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With them practically living together, it doesn’t take Yu Liang long to discover Shi Guang’s strange habit.
Professional Go players have superstitions of all kinds, and before this, Yu Liang was of the opinion he’d seen them all. Wearing a specific pair of socks to a match, taking a single bite out of an apple, saying a prayer seven times then hopping thrice on one foot—small rituals all in the name of winning.
What Shi Guang does is different. Both before and after a match, he’ll find a secluded spot with a nice view and talk. He’s alone, but it seems like he’s talking earnestly to someone, and like he expects a response when he stops.
Yu Liang doesn’t get close enough to listen. He never took Shi Guang for the superstitious type, but he knows how particular Go players can be about their rituals, so he keeps his distance. He trusts Shi Guang, and if talking to nothing helps clear his mind, then so be it.
Sometimes, though, Shi Guang doesn’t wait for a match. On slow days when they’re both burnt out on practicing and none of his friends have time to hang out, Shi Guang will again find a lone spot and talk. It’s these talks that makes Yu Liang burn with curiosity: if it’s not a pre-match ritual, what in the world could Shi Guang be talking about? Who could he be talking to?
Still, Yu Liang keeps his distance. They’ve struck a tenuous balance, a precarious peace. Shi Guang may be one of Yu Liang’s closest friends, but they’re still rivals. At this stage in the Hokuto Cup, he can’t afford to ruin their synergy, and overstepping personal boundaries would do exactly that.
But there’s not much he can do about it when it’s the middle of the night and Shi Guang rouses him awake by murmuring at the window. The curtains are open, so light spills into Yu Liang’s room and silhouettes Shi Guang. He leans through the open window, the room filling with warm summer air.
Yu Liang has to rub the last remnants of his dream from his face before he can actually make sense of Shi Guang’s mumbling.
“…you’re having fun watching me. If you were here, you’d be teasing me. I can hear it now.” Shi Guang leans against the windowsill. He drops his voice in an imitation of someone else’s. “You’d say, ‘Xiao Guang, you need to sleep. Just close your eyes and you’ll be fine. You can look in the morning instead.’”
He sighs and slumps forward even more. “But why would I look in the morning when I can look now? You should’ve taught me about this, too, Chu Ying!”
“Chu Ying?”
The name is out of Yu Liang’s mouth before he can stop it, and he regrets it even before Shi Guang whirls around. He’s cast in shadow, though Yu Liang can imagine the panicked expression.
It’s not like Yu Liang could’ve stayed quiet, though. This whole time, Shi Guang has been talking to the one enigma that’s stayed out of his reach, the one puzzle he hasn’t been able to solve. He knew Chu Ying was connected somehow to Shi Guang, and this proves it.
“Yu Liang,” Shi Guang finally says. “You’re awake.”
Yu Liang sits up, suddenly too awake to stay still. “Why did you say Chu Ying?”
“Oh, that? I didn’t say Chu Ying, I, ah…I said….”
“I heard you say it.”
“I guess I did, but it doesn’t mean anything. I was just…you know, wondering how he won all those games! For our next match. We’re good, but not unbeatable like him. Yet.”
“Our next match isn’t for two weeks.”
“Yu Liang, you always want me to practice for matches months in advance, and now you’re upset that I’m doing it so early?”
“No, but….” Yu Liang exhales and faces Shi Guang head-on. “How are you two connected?”
“Who said we’re connected?” Shi Guang’s blinding, dumb smile is obvious in his voice. “He’s just the best Go player, of course I’d look up to him.”
Yu Liang can’t find the words to reply, though he’s sure Shi Guang can see the steam blowing out from his ears.
Of course they’re connected. Their styles are similar, and Shi Guang has suggested moves that Yu Liang has only seen from Chu Ying. On top of that, he knows Chu Ying deleted his Wei Da account around the time Shi Guang tried to quit Go. That’s too big of a coincidence to not mean something. At the time, Yu Liang thought it was irrefutable evidence that Shi Guang and Chu Ying were the same person, but now, he isn’t so sure.
Besides, Shi Guang isn’t normally so evasive. He only starts speaking in riddles when Yu Liang brings up Chu Ying, or his attempt to quit. If he doesn’t know Chu Ying, why would he refuse to answer things straight?
“Yu Liang, Yu Liang, I know what you’re thinking. We’ll definitely win based on our current skills, but what’s—”
“I don’t care about winning or losing right now,” Yu Liang spits, and that’s enough to get Shi Guang to stop. Yu Liang turns on the lamp next to the bed, feeling a bit better when he can see Shi Guang’s shocked face.
“I’ve been asking you about Chu Ying ever since he made a name for himself on Wei Da, but you always say you don’t know him, or you aren’t him. Then why do you say his name when you talk alone? You’ve never idolized a Go player to that level, but he’s different. And you won’t tell me why he’s so important.” Yu Liang finds his way to his feet at some point. “You either think I’m stupid enough to not see there’s something going on, or you don’t trust me enough to say it.”
Shi Guang’s mouth settles in a grim line. He shifts his weight, looking at the lamp. “You’re not stupid,” he admits.
“Then why are you lying? Shi Guang, I don’t need the details, but you can at least admit you know him, can’t you?”
The shadows in Shi Guang’s face darken, and Yu Liang feels a pang of guilt for putting them there. Still, he has to know the truth. Neither of them will fully trust the other until Shi Guang shares something.
“It’s not that easy,” Shi Guang finally says, his voice a thousand years away.
“Why not?”
“He was…a lot of things. I don’t know how to explain to you.”
“He was?” Yu Liang narrows his eyes.
Shi Guang inhales deeply, then sits on the edge of the bed. His back is to Yu Liang now, but he could see the gathering tears, the red in his cheeks. Shi Guang looks down at his hands as he presses his fingertips together.
“Chu Ying is gone.”
Yu Liang freezes, suddenly terrified that he’s been interrogating Shi Guang about his dead friend with all the callousness in the world. “How?”
“He, um.” Shi Guang trails off, thinking hard about his next words. Yu Liang is content to wait, staring at the back of his bowed head. “He left. He went somewhere far away, where I can’t talk to him.”
Relief fills Yu Liang and makes his head spin. “Like Antarctica?” he asks, unable to think of much else.
Shi Guang makes a noise that’s not quite a sob and not quite a laugh. “Not really.”
“Then where?”
Shi Guang shakes his head. “Either way, he’s not here. You can stop worrying about him so much.”
He offers a smile that Yu Liang has seen plenty of times before: one to hide, to convince him to back off. True, he’s gotten more answers tonight than ever before, but he still isn’t satisfied. Shi Guang is still hiding things that hurt, and until he shares them, Yu Liang won’t feel steady. It’s only fair, considering how intimately Shi Guang knows Yu Liang’s darkest memory.
He sits on the bed, behind Shi Guang. “Who was Chu Ying to you?”
Shi Guang huffs. “I told you, you don’t have to worry about him.”
“I’m not worried about him, Shi Guang.”
Yu Liang’s stare pierces Shi Guang, whose unsure smile slowly falls when it’s obvious Yu Liang isn’t buying it. He probably could’ve chosen words with more tact, but he’s tired of Shi Guang seeming so unreachable. He’ll prove he can touch him.
“Jeez, you’re so intense when you’re just waking up,” Shi Guang grumbles, averting his gaze and rubbing his arm. “It takes me at least an hour to get like this….”
“Will you tell me or not, Shi Guang?”
The silence drags for a moment as Shi Guang considers, staring at his hands. His gaze drifts over to the fan on his bedside table. While he usually only opens it during matches, it’s never far from him.
“I don’t know how to,” he finally answers.
“The first word in your head is usually a good one.”
Shi Guang hums. “Maybe…mentor is a good starting place. Teacher, he’d like that.”
Yu Liang furrows his brow. He doesn’t know why he didn’t consider Chu Ying might have been Shi Guang’s senior—maybe because he was so certain they were the same person. “Is he the one who taught you how to play Go?”
Shi Guang bounces his head up and down, not quite meeting Yu Liang’s eyes. “Yeah. The first two games we played, I think it’d be more accurate to say he beat you, and not me.”
Yu Liang doesn’t see how that could’ve been the case, considering Shi Guang alone was right in front of him the whole time, but he doesn’t think now is the time to argue. Instead he replies, “He taught you Go, then. Why didn’t you just say so?”
“It wasn’t just Go,” Shi Guang corrects. “He taught me a lot of things. Like…how to care about other people, and be considerate to them. He taught things like patience and confidence. But I taught him a lot too,” he adds with a big grin.
“Like what?”
“Like how to ride a bus. And a seesaw!”
Yu Liang snorts, Shi Guang’s smile infecting him. “You’re making that up.”
“I’m not! He may have been a god at Go, but he was clueless about a lot of other stuff,” Shi Guang laughs. “When he saw me using a cell phone for the first time, he thought—nevermind, you wouldn’t believe me.”
“I don’t think you’d lie right now.”
“…Okay!” Shi Guang faces Yu Liang and crosses his legs, cheeks full with his grin and eyes bright. “When he first saw me using a cell phone, he asked why I was talking so loudly. He didn’t think the other person would be able to hear unless I shouted.”
Yu Liang smiles, more because it feels right to mirror Shi Guang’s expression than because the story is particularly funny.
Shi Guang continues, “He asked me how it works if I don’t shout, and—Yu Liang, I was 15 years old, I didn’t know how phones work. So I said that, and then he asked how I would know then that shouting doesn’t work.”
Yu Liang snickers. “He had you beat.”
“He did!” Shi Guang leans forward, dipping the bed. “He didn’t believe me until I asked a teacher and proved how phones work.”
Yu Liang laughs again, the image of Shi Guang sheepishly asking his teacher how phones work out of the blue stark in his mind. It’s something he would do, at any rate; he’s always zipping around from one topic to the next, it’d make someone’s head spin. Yu Liang has happened to grow fond of the dizzy feeling.
Yu Liang throws away the thoughts when he sees Shi Guang’s smile dimming, the joy wrinkling his eyes smoothing away. He flounders for a way to keep the conversation alive. He somehow settles on, “He’s the one who beat me, huh? You knew him for a long time, then. It sounds like he had a hand in raising you.”
Shi Guang nods, absorbing the thought. “I definitely wouldn’t be the person I am now without him.”
Yu Liang watches him closely, weighing his next words before he says them. “The way you talk about him makes me think of my father.”
“Huh?” Shi Guang’s eyes widen, riveted on Yu Liang. “That isn’t…I mean, how?”
“Well, my father introduced me to Go,” Yu Liang explains. “He changed my life when he did that. And he taught me to be dedicated and persevere and to fight for what I want. But other than that, he taught me how to fish, and he helped me finish my first jigsaw puzzle. I may not have always liked what he did or how he acted, but I think I taught him things, too. It sounds like Chu Ying did a lot of that kind of stuff for you.”
Shi Guang presses his lips together, staring at his hands. “When you put it like that, it does kinda sound like…I mean, it never occurred to me before that he was like a….” His shoulders droop, and he bows his head.
“Are you okay?” Yu Liang extends a hand, though it hovers over Shi Guang’s knee unsurely.
“Man.” The tears from before stain Shi Guang’s voice again, making it ragged. “Before, he was just Chu Ying, that was the best way I could explain him. But—but putting a word to him makes it feel like he’s gone all over.”
Yu Liang lets his hand fall to squeeze the knee. He hopes Shi Guang can feel the intent behind it. Yu Liang is here. He isn’t running away this time, either, now that he and Shi Guang are on equal footing.
Still, it’s not enough to comfort, so he says, “I didn’t mean to hurt you.”
“Don’t worry, don’t worry.” Shi Guang waves away the concern, even as he wipes tears from his eyes and sniffles. “I…wanted a word for him, I think. I just wish I could see his face if I called him ‘ba.’” The joke lightens his voice a little. “You didn’t hurt me, I just miss him sometimes. That’s why I try to talk to him when I can. I know he’s listening, especially when I play Go.”
Yu Liang has enough pieces to put it together. He knows who Chu Ying is, what the connection between him leaving Wei Da and Shi Guang quitting is. He wishes he’d known then what Shi Guang was going through, how much pain he must have been in. Do his other friends know about Chu Ying? They can’t, or else Yu Liang would’ve learned about him long ago. It makes some part of him ache to know how long Shi Guang has been holding these words in, how much they must have burned, especially with everyone urging him to play Go again.
At least Yu Liang knows now. But he doesn’t have to say as much. Instead, he nods. “So it’s not just for luck. It’s to connect to him.”
Shi Guang snorts. “Luck?” He squints up at Yu Liang through his tears, even with an amused grin. “Why the hell did you think it was for luck?”
“Well—you know. You’ve seen all the rituals all the other Go players do.”
“I don’t think so.” Shi Guang wipes away the last tear, leaning towards Yu Liang. “What about you? What does the great and illustrious Yu Liang do for luck?”
Yu Liang takes his hand back. “I don’t need luck.”
“Aw, c’mon, you have to do something. What is it? I won’t tell.”
“I get the blankets stolen by you the night before a match.” Yu Liang’s lips twitch at his own joke.
“You’re the one who steals the blankets,” Shi Guang accuses. “Maybe that’s where it comes from!”
“I told you, I don’t need luck. I have skill.”
“Whatever,” Shi Guang laughs. “I’ll find out what your ritual is soon enough.”
“Shi Guang, it doesn’t exist.”
“Yu Liang, yes it does, and I’ll find it.”
They share a laugh, both too amused to keep the banter flowing. And as they quiet down and fall into an easy silence, Yu Liang is surprised to find that he’s still wide awake.
“Let’s play a game,” he suggests.
“Now? Aren’t you tired?”
Yu Liang shakes his head. “No. Anyway, you miss Chu Ying, right? Maybe this can be a way to help. Whenever you miss him, we can play a game together, and you’ll feel closer to him. It’ll help me thank him, too.”
“For what?”
“For you. If he taught you Go, he’s part of the reason we met, right? And now we’re Go partners, so….”
“Yu Liang.” Shi Guang places both hands on Yu Liang’s shoulders, heavy and solemn. He stares at Yu Liang head-on, silent. Yu Liang is tempted to start fidgeting before Shi Guang smiles and says, “This is the best idea you’ve had.” He shoves Yu Liang a little in his excitement to get up from the bed and scurry to the living room.
Yu Liang is stuck for a moment after Shi Guang leaves, rooted by an unknown force. He finds his gaze drifting to the window. He can’t see the moon, though its light shines down, making the white sill glow. As with everything, Shi Guang has a way of making tonight feel lighter than it should.
But Yu Liang finally has answers he’s been chasing for years now. He wants to absorb, to sit and allow these thoughts the weight they’re due. He finds himself walking to the window, some inexplicable urge to see the moon gripping him. It’s full tonight, white surface perfectly round.
He murmurs, “Chu Ying, huh?”
The enigma’s story is sadder and closer to home than Yu Liang expected. And while Shi Guang didn’t tell him everything, he told him enough. Reluctant as he was, he finally, finally shared something. If Yu Liang is honest with himself, that means more than the answers he received. He doesn’t like the thought of Shi Guang bottling things up, hiding things he shouldn’t have to. He still hasn’t returned to his old self, the carefree one with no shadows in his face from before he tried to quit. Maybe he never will—but he can get close. And hopefully, sharing will have helped.
“Yu Liang! I’m taking black and making my first move if you don’t get in here!”
“Coming, coming! Jeez….”
He steals one last glance at the moon before he shuts the window and leaves the room. As they play, they’re both distracted—but playing isn’t so much about the game this time as it is what it represents, the feelings it brings up. Yu Liang hasn’t gone through what Shi Guang has, but he still hopes it makes him feel a little closer to his father figure.
(He still beats Shi Guang, though. He can’t get too sympathetic.)