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Bai Xiaoxiao was already 15 when she discovered weiqi.
Later, others will ask what compelled her to enter the weiqi club's meeting room.
The truth is, she hadn't had any particularly motivation.
She'd passed the classroom many times before then. Even from the hallway, the clacks of the stones on wood rang out, crisp and clear, the sounds rising above the student voices like a symphony's melody—and that day, she’d thought, Why not?
The more important fact was that she'd left that day only when the club president had started putting away the boards and clearing his throat. And that on the car ride back, she'd made their family driver pull over by a bookstore so that she could buy herself a weiqi set.
Her parents had been pleased when they’d first learned she picked up weiqi.
“That’ll be helpful when you’re applying to college,” her mom had remarked, laughing. “You'l stand out from the other Chinese applicants like Chao laoshi recommended after all. Weiqi’s not quite trombone, but it must be better than piano.”
They celebrated with her when she became the weiqi club’s first chair, then when she led the team to their first trophy, then when she began to earn district awards, then city awards.
Then, she fell deeper in love with weiqi, and they were no longer pleased.
~~~
Yilang calls while she's at a job fair with a friend. It’s too early in the year to attend one, really, and her dad had told her not to worry, he’d arrange something for her—still, she’d wanted to map out the options that laid outside of dad’s sphere of influence.
She steps out of the crowd, and swipes across the screen to take the call.
"Xiaoxiao," Yilang says breathlessly.
She frowns. "Did you have a match today?" He only ever sounded like this after an exhilarating win, but she'd thought his next formal match wasn't until Friday—
"I overheard Sang Yuan laoshi speaking with Fang Xu 9th-duan just now. They were talking about“—she hears an audible swallow—“They were talking about a new age bracket for the pro exams."
Her grip tightens on the body of her phone.
“But I haven't heard anything,” she says. Surely she would've heard.
"The Weiqi Association hasn't officially announced it yet. They were a little hesitant to talk about it more, but it seemed all but set and—Xiaoxiao, the age bracket for men and women, it’s 18 to 25.”
He pauses. Waits.
"Xiaoxiao?" He says, finally. “Are you there?”
"Sorry, I just—“ She tries to keep her voice steady. “Can I call you back later?"
“But—yes, of course. Whenever,” Yilang adjusts.
Xiaoxiao nods, and hangs up with a short goodbye.
If four years ago, someone had told her she would get another chance, she'd have cried for joy.
But four years ago was four years ago.
Since then, she’s retaken the gaokao, and is even graduating this spring. She’s met college friends who know very little about weiqi except that she used to be quite good at it, and that it was the reason she started college late. She’s learned to listen to Yilang talk about his matches without envy, and to accept handicaps when she plays with old classmates with grace.
To try again—she'd have to give all of it up. It isn’t possible for her to stay in university, not when she’d have to dedicate at least ten hours a day—no, more, twelve hours a day—to practice again, if she wants even a chance of passing.
And it would be a chance. One singular chance. She's already 24. Next year, the new age bracket's first year, she'd be 25.
Xiaoxiao had rebuilt herself once already. She’s not sure how she could do it all over again.
~~~
Before weiqi, she’d been a good student—not top of the class, but always in the top ten.
But when the midterm results came this time, she's slipped to thirteen.
She didn't hate school, she didn't feel any particular way about it, really. It was... just information. Still, before weiqi, she'd gone over a passage again and again until she could recite it backward and forward, and she'd done extra math problems until she was sure she could solve every iteration of a formula. Xiaoxiao hadn't had much else to do, and the results of doing well at school had always felt nice: her teachers' satisfied nods, her classmates' impressed looks, her parents' pleased smiles.
Weiqi was different. The moment a problem solution clicked into place, the moment the shapes of a game unfurled in her mind — it sent her heart racing faster than three cups of espresso, than ranking first in the class, than even a thousand pleased smiles.
With weiqi, she didn't need anyone else.
Black & White Weiqi Cafe was exactly where her senior had said it’d be.
It just didn’t look anything like she’d imagine.
Xiaoxiao had thought she'd find laughing students of all ages lounging about, playing weiqi, doing homework and drinking soft drinks in between matches—like the school club, except with better players from all across the city.
The cafe was bustling, it was true. But through the glass windows, she could make out its occupants, and there were no students there. Only men, most decades older than her, sipping tea and chatting calmly.
How would she even ask for a match? They all looked like they knew each other already. Maybe she’d come back tomorrow, drag Junyan along—
"Hi, tongxue," a young looking woman said, popping her head out of the ajar door. "Is this your first time?"
Xiaoxiao blushed. "That obvious, huh," she muttered.
The woman laughed. "Well, yes. But we also don't get that many young people, or many women, I'd have remembered you. Come in."
Xiaoxiao hesitated for a moment. Then she nodded, and followed the lady in and to the reception desk.
"Welcome to Black & White Weiqi Cafe," the lady said. This close, Xiaoxiao could make out her name tag. Qing Mei, it said. "We have both membership and non-membership rates. I'm supposed to sell you on the membership, but since it's your first time, I'd recommend you the non-membership—"
Xiaoxiao couldn't hold back her question any longer. "Is this cafe really owned by Yu Xiaoyang laoshi? Does he ever play here? Or Fang Xu 5th-duan?" She'd seen them play on TV of course, but that couldn’t compared to the chance to watch them play in-person, even if it weren’t for an official match.
Qing Mei’s brows rose.
"No," she said slowly. “Though Yu laoshi's son does come when he's back in the country sometimes." She tapped her pencil against a pad of paper.
"On second thought, why don't you just play a match or two first?” she said. “You can just come back when you're done, I'll ring up your time then."
Again, Xiaoxiao hesitated. "But how—" she flicked her eyes around the room.
Qing Mei smiled. "I'll take you around,” she offered.
True to her words, she did know most of the customers' names. Xiaoxiao ended up sitting in on a match nearing midgame, and when the older gentleman forfeited, she stepped in.
She beat him, then the rematch he demanded. Then her opponent left, and someone else—someone so old she’d have addressed him as grandpa if she'd met him on the streets—took his place. Xiaoxiao lost that match, but it was close nearly the entire way, and so tense that only when she’d placed two stones on the board and looked up, blinking, did she realize that a crowd had gathered around them.
A warm hand dropped onto her shoulder. The receptionist smiled down at her.
"Sorry to interrupt your fun, but—I thought maybe I'd let you know the time. You're welcome to stay, of course, but I know it’s a school night and it's very easy to lose track of time while playing.” Her gaze flicked to the wall clock, and Xiaoxiao's eyes followed hers. They widened.
Xiaoxiao jumped up, gathered all her belongings, and hastened over to the reception desk.
"Thank you so much for the reminder, jiejie," she said, already scrambling for her wallet and pulling out a crisp 100 yuan. Her parents were going to kill her. "How much do I owe you?"
"Sure, one moment. I'll sign you up for a membership? The total is—“
"Yes, please," Xiaoxiao said, and handed the bill over.
~~~
When she’d been studying at Yi Jianghu, she’d thought it was fate that had made her path cross with weiqi.
But by the time she'd arrived at university, she'd realized it wasn’t fate at all. Just boring everyday coincidence—or even a missed chance, really. As a child, her parents had tried to get her interested in western chess. When that hadn't stuck—the chess pieces had felt too big in her hands, she hadn't been able to keep the movements straight—, they'd try her in a whole range of other classes. Ballet, piano, violin, even horseback riding.
The one subject they hadn't tried to enroll her was weiqi.
Now?
Now she thinks maybe it really had been fate. But what is it that people say about love? Fate only takes you so far.
~~~
"Have you ever thought about joining a training institute, Xiaoxiao?" Qing Mei-jie asked.
Xiaoxiao blinked. She shook her head, and the pattern of stones at the front of her mind dissipated. Yu laoshi's son was several years younger than her, but he'd beaten her badly, and he'd beaten her easily. She couldn't even be mad at him. His weiqi had been so beautiful, logical and oppressive all at once, some conglomeration of Yu Xiaoyang's precision and Fang Xu's aggression.
"Training institute? For what?" she asked.
"For those who want to play professionally, of course." Qing Mei-jie said. She placed a pamphlet in front of Xiaoxiao. "Most people don't make it to midgame against xiao-Liang."
Xiaoxiao fingered the pamphlet. It wasn’t that she had never heard of them, but—it hadn't seemed an option. What would she do even if she gained admission? She still had to study for the gaokao, to finish high school. And she was already 17. By now, most of those who had aspirations to go pro that were her age had already taken the test twice.
"The age maximum for women is 20. Just give it a read, it's OK if afterwards you don't think it's a fit, Xiaoxiao.”
"Thank you," Xiaoxiao said at last. She tucked the pamphlet carefully at the front of her backpack.
"Junyan," Xiaoxiao asked while they were out shopping together. “Could you do me a favor? I need to have something mailed to me, but my parents can't know. Can I have it sent to your house instead?"
Junyan grinned wickedly. "Oh, are you expecting some sort of gift? See, I knew Qingshan wouldn't just leave things like that! Really, Australia's not that far—“
Xiaoxiao rolled her eyes. "No. Also, Qingshan’s not worth the effort. I'm just getting some application papers mailed to me, but I don't want my parents to know about it."
Junyan pursed her lips. “I mean, sure, no problem. But what—“ She groaned loudly. "Xiaoxiao, I thought you'd decided against that weiqi place! Aren’t you supposed to be focusing on the gaokao?”
"I can handle it. Anyway"—she leafed through the racks—"I probably won't even make it, Yi Jianghu’s acceptance rate is only 20%."
Junyan snorted. "Please, you definitely will if you try, you’re so good at weiqi. And name one time you haven’t gotten something you really wanted. I swear, either some god’s looking out for you or you were born under the luckiest star.” Junyan pulls out a garishly pink blouse, and holds it up against her skin. “How’s this one? Really, the question is what I’m going to do in school all by myself with you gone.”
Xiaoxiao laughed, took the shirt in Junyan's hand and put it back on the rack. She was doing the girl a favor. With her own selections, she walked towards the cashier. “I don’t know, Junyan, study maybe?”
Two weeks after her examination, the letter of acceptance came.
With trembling hands, she read it carefully, then tucked it away beneath some books on her desk.
She'd think about it later.
“Xiaoxiao, what is this?” Her dad said. In front of him, on the coffee table, Yi Jianghu Institute’s acceptance letter sat, looking rumpled and small.
“I—“ Her throat was dry. She didn't know what to say.
“Did we raise you to lie to us like this? To disappoint us like this?"
“I—"
"Have we ever let you want for anything before?”
Tears prickled at the corner of her eyes. She tried to pull them back. "No, ba," she said, her voice small. "Never."
Her dad slammed his fist down on the table. “Then why are you repaying us this way? We’ve only ever asked one thing from you, one thing—that you take your future seriously, not waste your time on this, this nonsense!” Her dad spat out.
It was useless. She was crying now, fat tears trickling down unchecked on her cheeks. Xiaoxiao bent her head, wiping them away furiously, but they kept coming. She’d never seen him so angry, not even that time he’d caught her playing weiqi past midnight.
She’d just wanted to see if she could get in, what was so wrong with that?
Her mom hesitated. “Honey, calm down,” she said. She smoothed a hand down her dad’s arm. “You’re scaring Xiao-er.”
“She should be scared!”
Her mom tsk-ed, and he subsided.
Xiaoxiao heard the clack of shoes, and then her mom’s arms and scent were enveloping her. “Shhh,” her mom said. “Hush, it’s all right, baobei. You're fine, it's not a big deal.”
It is, Xiaoxiao wanted to protest. It’s weiqi.
“I’ll call this—Yu Jianghu Institute tomorrow.” Xiaoxiao heard the rustle of papers, the scorn in her dad’s voice. “I'll tell them she won’t accept the offer.”
Xiaoxiao studied hard. She took the gaokao, got into a school that pleased her parents, started preparing for university.
In the meantime, the pro exams took place. Two students from Yi Jianghu Institute passed.
That could’ve been me, she thought bitterly.
~~~
When Xiaoxiao makes it back to her dorm, Yilang is standing outside the entrance. He's wearing a suit—whatever event he'd met Sang Yuan laoshi and Fang Xu at must have been important—and the girls walking into the dorm cast him side-eye glances, some suspicious, some appreciative.
Yilang stands up when she comes near.
"I’m sorry,” he starts. “I should have thought more about what it would mean for you—”
She sighs. Despite everything, seeing him, her heart relaxes. “You did think about what it’d mean for me. That's why you told me." She smiles, walks over, and locks her arm in his. "I'm hungry," she says, "and I've got the biggest craving for malaxiangguo. Come with to the canteen and share a bowl?"
His face softens. He nods.
~~~
Xiaoxiao had been filling out the new student registration forms when suddenly, the characters started blurring in front of her, like a camera lens going out of focus. And then, she was crying, and crying, and crying, completely unable to stop.
Her mom found her like that, and breathless, gathered Xiaoxiao into her arms.
"Xiaoxiao, what's happened?” She asked. She was rocking Xiaoxiao back and forth, like she was five again and had just woken up from a nightmare. “What is it?"
"I don't want to do this, ma, don't make me," Xiaoxiao said, shaking. She buried her head into her mom’s shoulders.
Earlier on, her parents had tried to dissuade her from weiqi, and set limits on the amount of time she could spend playing a day—but that lasted only as long as it took for her dad to see light under her door near midnight. After he'd thrown her weiqi board across the room and stormed out again, she'd collected each stone on the floor by hand with tears streaming down her face, while her dad and mom argued violently outside her door. She’d never seen them so angry at each other before then.
"Xiao-er," her mom said the next morning, looking like she'd aged five years overnight. “Your dad overreacted yesterday.” She looked challengingly at Xiaoxiao’s dad. But he wasn't looking at her at all, just staring into space, stone-faced. Her mom turned back to her. “But you must know it comes from a place of concern. We know you love weiqi—but this is a very important time in your life. You told us you didn’t want to study abroad, fine, we accepted that. But that means you have to take the gaokao seriously.”
“I am studying seriously for the gaokao,” Xiaoxiao said. “Why can’t I play weiqi and study for the gaokao at the same time?”
Her dad looked at her. Then he snorted.
"Can you?"
"I’m doing fine in prep school," she said defensively.
They glared at each other.
Finally, he sighed. "Forget it." He waved his hand across his face. "As long as you don’t stay up late again and you keep your grades up."
"Wait—really—" She broke into a smile. "Thank you, ba! I promise, I'll do well in prep school. I'll grade the highest on the mock test—"
He hmph-ed again. Then he hesitated.
"Is your board all right?" he asked.
Xiaoxiao looked down at her breakfast. She pushed her spoon around and around. "Well...” she said carefully, “There's a scratch on a corner now, but it's still very usable. Don't worry about it, ba.”
The scratch had been from her ring scraping across the surface the last time she cleaned it. But that part, she didn't add.
A couple of days later, Xiaoxiao came into her room to find a whole new weiqi set, the board made of light spruce, the stones weighty in her hand.
There were a lot of anxious looks and whispered calls, after she'd told her mom she couldn't attend university.
Exactly a week later, her new student registration had been withdrawn, and she was at Yu Jianghu Institute, touring its halls with her parents. The proctor from her exam—Ban laoshi, was it? He had complimented her on “a good game” even though she had lost—was leading the tour and being overly courteous to her dad. The other teacher accompanying them on the other hand was barely looking her way, his face set like he smelled something unpleasant.
She tried her best to ignore him and focus instead on the answers Ban laoshi was giving to her parents’ very long list of questions. Yes, she could live at home if she wanted, they had very few accommodations for female students anyway. Yes, she could feel free to bring any food she'd like if the canteen food did not suit her. Yes, they would ensure her comfort and happiness. None of the answers appeased her parents, and none mattered to her either, really.
Xiaoxiao knew that as long as she could play weiqi to her heart’s content here, she'd be happy.
~~~
“Yilang,” Xiaoxiao says, once their bowl was almost fully demolished. “Do you think the fact that I don’t know whether or not I should do it means I shouldn't? If I loved weiqi enough, shouldn’t I be more sure?”
Yilang chews slowly. He's never been one to rush his words. Then, just as slowly, he shakes his head.
“No. I mean, look at Shi Guang and Hong He. They love weiqi more than practically anyone. And yet they both almost gave it up.” Yilang laughs. “Or—remember when I went home and considered staying to help my mom, rather than retaking the exams? We’re not children anymore. No matter how much you love something, there are other things you have to consider.”
"But you want me to try again,” Xiaoxiao says.
Yilang doesn’t deny it. She knows him too well. But he does smile.
“I’ll support whatever decision you make, Xiaoxiao. You know I always will. Regardless of what you choose, I know we will still play weiqi together.”
For the rest of our lives, he doesn’t say. But she hears it, anyway.
Xiaoxiao turns this over and over in her mind, until it feels almost like a weiqi stone in her hands.
Instead of replying, she takes the hand he has resting on the table, and gives it a squeeze. She doesn’t let go.
~~~
Xiaoxiao was happy at the Institute, playing weiqi day and night.
At first.
Then, she lost, and lost, and lost. By the end of the first month, she’d only scraped together a win percentage of 10 percent. By the end of her second month, it still hovered around only 25 percent. Worse still, she knew everyone hated her—that behind her back, the other students mocked her for crying after losses, took bets on when she’d finally quit, joked about her “elderly age.”
Yet none of their dislike prickled at her as much as Da laoshi's did.
And he did dislike her. He yelled at everyone, but her especially. He tore apart everyone’s matches, but especially matches she'd lost. He graded everyone’s solutions harshly, but marked hers so hard he punctured the paper once.
It had been—in hindsight—quite a basic problem. But her loss the day before had been particularly brutal, and Da laoshi had been harsh as he’d filled in for Ban laoshi's absence, and that evening, her mind had simply shut down. When the solution had failed to present itself after nearly thirty minutes of staring at the life-and-death problem, she’d marked down her best guess and moved on.
She had known it had been wrong. She just hadn’t expect Da laoshi to keep her after class because of it.
“Bai Xiaoxiao,” he said, once all the other students had stopped giggling into their hands and left. He threw her homework down at her feet. “What is this?”
She stayed silent.
“Did you even try?” He shouted.
“I did,” she gritted out.
He took a huffing swig of his flask, the one that they were all supposed to pretend didn’t hold baijiu, and came out from behind his desk to stand in front of her.
"Do you think this is enough, Bai Xiaoxiao?" His voice was deceptively calm.
She raised her head to look at him.
“This—fantasy.” He waved his right hand in her face. “Haven't you had enough of it?”
Xiaoxiao stiffened. “I don’t understand your meaning, laoshi.”
“Sure, being a pro weiqi player looks great on TV. If you’re good enough, you get to go on talkshows, win glory for the country, get paid to play teaching games with people with too much money. But that’s only if you’re good enough—and do you think you’ll be good enough?”
“I was accepted into the institute,” she said.
He scoffed. “Ban laoshi has a soft heart. I’m not going to lie and say you don’t have talent, but you're too old. Your chances of making it are so slim they’re practically zero. Right now, you’re not even ranked highly enough to participate in the pro exams. But say you manage to qualify by the end of the year. No one makes it on their first try. So you try again next year, maybe you get a bit closer—but few people make it on their second year either. Then you're done. Isn't this basically the best outcome you can hope for?”
It wasn’t anything she didn’t know herself. Even Shen Yilang, by far the best player the institute had, had failed the pro exams last year. Still, it stung, hearing it from Da laoshi.
He leaned back on his desk, and crossed his arms.
“Don’t get me wrong, Yi Jianghu’s very grateful for your dad’s donation, he’s putting a lot of poor kids through the institute. But he doesn’t seem to actually want you here. Why don’t you cut your parents’ worry short, and just let him put you through university? Why waste your time and your parents’ money for two years?”
She opened her mouth—but closed it without uttering a word.
Xiaoxiao inclined her head respectfully to Da laoshi, adjusted her backpack on her shoulders, and left the classroom.
On her way out of the building, in the hallway, a hand grabbed her by the arm.
“Bai Xiaoxiao, did something happen?” Shen Yilang asked.
“No,” she said. She pulled away.
Nothing had happened.
Da laoshi hadn’t been saying anything she or any of the other students hadn’t known.
~~~
Two weeks later, the news breaks: The Chinese Weiqi Association would start professional qualification exams for a new age bracket, 18 to 25.
Her phone floods with messages. High school friends, college friends, friends from her time as a trainee. Ban laoshi. Da laoshi. Her parents, even.
Only Yilang doesn't text her. He's always been so considerate.
She doesn't open any of the messages.
~~~
When Xiaoxiao learned Shi Guang—not Yilang, but Shi Guang—had passed the pro exams, she tried to compose a congratulations message, and to attend his and Hong He's celebration dinner.
She couldn't do it. She texted her regrets instead.
She couldn't help thinking either: Who was he, to pass on the first try? Who was he, to make it when he'd started at practically the same age she had? Who was he, to become pro when less than a year ago, he couldn't even beat her without a stone handicap—
Xiaoxiao never mentions to a-Liang her first reaction to the news. He's always been a much better person than she is.The best person she's ever known, in fact.
The truth is, by nearly anyone's standards, by the time she started, it was already too late for her and weiqi.
Even now, Xiaoxiao doesn't like to think about what might've happened, if her parents had placed her in weiqi classes when she was small.
~~~
"Bai Xiaoxiao,” someone called.
She blinked, and there was Shen Yilang in front of her. He was as gangly as always, that appearance emphasized by clothes a little too short and too threadbare on his limbs.
“Shen Yilang,” she acknowledged.
“Why don’t you go in? Are you waiting for somebody?”
Xiaoxiao shook her head.
“It’s early,” she dodged.
Truthfully, she was lingering outside the door because she didn’t want to see Da laoshi yet. If she saw him, she’d have to tell him about her decision. She didn't want to see his glee at being right, or Ban laoshi's disappointment, or her parents' relief. Not yet.
Shen Yilang frowned. But he only nodded, and sidestepped towards the entrance—
Then swiveled back around again, towards her.
“Your first day at the institute was the first of August, right?” He asked.
"I—yes," she said.
At least she could take pride in lasting longer than most of her classmates had betted she would. Three months was still three times longer than they’d thought she’d stay.
“Congratulations on your three-month anniversary here,” Shen Yilang said, smiling widely.
She opened her mouth—then closed it.
He couldn’t possibly be mocking her. Despite being top of the class, she had never seen Shen Yilang so much as look smugly in anyone's direction before.
“Thanks,” she said, stiffly.
He paused. Then, all in one breath, he said, “I’m really glad you came here, you know. You’ve so much talent, I’m glad it hasn’t been wasted. And you work so hard, you’re always the first and the last one out of the practice room.”
She bit down on her lips—but the words came tumbling out anyway.
“But my win percentage is only 30 percent,” she said.
Shen Yilang chuckled.
At her offended expression, he quickly wiped the expression from his face, and rubbed the back of his neck. “Uh, that is. You’ve only been here three months, that's not surprising. When I’d first joined, my win percentage must’ve been half that. Catching up to the group always takes awhile, but then you'll make rapid progress. I mean, you already have,” he added hastily. “I’m sure I’ll see you in Group A early next year.”
He sounded so confident. It almost made her believe it—
“You really think so?” she said softly.
“Of course!” Shen Yilang said. He paused. Looked at her carefully. “Are you sure everything’s all right?”
Xiaoxiao adjusted her bookbag, to avoid looking at him. “Yes, of course,” she said. “You should go in, Da laoshi’s a lot stricter than Ban laoshi about tardiness.”
He hesitated. Finally, he clapped her on the shoulder, and with a “see you in the practice room”, headed inside.
Xiaoxiao stayed by the entrance, and waited until the last possible moment to go inside. And when class was dismissed, she headed straight into the practice room, and sat down next to Shen Yilang.
She didn't seek out Da laoshi that day. Or the next, or the next.
~~~
After she drops off the papers at the university administration building, Xiaoxiao sits on a bench by the bank of the campus river, and calls Yilang.
“a-Lang,” she says the moment he picks up, “I’ll try.”
She knows she doesn't need to specify any further.
Yilang is quiet for a long time.
“I thought you weren’t going to,” he says.
Xiaoxiao looks out over the river, at the orange and red leaves flowing lazily downstream.
“I thought about what you said. About how you, Shi Guang, Hong He—you had all almost quit weiqi. But you'd all almost done it because of things you couldn't control. But that's not me, is it? I was born under a lucky star.” She laughs. Her eyes sting, so she closes them. “Wouldn’t it be irresponsible of me to throw away this opportunity, when I'm lucky enough to have it? What's the worse that can happen? Even if I fail—I'll still have career paths I can pursue. I’ll still have my friends. I’ll still have you and weiqi.”
Yilang laughs too, the sound coming across shaky.
"That's true," he says.
She smiles. “So. Please teach me well, Shen Yilang 4th-duan laoshi. It’s been a long time.”
~~~
Fate only takes you so far, Xiaoxiao thinks. But wherever you end up is somewhere different than you might’ve been at otherwise.
One day, Xiaoxiao will raise her and Yilang’s daughter up to a weiqi board, so that she can place her very first stone on its smooth, endless surface. The clack of stone on wood will make her daughter dissolve into helpless giggles, and Xiaoxiao will smoosh kisses to her cheeks to celebrate.
~~~
A little bit after the end of the class period, the Group A students began to file out. Some of them looked curiously at her as they left, others nodded warily her way. She nodded back in acknowledgment to most of them. To Yilang when he passed, she gave a careful smile, which he returned.
When the last student had exited the room, she stepped through the doorway, and came to a stop in front of Da laoshi’s desk.
He stopped his muttering over sheets of papers—somebody was going to get a very bad score on their set of problems tomorrow—and looked up at her.
"Xiaoxiao?" He looked genuinely confused. “You have a question? Is Ban laoshi looking at me?”
She shook her head. “No,” she said. "I just have something to say to you, Da laoshi."
He scowled. "What, don't you have better things to do? Nothing to practice in your game?"
She tightened her fingers on the strap of her backpack. “It won't take long. I'm returning to the practice room right after.”
Da laoshi narrowed his eyes at her. Then he scoffed, leaned back on his chair, and folded his hands.
“You asked me last time why I was wasting my time and my parents' money,” she said.
Xiaoxiao took a deep breath. “Weiqi is worth it.” She kept her eyes firmly on him. “Even if I don’t pass the pro exams, even if I have to go back to my parents and apologize for the effort they've put in—it’s worth it.”
Xiaoxiao bowed, straightened, and turned away from Da laoshi. She headed towards the practice room.