I Really Didn’t Mean to Play Go!
Chapter 45: The Pride of a Genius

The final game turned out to be unexpectedly long.

Throughout the midgame, Black and White were neck and neck, with victory hanging by a thread. Intense battles during the middle phase led to the final endgame.

Even Yu Shao couldn’t predict the outcome in advance.

The gap between the two sides was minimal. One moment it seemed Black was poised to win, only for them to squander their slight advantage the next. The same applied to White.

At this point, everyone gathered around to watch the conclusion of this tense game—except Xu Zijin.

Xu Zijin remained seated, silently gazing at the board before her. She first placed a black stone, then a white one.

Clack.

Clack.

Clack.

If White truly opted for the Zhìgū strategy, the situation would become unimaginably complex and escalate to a level of ferocity that she couldn’t control or calculate.

But could White really execute such a strategy?

Thus, she began analyzing various scenarios stemming from White’s attempts to survive in Black’s territory.

The deeper she delved into these scenarios, the quieter she became.

She explored numerous variations, yet White consistently failed to secure a promising position. However, when she considered White playing a Tiger’s Mouth move, everything changed...

If White managed to make the Tiger’s Mouth move within Black’s sphere of influence, the game would take an unprecedentedly dire turn for Black.

The Tiger’s Mouth was an elusive move. Without careful analysis, she wouldn’t have realized it even after testing countless variations.

Xu Zijin turned her head toward Yu Shao, who was observing the final game.

“So… did he only see the possibility of White surviving?”

“Or… did he also foresee the Tiger’s Mouth move when he suggested survival?”

On the other side of the room, the endgame finally concluded after another ten minutes. Both players began tallying up the points.

“Black wins,” Chen Jiaming announced softly. “After komi, Black wins by 1.5 points.”

The boy sitting across from Zhong Yufei clenched his fists in frustration and lowered his head. “I lost.”

Hearing this, Zhong Yufei exhaled deeply, wiping sweat from his forehead. “Thank you for the game.”

“Thank you for the game.”

The boy gritted his teeth as he begrudgingly conceded. His face was full of dissatisfaction—after all, the margin between victory and defeat was razor-thin.

But even if it was just by a hair, a loss was still a loss.

As for the other two players, they had no such frustrations. The gaps in their games were too significant. One had no hope of winning, while the other failed to see the winning move despite its potential.

It was over.

Wang Rui stood in silent resignation.

In the end, none of the three managed to secure a victory. All three games were losses.

“You played well,” Chen Jiaming said, patting Wang Rui’s shoulder. He looked at the trio with a smile. “All of you did a great job. You’ve improved so much compared to last year. If I played against you without focus, I might even lose.”

The three remained silent, their heads hung low.

“As I’ve always said, what matters most is that you do your best. If you’ve done that, it’s enough.”

Chen Jiaming smiled warmly. “Though the games were losses, seeing your progress makes all your hard work over the past year worthwhile. I’m proud of you.”

“Mr. Chen…”

Their voices trembled slightly as they looked at their mentor, gratitude and determination glinting in their eyes.

Hearing those words, Wang Rui and the other two couldn’t help but feel moved.

Chen Jiaming glanced at the clock on the wall and said, “It’s getting late. Let’s wrap it up for today. You can all head home.”

Afterward, he turned to Yu Shao and the others, saying, “Remember to come to the activity room after school to practice your games. But…”

He paused and smiled, “I’m not strong enough to play against you anymore, let alone teach you. So, I’ll have to trouble you all to play among yourselves and study the records.”

“Oh, by the way, the school will provide dinner for you. You can have your meals here.”

Elsewhere, at the preliminary rounds of the professional Go qualification tournament:

“I… I lost!”

A boy just over thirteen stared at the board before him, his face full of frustration as he lowered his head.

“Thank you for the game.”

Although he had won, Zheng Qin remained expressionless. He nodded politely at his opponent, quickly packed up his Go stones, and left the room without lingering.

The two referees silently watched him leave.

It wasn’t until Zheng Qin stepped out of the room that they couldn’t hold back their whispered conversation.

“He’s incredible. Three consecutive wins already.”

“His opponent was a kid from a dojo, wasn’t he? And yet, he lost so quickly, easily crushed in the midgame fight.”

“Word is, Zheng Qin’s never trained at a dojo or undergone formal professional training, but he can play at this level. It’s unbelievable!”

“If he keeps this up, qualifying through the preliminaries should be a certainty.”

“Exactly. The other players in this year’s qualification tournament must be feeling the pressure. After all, the number of slots to become a professional player is limited.”

“I heard he’s had the strength to go pro for a while but chose to attend university first.”

“What? Really?”

“It’s true. I heard Xia Wen, the 3-dan player, mention it. She was invited to a university Go league as a guest, and Zheng Qin came in first place. His performance in that game was already close to a professional level.”

The bespectacled referee looked shocked. “If that’s the case, why didn’t he try for professional status earlier? Why wait until university?”

“Apparently, he felt that at the time, he only had a chance of qualifying, not a guarantee. He believed he might need some luck—like a favorable draw—to pass.”

The other referee added, “He said that if he were to participate in the qualification tournament, he didn’t want to rely on even the slightest bit of luck. He wanted to become a professional player with absolute strength and an undefeated record.”

Hearing this, the bespectacled referee was left speechless, a deep sense of awe washing over him.

After a moment, he shook his head and sighed, “Is this the pride of a genius? It’s hard to comprehend…”

Then, with a hint of regret, he added, “It’s a shame he didn’t train at a dojo. If he had, he might be even stronger now.”

“It’s said he doesn’t have much interest in Go.”

The other referee remarked, “He feels it’s easy for him to play well, and qualifying as a professional isn’t difficult, so he didn’t want to join a dojo. He’s not even particularly interested in becoming a professional player.”

“Seriously?”

The bespectacled referee looked incredulous. “But when he plays, he seems so focused and serious, like he genuinely wants to be a professional!”

“That’s what I don’t understand either,” the other referee nodded, puzzled. “Something must have happened to change his mind. He doesn’t seem as arrogant as the rumors suggest anymore.”