I Really Didn’t Mean to Play Go!
Chapter 343: Please… Play Another Game With Me!

“So that’s it. Zhu Xinyuan wants to surround the top. He’s even willing to settle for such a small gain on the bottom to do it.”

In the rest area, Jiang Changdong stared at the Go board and said, “He’s trying to use the bottom to pin down the white stones so he can force a big enclosure on the top.”

Across from him, Zhuang Weisheng nodded as he studied the board. “A last-ditch effort from Black?”

Just then, on the TV screen, a white stone slowly dropped into the upper-right corner, densely packed with black stones.

Clack!

17th column, 3rd row—3-3 Point Invasion!

“What?!”

Jiang Changdong froze, then shot up from his seat in shock, his expression filled with disbelief as he stared at the screen.

He couldn’t contain himself. “He didn’t reduce the territory—he directly invaded the 3-3?!”

That entire corner was flooded with black stones. Aside from this newly placed white stone, there wasn’t another white stone in sight!

In other words, this white stone was utterly alone, surrounded from all sides. It looked like suicide!

But...

Soon, Jiang’s eyes widened bit by bit as realization dawned on him. His mouth fell open, but he could no longer speak.

Yes!

At first glance, Black had the numerical advantage. But looking deeper—despite so many black stones—there was shockingly no good way to deal with this lone white stone!

Even in this narrow and seemingly doomed space, White was guaranteed to live!

“This move…”

Zhuang Weisheng stared at the screen and slowly said, “It completely shattered Zhu Xinyuan’s hopes of building a framework on the upper side.”

Silence.

The entire rest area went completely still.

On the TV, black and white stones continued to fall in succession.

Minutes ticked by.

Everyone could now tell—so long as White didn’t make a major mistake, Black had no chance.

Even in the endgame, even if White played conservatively, it would be extremely difficult for Black to catch up.

This game was all but over.

Finally, after dozens more moves and the endgame wrapped up, two black stones gently fell on the board.

The rest area became even quieter.

“Zhu Xinyuan…”

Zhuang Weisheng finally spoke. “...has lost.”

He stared at the board for a moment, then added, “Unlike the game against Li You, in this match, Teacher Zhu didn’t find a single opportunity.”

---

Inside the Handtalk Room.

“I... lost.”

Zhu Xinyuan sat frozen in front of the board, dazed, still seeing every move play out before him in his mind. “How is this possible…”

He had seen Yu Shao’s records. He’d felt the pressure, the threat. He knew Yu Shao wasn’t someone to underestimate.

But he had never imagined losing—and not like this.

To be forced to resign by a move like that divine shoulder hit... without even putting up a fight!

The recorder and referee were also stunned.

Ever since that sixth-line shoulder hit, Black had been completely suppressed. Even his last stand was dismantled by White’s 3-3 invasion.

Just then, Yu Shao reached out and began putting the stones back into the bowl.

Before long, he had packed away all the white stones and slowly stood up, ready to leave.

Only when he was about to walk away did Zhu Xinyuan finally snap out of it.

“Wait!”

Zhu called out, staring at Yu Shao’s back.

Yu Shao stopped, puzzled, and looked back at him.

Everyone in the room also turned to look.

“Play another game with me!”

Zhu Xinyuan locked eyes with him, face filled with unwillingness. “Another game… please.”

Not just Yu Shao—the referee and recorder were both stunned.

“Teacher Zhu…”

The bald referee could clearly feel the deep unwillingness and desperation in his voice.

“Teacher Zhu, it’s getting late.”

The female recorder forced a smile. “And that game went on for quite a while. Aren’t you tired?”

“I’m not tired. I can still play! One more, or even two more—I can keep going!”

Zhu’s tone was urgent.

“So please...”

Zhu gritted his teeth and said, “Play another game with me!”

Startled by his intense tone, the female recorder fell silent.

She never expected a seasoned pro like Zhu Xinyuan—forty years old—to speak with such pleading in his voice.

Yu Shao stared at him silently.

This attitude... felt familiar.

As for another game... he still had energy, but he hadn’t eaten all day. He was starting to get hungry.

“How about we eat first?”

Yu Shao asked.

“Sure!”

Zhu’s eyes lit up. “There’s a Go parlor near the academy. I’ll wait for you there.”

Yu Shao nodded and finally walked to the door, pushing it open and stepping out.

Only after Yu Shao left did Zhu take a deep breath, pack away his stones, and follow him out of the room.

Left behind, the referee and recorder exchanged glances.

After a beat, the bald referee asked, “Are... are you guys going?”

“I’m going!”

The tall, skinny referee jumped up. “Time for dinner.”

“I’m skipping dinner. I’ll grab some whole wheat bread and milk at the convenience store and head over now.”

The female recorder glanced at the paper record sheet—the backup in case of computer failure—and took it and a pen before hurrying out.

“The second game, huh…”

The bald referee stared at the board.

The first match was already brilliant. But he had a strong feeling the second one would be even more extraordinary.

From Zhu Xinyuan’s tone, it was clear:

He absolutely could not accept ending the match with that crushing loss.

In the next game, he would fight with everything he had.

“Whew...”

The referee let out a long breath and stood to leave the room.

---

At the Donghai Go Parlor, which sat near the academy, the place was bustling as usual.

“Regret that move! I played it wrong!”

“Come on, Lao Li—Go is like life. No regrets!”

“Xiao Gao, two lemon pomelo teas!”

“Pfft, that move was trash! Trying to beat me with that?”

“Keep it down—people are trying to play here!”

Unlike other Go parlors, which demanded quiet, Donghai’s regulars were all friends. Spectators often chimed in, even jokingly sabotaging friends with bad advice. It was all about joyful Go, and the air was filled with laughter.

“Two lemon pomelos, coming right up!”

At the front desk, Boss Gao—the cheerful woman in charge—smiled as she brewed fruit tea.

Then the door opened.

In walked Zhu Xinyuan, dressed in a full suit.

“Welcome to—”

She looked up and froze.

Her eyes widened.

“Z-Zhu Xinyuan?! The Meijin?!”

“I don’t hold a title this year. Just 9-dan.”

Zhu Xinyuan smiled faintly. “Is there a spot open?”

“That won’t last long! You’ll take a title again soon, I’m sure of it!”

High-spirited, Boss Gao beamed. “Of course there’s space. Are you going to play here?”

Donghai was close to the academy, but pro players rarely visited—maybe a few low-dan pros on occasion.

A heavyweight like Zhu Xinyuan? Never.

If word got out, her business would skyrocket!

“Yes.”

Zhu nodded. “Do you have a private room?”

“Private room?”

Boss Gao looked a little awkward. “We used to have one, but not anymore. Most of our guests are regulars—it got phased out…”

Zhu glanced toward the noisy rooms inside and frowned.

At that moment, the guests began to notice.

“Huh?”

“Is that… Zhu Xinyuan, 9-dan?”

“Holy sh*t, it is!”

“Oh my god, I’m a huge fan!”

The whole parlor erupted with excitement.

“Everyone, please settle down!”

Boss Gao waved her hands. “Teacher Zhu is going to play here. Can everyone please keep it down so you don’t disturb his match?”

“What? He’s playing here?”

“For real?”

“Zhu Xinyuan is going to play? Screw my game—I’m watching that!”

“We’re witnessing a legend! Who’d want to play after this?”

Zhu was offered a seat. “Teacher Zhu, take mine—this seat has a great win rate!”

“Hah, like he needs your ‘lucky’ seat.”

Boss Gao turned to Zhu, nervous and hopeful. “Teacher Zhu, is this okay?”

“It’ll do,” Zhu said. “Can you get me some bread? How much for that and the two player fees?”

“No charge! You playing here is great for business!”

Boss Gao waved it off.

Zhu started to protest but let it go. He entered and sat at an empty table.

The guests crowded around.

“Teacher Zhu, who’s your opponent?” someone asked.

“Yu Shao, 3-dan,” Zhu replied.

Everyone froze.

“Yu Shao?”

“Wait—the Yu Shao?”

“The one who dismantled the Avalanche, Demon Blade, and Large Diagonal?”

“He’s coming here to play against Zhu Xinyuan?”

A few hadn’t realized today’s match was part of the National Master Tournament.

But those who looked it up quickly found the result:

Zhu Xinyuan—loss. Yu Shao—win.

Wait—this was… a rematch?

Zhu quietly ate his bread, every move of the previous game replaying in his mind.

“He couldn’t predict my every move, but... he found an answer for everything I threw at him.”

“I underestimated him. I thought, deep down, that he was too young.”

“But I was wrong.”

“He’s not just formidable—he’s the kind of opponent I have to fight tooth and nail, down to the very last half-point!”

“But he’s not flawless. His game still has cracks.”

“If I can seize on them—like a wolf latching onto prey—I can win!”

“No hesitation. No mercy. Cut off every escape.”

“Every step must be precise.”

At that moment, the female recorder entered and sat beside him. Two referees soon followed.

And not long after, several other pro players showed up.

Then—two figures appeared at the entrance, drawing everyone’s gaze.

Zhuang Weisheng.

Jiang Changdong.

Boss Gao’s mind was spinning.

“My Go parlor… is about to go viral!”

The crowd parted instinctively to let them through. The air grew tense.

Then, about seven or eight minutes later, a young, clean-cut figure stepped through the door.

Yu Shao.

Everyone's eyes locked on him.

Zhu looked up too. “He’s here.”

Yu Shao silently approached the board. The crowd parted again.

He sat across from Zhu.

Zhu’s expression turned grave. Without turning his head, he said,

“Yóu Hàochén, it’s getting late. One and a half hours per player, one-minute byo-yomi.”

The bald referee blinked. Why was Zhu giving him instructions?

Then it hit him—

Zhu Xinyuan wasn’t treating this as a casual game. He was treating it like a title match.

The referee inhaled deeply and declared:

“Match time—one and a half hours per side, one-minute byo-yomi, 7.5-point komi.”

Strangely, he felt more pressure here than he had in the official tournament room.

“Players, determine who plays first.”

Zhu kept his eyes locked on Yu Shao and reached into the bowl, grabbing a handful of white stones.

Yu Shao, silent, took out two black stones and placed them on the board.

Clack. Clack. Clack.

Zhu released his stones—seven white stones.

“Odd. Zhu Xinyuan, 9-dan, plays Black. Yu Shao, 3-dan, plays White.”

They bowed respectfully.

The crowd held its breath.

Even though no stone had been placed yet, the atmosphere was suffocating—a storm was coming.

“This is their second game.”

“Zhu Xinyuan lost the first one.”

“So what about this one?”

Everyone wondered the same thing.

In silence, Zhu reached into the bowl. The sound of stones clinking echoed—

The game had begun.

Clack!

16th column, 4th row—Star!

Yu Shao immediately followed—

16th column, 16th row—Star!

Zhu:

4th column, 4th row—Star!

Yu Shao responded:

4th column, 16th row—Star!

Diagonal Star Formation. Both sides match.