, just stop talking before you embarrass yourself.”
“Hey, School Hunk Ling, give us a quick explanation?”
Ling Xuan: “This is called the ‘Triple Star Tengen’ formation. Especially the san-san moves — they used to be considered taboo in the Honinbo school. They even called it the ‘Gate of Ghosts’ — forbidden. When Wu Qingyuan played this way, it shocked the entire Japanese Go community and was seen as a direct challenge to their traditions…”
“Then why is Tosaki so angry?”
Ling Xuan: “He was trained under a descendant of the Honinbo school — technically, he’s a Honinbo disciple.”
“Hiss… so he thinks he’s being provoked? No wonder he’s glaring at Sister Yue like that.”
Onstage—
Tosaki Naohara: “You did that on purpose.”
A statement, not a question.
Jiang Fuyue admitted readily: “That’s right. I did it on purpose.”
“Back then, even Wu Qingyuan lost to my ancestor, Shusai.”
Implying: if your master beat him, how could you possibly win?
Jiang Fuyue smiled: “But as I recall, the winning 160th move was devised by his disciple, Maeda Nobuaki, after three whole months of analysis, right?”
So what if he won? It wasn’t even a fair solo victory. It took a team and months of hindsight. It wasn’t honorable.
Tosaki clenched his jaw, rage flaring in his eyes.
Jiang Fuyue remained composed as she placed another stone. She even reminded him with a smile, “Your turn.”
This was a game with no gimmicks or shortcuts — to win, you needed real skill.
Jiang Fuyue moved at lightning speed, barely needing to think.
To keep up, Tosaki unconsciously shortened his own thinking time.
Little did he know, he was already dancing to her rhythm.
One hour later, the match ended.
The judges took the stage to count the stones. Then, speaking into the mic, one loudly announced:
“Black wins by two points!”
