Chapter Seventy-Five: The Gomoku King

Zhao Funing made a list of items, all groceries they needed to buy.

It was now the logistics team’s turn to act.

Chen Weiguo, the notorious charmer among middle-aged women, and Bai Qiong, who had been vegetable vendors the previous week, were even more skilled at bargaining now.

With those two in charge, there was nothing to worry about.

Once the elderly couple left, everyone sat idly in the main hall.

Ji Chen unearthed a set of Gomoku from the lounge area.

“Anyone up for a game?”

“Gomoku, huh…” Lin Ze glanced at the board, a faint smile lifting his lips.

“No thanks, Gomoku’s a bit dull,” Su Zitan shook her head.

“Come on, I’ve played since I was a kid and never lost.”

Ji Chen set the board on the table, tugging Lin Chunshui onto the sofa beside him.

“Wife, let’s team up—invincible!”

“So, who dares challenge us?”

With excitement lighting up his face, Ji Chen looked at Pei Xue and Zhao Funing, then at Lin Ze and Su Zitan.

“I’ll give it a try.” Zhao Funing scooted forward.

Ji Chen placed the black stones in front of Zhao Funing. “Go ahead, Zhao, you start. I’ll give you the first move.”

“Getting cocky, are we?”

Unfazed, Zhao Funing placed the black stone squarely in the center.

Ji Chen quickly followed suit.

One move after another, with Pei Xue cracking sunflower seeds and coaching from the sidelines—several of Ji Chen’s traps were spotted by Pei Xue, who helped Zhao Funing navigate them.

But Ji Chen’s groundwork was too solid. Even with a few escapes, the tide couldn’t be turned.

With the advantage from the first half, Ji Chen clinched victory with a live three and a dead four.

“Again!” Zhao Funing wouldn’t admit defeat.

This time, Ji Chen seemed to hit his stride, suppressing Zhao Funing completely from the start.

Zhao Funing lost the second round as well.

It always felt so close, but still he lost.

[Not great, Teacher Zhao, you’re kind of green.]

[Right? Aunt Xue’s got some game at least.]

[Hope you’re talking about chess, not something else.]

Just as Zhao Funing placed the first stone of the third game, a pair of hotel guests came down from upstairs.

The elderly couple eyed the group at the table, sensing some familiarity.

“Hello, is there something we can help you with?” Su Zitan greeted them with a smile.

“Ah, well… We’d like to order some food,” the old lady gestured toward the empty restaurant. “Is it possible to order now?”

“Yes, of course, though we’re missing quite a few dishes at the moment,” Zhao Funing handed the chessboard over to Pei Xue and led the couple to the restaurant to look over the menu.

Pei Xue and Ji Chen continued their match for a while longer, but Pei Xue still lost in the end.

“I’m done!” she exclaimed, slapping her thigh and shoving the pieces back into the box.

“Hey, I’m the chess king! Xiao Lin, Zitan, want to give it a shot?” Ji Chen asked, twirling a chess piece between his fingers, clearly pleased.

“No, really, this game…” Su Zitan declined again.

“Come on,” Ji Chen urged, thinking for a moment. “Tell you what: if either of you wins, I’ll do your chores tomorrow!”

“Really?” Lin Ze asked.

“Absolutely! I said it right here, the camera’s rolling, the audience can see it.”

With the challenge set, it seemed only right to take the chance to slack off tomorrow.

“Alright, I have my general—Zitan! She’ll cut Ji Chen down!” Lin Ze declared, sending Su Zitan to the table.

[Why is she the general all of a sudden?]

Su Zitan gave a faint, serene smile and sat across from Ji Chen.

“Alright, Zitan, you start,” Ji Chen said, handing her the black stones.

“Don’t mind if I do,” Su Zitan replied, placing her first stone in the center.

Ji Chen responded immediately.

After four consecutive moves, Ji Chen’s three stones pressed tightly against Zitan’s line.

A lightning formation was set.

With her fifth move, Su Zitan created a live three.

What seemed like an ordinary game suddenly shifted.

Ji Chen hesitated, blocking one side of the live three.

With her sixth move, Su Zitan formed two more live threes.

In this rule-free version of Gomoku, she had executed a flawless kill.

“That’s it?” Pei Xue’s eyes widened in disbelief.

“Yup,” Su Zitan replied lightly, “Tomorrow, the front desk is all yours, Ji Chen.”

“…I can’t accept this. One more game!”

No matter how much he racked his brains, Ji Chen couldn’t figure out how Su Zitan had won.

“Still want to play?”

“Let’s go! Another day on the line!”

Lin Ze glanced at the camera. “Dear viewers, remember, never fall prey to gambler’s logic.”

As if to prove his point, in the second game, Su Zitan switched to the Black Tortoise formation, winning swiftly once again.

“Huh? Huh?”

[At this point, I love the classic Gomoku player’s phrase: ‘Huh?’]

[That’s called the Black Tortoise formation. The last one was the Lightning formation—both are unbeatable Gomoku strategies.]

[Gomoku actually has a pretty low skill ceiling. Memorize these winning patterns, use them in games, and you’ll win.]

“Again!” Ji Chen was baffled by his losses.

It wasn’t losing that stung, but not understanding why.

“Another day?”

“Three days!”

Game after game, Su Zitan won with ease.

Four days, five days—until he’d wagered and lost seven days, and Ji Chen still didn’t know how he was being beaten.

“See that, everyone?” Lin Ze addressed the camera, still giving his public service announcement. “A whole week of a man’s life, gone just like that.”

“Stop rubbing it in!” Ji Chen clutched the chess pieces, his eyes now tinged with confusion.

[Ji the Silly is getting desperate, haha.]

[I know you’re anxious, but don’t panic just yet.]

“Don’t dwell on it,” Lin Ze chuckled. “Zitan was once the city’s junior high Gomoku champion.”

Junior high champion…

Ji Chen looked even more lost.

“What other games are there?” Lin Ze rummaged through a box behind the sofa.

Chinese chess, Gomoku, military chess, international chess, and some card games.

“Perfect, looks like tonight we’ve found our theme.”

He set out all the games. “We’ll each guard a table, play quick rounds of these board games. Win and you advance, lose and you buy a beer and queue up for the next round.”

“Wait—if Zitan’s guarding the final table, who can get through?” Lin Chunshui asked, eyeing the array of games.

“Oh, come on, Lin, I was only the junior high champion. There’s still the high school champ, and the college champ out there,” Su Zitan said, squinting with a smile.

“What’s the prize?” Pei Xue, ever practical, immediately focused on the payoff.

“How about this: our opening theme, ending theme, and four character songs—let’s make an album. The top three who clear all the rounds get a signed copy from all of us. Sound good?”