Chapter 20: Strange Neighbor 20 Part 3

Xie Wufang: “…”

He lowered his head and fell silent, placing a black stone on the board.

Yu Bai—the only one who fully grasped this exchange—laughed until his head spun.

A short distance away by the flower bed, the burly bodyguards in their floral shirts sat in a neat row. They watched the ever-growing crowd under the tree shade with complicated expressions.

“Has to be eleven or twelve years at least,” one bodyguard counted on his fingers before heaving a deep sigh. “We haven’t seen Young Master Yu laugh like this in so long.”

A Qiang, who was cracking sunflower seeds, hadn’t been prepared for one of his men to spout such a classic novel line.

His scalp tingled as he tossed the shells into the trash bag. “Shut your trap! Stop reading all that crap!”

“Huh?” The man who’d spoken caught on. “How do you know if you don’t read it?”

“…”

A Qiang went quiet for a beat, then looked away. “Is Go really that fun? So many people watching.”

“Dunno. Seems that blue-eyed kid’s playing really well.”

“But didn’t he just learn the rules?”

“He’s that good already?”

The bodyguards gossiped among themselves, then one turned to A Qiang curiously. “Brother Qiang, what’s the deal with that kid and our Young Master Yu? Never seen him before. How’d they end up hanging out today? Online friends?”

“You asking me?” A Qiang blinked, then flashed a friendly grin. “Am I usually with you guys on every move?”

“Yeah!”

“Then who the hell do I ask!” He good-naturedly chucked a handful of seeds at them. “I don’t know either! Young Master Yu doesn’t chat with me!”

“Oh.”

The others deftly caught the seeds, cracked them, and properly deposited the shells in the trash bag.

Suddenly, one of the buzz-cut guys stared at the dense crowd, his expression turning serious. “Brother Qiang, doesn’t that look like…”

At that moment, among the spectators, the more knowledgeable Go enthusiasts were slapping their thighs in excitement. “This is insane. No way he’s a beginner, right?”

“Old Yuan, Old Zhang, you two aren’t teaming up to fool us, are you? How could a first-timer perfectly recreate your abandoned game like this? And why bother? If he’s that good, why not just beat you outright?”

Old Man Yuan kept his eyes glued to the board. “Quiet down! Don’t bug him. We’re at the critical moment!”

Yu Bai had lost track of the board’s intricacies by now, but he could guess why Xie Wufang was doing this.

The guy’s memory was like a photographic printer—perfect recall. And he’d only seen that one game.

On his first try at Go, it made sense he’d subconsciously draw from the one example he knew to explore and learn.

By the end of this game, he’d fully internalized the rules. What would likely be a losing position for black in an ordinary player’s hands might turn out differently in the grasp of someone utterly beyond normal logic—like a non-human.

As the game neared its decisive end, Yu Bai set aside his snacks and watched Xie Wufang, who held the black stones, with rapt attention.

A glossy black Go stone hovered at the tips of his slender, strong fingers, poised to drop.

Everyone else held their breath, eyes unblinking, awaiting the move that just might reverse the tide.

In that instant, several garishly dressed figures charged aggressively into the crowd, sparking a wave of startled cries.

The very moment the black stone touched down on the goose-yellow board, a shifty-looking man in the crowd was tackled to the ground.

Old Man Yuan, who was hunched over the board, widened his eyes. “A stroke from the heavens… I get it now. I get it.”

Enlightenment dawned. He thumped his chest and slowly slid down onto the stone bench.

Old Man Zhang, still marveling, patted his back to help him catch his breath while reassuring his opponent. “He’s okay, don’t worry. Maybe the meds aren’t kicking in strong enough. Trip to the hospital’ll fix it.”

The crowd erupted in shouts and screams—some calling for an ambulance, others yelling about a fight.

“Whoa, Old Yuan passed out again! Call 120! Get a car!”

“What’s with the brawl? Why’re those guys rushing in—call the cops!”

The rat-faced man who’d been pinned down struggled furiously. “What’re you doing? Assault!”

The bodyguards subdued him effortlessly. A Qiang snatched a phone from his hand and shoved it at a nearby young man who hadn’t yet processed what was happening. “Rebelling right under our noses, huh? Got some guts!”

The stranger had been startled by A Qiang’s scarred face and jumped back. But when he saw the phone suddenly appear before him, he patted his empty pocket and finally caught on. He wasn’t quite so scared anymore.

“This guy stole my phone? Thanks, thanks a ton… Uh, sorry about that.”

A Qiang waved a massive hand, unperturbed by the instinctive wariness. “No biggie. Next time you’re watching the crowd, keep an eye out.”

“Hey? Someone pulled open my bag too—”

“Thieves here! Call the police!”

The captured pickpocket tried to turn the tables. “Help! They’re assaulting me! They’re the ones stealing!”

A Qiang was seriously tempted to punch him now. “Say that again, I dare you!”

In an instant, the crowd descended into total chaos—people dialing emergency lines, screaming for help, calling cabs, you name it.

Amid the cacophony, Yu Bai remained perfectly calm, ignoring everything around him. Only then did he remember—he’d forgotten one thing.

He watched Xie Wufang, who had just won the endgame position, and spoke with some apology in his voice.

“I forgot to tell you that this little adventure sometimes comes with unforeseeable mishaps.” He sounded a bit helpless as he continued, “We might have to head to the police station to give a statement.”

In the distance, the wail of ambulance and police sirens grew louder.

Yu Bai was all too familiar with what was about to unfold, and this chaotic farce held no surprises for him.

Before he had stepped into that elevator doomed to plummet, this had been his everyday routine—endlessly filled with accidents and uncertainties.

He had meant to mess with his non-human neighbor a bit, but not like this: not when he had just watched the man earnestly learn something unfamiliar, finally savor the thrill of victory, only to get inexplicably dragged into someone else’s mess.

Amid the park’s shady grove, now plunged into total disorder, Xie Wufang stood as another soul utterly indifferent to the commotion behind him.

After hearing Yu Bai’s apologetic words, he showed no concern. He simply nodded and said, “All right.”

Then he glanced at the chessboard, where the outcome was already set, and murmured, “White lost.”

Yu Bai nodded in agreement. “You’re impressive. You picked it up so quickly.”

At the same time, he caught a certain implication in those words.

This guy didn’t seem to like white all that much.

That must have been why, from the start, he had noticed this board among so many others—the one with more white stones than black.

Yu Bai’s thoughts drifted to that white shirt, once dirtied and smoke-stained from the kitchen fire.

The non-human neighbor might actually find it more appealing that way.

As his mind wandered, he heard the man before him speak softly again. “This game is over.”

Yu Bai blinked, reacting on instinct. “Huh?”

He knew the game was over.

Somewhat bewildered, he pulled his thoughts back and met Xie Wufang’s gaze. Those gray-blue eyes, like rippling lake water, seemed to await a reward.

In that instant, Yu Bai remembered something. A sparkle of amusement lit up his eyes behind the oversized glasses.

He picked up the bag of potato chips from beside him—the one that had remained unopened until now—and tucked it into Xie Wufang’s arms.

“Here,” he said. “Tomato-flavored. My favorite.”

What a good memory.

Fifteen minutes later, a boisterous group arrived at the nearby police station.

The shifty-eyed thief refused to admit anything, shamelessly trying to pin the theft on A Qiang and his crew.

Several of A Qiang’s brothers were desperately holding him back, his arms bulging with veins as they urged him not to get rough in front of the cops.

Xie Wufang, experiencing a police station for the first time, quietly observed his surroundings while sampling human food for the first time: tomato-flavored potato chips.

Meanwhile, Yu Bai responded to the officers’ warm greetings one by one, as if he were back home.

“Little Bai’s here again? Hang on, I’ll grab you some water.”

“What happened this time?”

“I saw Captain Li nearby. Want me to call him over?”

Such chatter went on and on, endless.

When they sat down to take his statement, the young officer looked at him and racked his brain. “How many times has it been at our station? Let me think… Forty-ninth, maybe?”

Yu Bai corrected him. “Fiftieth. I was here a few days ago too—you weren’t around.”

And that was just at this one station.

Though Yu Bai wasn’t eager to admit it, for a man with such a colorful life, he was probably the one who had given the most statements in all of Skystar City.

And never once for a crime of his own.

The young officer chuckled and began the questioning, while his partner deftly opened a computer file and started clacking away at the keyboard.

“Even though we’re all on friendly terms, we still have to follow procedure,” he said routinely. “Name of the person being questioned?”

Yu Bai was about to give his standard reply when he noticed Xie Wufang pause mid-crunch on the chips and glance his way.

Right—in this time loop, he hadn’t introduced himself yet.

So, for once, he said it straight-faced. “Yu Bai. The Yu from ‘melancholy,’ the Bai from ‘white.'”

The two officers—one handling the questions, the other the records—both burst out laughing. “No need to get that detailed. We could type it with our eyes closed…”

While they were distracted by their amusement, Yu Bai turned his head and whispered to Xie Wufang beside him, “Do you hate white?”

The man froze at the question. Surprise and unease flooded his gray-blue eyes, as if his secret had been laid bare.

Just like when Yu Bai had once asked if he was human.

But perhaps with something more this time.

After a moment’s hesitation, he shook his head silently.

A denial that carried zero conviction.

Yu Bai didn’t press further. With a light chuckle, he turned back and answered the young officer’s next routine question.

In that unusually lively summer afternoon, amid the faint scent of tomatoes, he couldn’t help but feel that his understanding of this non-human neighbor had deepened just a little more.

He didn’t need to eat, possessed a photographic memory, learned and comprehended at terrifying speeds, wielded unfathomable powers—almost like an omnipotent god.

And yet, at the same time, he couldn’t lie to save his life.