I Really Didn’t Mean to Play Go!
Chapter 177: Does Winning or Losing Really Matter?

The next day, another round of the National Master Tournament preliminaries was about to begin.

Yu Shao woke up early, went through his usual morning routine, and then hurried out of the house.

Stopping by a breakfast street near his neighborhood, he bought a few beef buns and a bottle of yogurt before hailing a taxi to the Southern Go Academy.

Today’s playing room was different from the last match. It was located in a side hall at the back left of the academy.

After passing through the main hall, Yu Shao walked along the corridor, passing by the academy’s lounge—a place where many players were eating breakfast while waiting for their matches to start.

As he walked past the entrance, countless eyes turned toward him.

Only after his figure disappeared down the corridor did the quiet murmur of conversations break out.

“That’s Yu Shao? The one who played the 3-3 Point?”

“Yeah, that’s him. He’s one of this year’s new 1-dans.”

“I heard his first pro match was against Wu Shuheng, a 3-dan, and he won.”

“Yeah, same here. It’s rare for a brand-new pro to defeat a 3-dan right away.”

“Damn it, why do all the newcomers keep getting stronger? The pressure is insane.”

“I was called a Go prodigy when I was a kid. If I weren’t, I wouldn’t have even made it as a professional. But after becoming one, I realized—compared to real geniuses, I’m just another average player.”

---

In the lounge, among those quietly listening to the conversation, an 18-year-old player let out a soft sigh, feeling an odd sense of shared frustration.

Like many here, he had been hailed as a prodigy growing up.

But truthfully, anyone who becomes a professional Go player was once considered a prodigy.

Someone with merely above-average talent wouldn’t even consider pursuing a professional career.

Even if they tried, they would never make it—just wasting their time.

Even the weakest pro players were still one-in-a-thousand talents in the outside world.

But among prodigies, there were still levels.

Three years ago, at fifteen, he had entered the professional world, full of ambition and confidence.

Yet he quickly realized—the world was overflowing with talent.

Everywhere he looked, rising stars walked freely, and elites were as common as weeds.

He was just another ordinary player in a world of geniuses.

He remembered boldly declaring that he would one day stand at the pinnacle of Go.

Now, three years later, he was still stuck at 3-dan.

“Rank doesn’t define strength,” he thought.

“But if you stay in one rank for too long… then it does.”

What made it worse was that he wasn’t avoiding promotions.

He actively competed in ranking tournaments, yet his rank barely moved.

Just a month ago, he had played a match against Wu Shuheng.

He lost by 4.5 points.

Then, just a few days ago, Wu Shuheng lost to Yu Shao.

Go didn’t follow a linear hierarchy—a 2-dan beating a 9-dan who had previously beaten a world champion didn’t mean the 2-dan was stronger than a world champion.

He understood that.

And yet—he couldn’t help but feel uneasy.

---

“Du Shuang, who’s your opponent today?”

Beside him, a 16-year-old boy wearing a baseball cap curiously asked.

“Bai He, a 4-dan.”

Du Shuang snapped out of his thoughts and replied, “I’ve beaten 4-dan players before, but it’s never easy. Today’s match will be a tough fight.”

After saying this, he turned to the boy in the cap.

“What about you? Who are you up against?”

The boy casually adjusted the brim of his hat, grinning.

“The guy who just walked past the lounge.”

Du Shuang’s eyes widened slightly.

“You mean… Yu Shao?”

Wang Yao chuckled. "Yeah. Ever since watching the Flame Inheritance Match, I’ve been dying to play against him. Didn’t expect it to happen this soon. Lucky me."

“Lucky you?!”

Du Shuang looked at him like he was crazy.

“You only need three more wins to reach 2-dan. Facing him now is not a good thing!"

"He may only be a 1-dan, but after playing that new 3-3 variation in the Flame Inheritance Match, even Zhuang Weisheng suffered a major setback. Then, in his first pro match, he beat Wu Shuheng, a 3-dan."

"You’re just a 1-dan—"

Wang Yao shook his head, cutting him off.

"But even if I lose, I’ll still learn a lot. Does winning really matter that much?"

Du Shuang froze.

For a moment, he was speechless.

Did winning really not matter?

"That new 3-3 variation shocked me."

Wang Yao stood up, stretching casually.

"I don’t care whether it’s good or bad—what matters is that I never even imagined Go could be played that way."

"That’s why I want to play against him."

"So even if I lose, it’s fine."

With an easygoing smile, he waved.

"Alright, I should get going. Good luck with your match."

Du Shuang watched Wang Yao’s figure disappear down the hall.

He stood still for a long time.

Then, finally, he let out a slow exhale, shaking his head.

He had to go too.

---

Does winning or losing really matter?

No matter how he thought about it, he couldn’t bring himself to believe it didn’t.

After all—

If winning didn’t matter, then what was the point of competing at all?

As the match time approached, the competing players gradually entered the playing rooms and took their seats.

Unlike the previous rounds, Yu Shao didn't see any familiar faces today.

But he wasn’t surprised.

With so many players participating in the National Master Tournament preliminaries, the schedule varied for each competitor. The fact that he had coincidentally run into Wu Shuheng and Zheng Qin in previous rounds had already been quite lucky.

---

Shortly after, Wang Yao entered the room.

His gaze immediately locked onto Table 10, where Yu Shao was already seated.

Taking a deep breath, Wang Yao steadied himself.

He had been looking forward to this match immensely.

And while he had mentally prepared himself for defeat, that didn’t mean he wanted to lose.

In fact, knowing that his opponent was strong only made him more eager to win.

Still—even if he lost, he was ready to accept it.

Wang Yao adjusted his mindset, walked over, pulled out the chair opposite Yu Shao, and sat down.

Yu Shao glanced at him and gave him a slight nod, a simple gesture of greeting.

Wang Yao returned the nod but remained silent.

Both of them understood—they were opponents.

In the next few hours, they would fight for victory on the board, giving their all.

There was no need for words.

A quiet, tense atmosphere settled between them, the kind of silent pressure common before an intense battle.

Not just them—the entire room was the same.

Even among those who knew each other, few spoke.

Before a match, silence was the norm, an unspoken way of showing respect for the upcoming game.

Of course, pre-game conversations weren’t forbidden.

But when they happened, they usually served a specific purpose—just like how Ban Hao had tried to shake Zheng Qin’s confidence three days ago.

---

“The match begins now.”

A referee checked his watch and announced in a deep voice,

“Each player has two and a half hours, with one-minute overtime countdowns. Now, proceed with determining turn order.”

At those words, Wang Yao immediately reached into the Go bowl, grabbing a handful of white stones and rubbing them against his palm.

Yu Shao, in turn, took two black stones and placed them on the board.

“Please let me get White…”

Wang Yao thought to himself, slowly opening his hand.

Compared to Black, he preferred playing White.

While White was passive, it didn’t need to bear the burden of komi, and his playstyle naturally leaned toward waiting for opportunities rather than initiating fights.

This meant his win rate was higher when playing White.

Of course, some players preferred Black, since it allowed them to set the pace of the game.

And some didn’t care at all, treating both colors as equal.

It all came down to personal preference.

“Ten stones.”

After counting, a small smile appeared on Wang Yao’s face.

“I play White.”

“I play Black.”

Yu Shao calmly returned his black stones to the bowl, then bowed slightly to Wang Yao.

“Please guide me.”

Wang Yao immediately bowed in return.

“Please guide me.”

---

The game had begun.

Yu Shao studied the board calmly, then reached into the Go bowl, picked up a stone, and played his first move.

Click.

Small Point, Column 17, Row 4.

Seeing Yu Shao’s move, Wang Yao took a deep breath before placing his response.

Click.

Star Point, Column 4, Row 16.

Click, click, click…

The two continued their moves—

• Black played two Small Points.
• White played two Star Points.

This resulted in Black adopting a Mixed Small Point strategy against White’s Double Star formation.

It was once again Black’s turn.

Yu Shao reached for another stone.

Click.

Large Knight’s Enclosure, Column 14, Row 3!

Wang Yao’s expression froze.

“A Small Point using a Large Knight’s Enclosure?”

His mind raced.

"Aren’t you supposed to use a Small Knight’s Enclosure here?"

If Black wanted to enclose the corner, the standard move was a Small Knight’s Enclosure, creating an Unassailable Corner.

But if Black wasn’t going to enclose the corner, then why play a Mixed Small Point opening in the first place?

Before he could fully process it, he quickly reached for a stone and made his move.

Click.

Small Knight’s Approach, Column 17, Row 15!

Yu Shao responded almost immediately.

Click.

Diagonal, Column 16, Row 15.

Wang Yao’s eyes widened.

“…A diagonal?”

His mind went blank for a moment.

This Diagonal move was an incredibly ancient strategy.

Over a hundred years ago, before komi was introduced, it had been popular among professionals.

But while this move was solid, it was also slow—it couldn’t handle the modern komi handicap.

That was why professionals had abandoned it long ago.

It might still appear in amateur games, but in professional tournaments, it was as obsolete as a relic of the past.

Yet Yu Shao… had just played it.

---

Only seven moves in, and Wang Yao had already encountered two incomprehensible plays.

His brow furrowed tightly.

“…What the hell is this?”

Shaking off his confusion, he forced himself to refocus, reaching into the Go bowl for his next move.

Click, click, click…

Another ten or so moves followed.

Gradually, Wang Yao’s mind calmed.

At least these recent moves were understandable.

And not just understandable—they were incredibly precise.

But then—

Yu Shao played again.

Click.

Small Knight’s Approach, Column 3, Row 14!

Wang Yao’s eyes snapped open in shock.

“…He tenuki’d?!”

His breath hitched, and he found himself biting his thumbnail, staring at the board in utter bewilderment.