Sunlight streamed gently through the window, softening the sharp, sculpture-like jawline of the man across from him amid the oil-painting scenery. A sudden breeze lifted his slightly curly, deep black hair, just enough to veil the turbulent lake within those heterochromatic eyes.
In that instant, Yu Bai failed to catch the emotion flickering through them.
Xie Wufang’s way of offering comfort was a bit too blunt, but it was surprisingly effective.
He couldn’t help recalling that loop where, upon realizing he wasn’t simply traveling back in time but trapped in the past, he had stormed into the complex full of fury. He confronted Xie Wufang, who had been about to step into the elevator, demanding that the man send him back.
The tall man, looking utterly bewildered, had halted in his tracks. His first reaction was a hesitant question: “Are you angry?”
Before Yu Bai could grow even angrier at that, the entirely innocent Xie Wufang from that timeline had clumsily tried to soothe this near-stranger he had only met once.
That day’s Xie Wufang had said, “Sorry, please don’t be angry.”
This moment’s Xie Wufang said, “Don’t worry. You’ll return to that world.”
Yu Bai thought to himself that the guy’s comforting lines had improved a bit.
In any case, he did feel genuinely consoled right now.
The anxiety gnawing at him strangely settled.
“Yeah, I will,” Yu Bai replied, playing along to bolster his own confidence. “We’ll find a way to fix this.”
As he spoke, he reached for the scattered black stones on the Go board, gathering them one by one into the chess jar.
His painful yet enjoyable journey into learning Go had reached its end. More pressing matters awaited.
“I wonder where Uncle Zhang wandered off to… I plan to ask him again about any regrets he might have.”
Yu Bai pondered aloud. “Compared to yesterday afternoon when we first met, we’re on better terms now. Maybe I’ll get a different answer.”
He was certain Zhang Yunjiang wouldn’t repeat that wish for world peace.
For one thing, Yu Bai couldn’t make it happen.
For another, he still couldn’t.
…He might even charge headlong in the opposite direction.
After all, the entire world now teetered on the brink of explosion or annihilation.
If worst came to worst, he’d trot out his fabricated tale of a virtual grandfather again, hoping it might open the old man’s heart.
Muttering to himself, Yu Bai couldn’t suppress a chuckle.
Sorry, it was a gravely serious and terrifying situation, but for some reason, he just felt like laughing, rendering him utterly unable to stay solemn.
Cool black Go stones clicked crisply as his warm fingertips lifted them gently into the chess jar.
An ordinary human racked his brains for a way to save the world, his words rambling on, the corners of his mouth curving up, his eyes shining brightly.
The man sitting across from him watched quietly, saying nothing, as if swallowing words he had meant to speak.
Only when Yu Bai, focused on tidying the Go set, sensed something off did he glance sideways toward the figure at the other end of the board.
Xie Wufang, who usually mimicked his movements, wasn’t joining him in sorting the black-and-white pieces. He simply sat there in silence.
The white Go stones, placed one by one earlier by those elegant hands, still rested on the board. Their lustrous sheen gleamed like stars scattered across a deep, velvety night sky.
Why isn’t he cleaning up?
Surprised, Yu Bai asked, “Do you want to keep playing Go?”
He ventured a guess at Xie Wufang’s thoughts. “Once I’m done talking with Uncle Zhang, I could ask him to play with you. He’d love that.”
But Xie Wufang promptly refused. “No need.”
He paused, then added, “I’m going back to my room.”
…Huh?!
The words slipped out of Yu Bai’s mouth before he could stop them. “Are you going to your room to sleep?”
Only after asking did he remember that Xie Wufang didn’t need sleep.
Startled by his own question, Yu Bai had momentarily forgotten.
This deity who always shadowed him rarely had moments like this, where he planned to do something alone.
What was he going to do in his room?
Write in his diary at the desk? Watch TV? Or something else?
Yu Bai was about to ask again when Xie Wufang’s calm voice replied.
“Maybe.”
Yu Bai was even more surprised.
After trying watermelon and developing a taste for sweetness—despite his divine nature so at odds with human habits—was this god now planning to experience sleep too?
After all, eating and sleeping were the two things every human had to do.
Lost and astonished, Yu Bai reminded him on instinct. “Then remember to close the window. Sleeping during the day might be noisier than at night, with sounds from outside.”
Xie Wufang nodded lightly. “Alright.”
Then Yu Bai watched as the black-haired, blue-eyed man rose from the cushion and left the chess room. His tall figure gradually vanished behind the pale wooden sliding door.
Yu Bai sat there, stunned, for a long moment.
It wasn’t even evening—why choose this time to learn about sleeping?
…Though humans did take naps.
He hadn’t picked a completely wrong time.
Under the midday sun, Yu Bai yawned inexplicably, suddenly feeling like napping himself.
He shook his head to dispel the drowsiness induced by the warm light, then gathered Xie Wufang’s white stones into another chess jar. With that, he prepared to leave the chess room too.
No time for sleep now—he still needed to find Zhang…
“Little Doctor Yu!”
Speak of the devil and he shall appear. Moments after Xie Wufang left, Zhang Yunjiang appeared at the chess room door, calling out softly.
The old man glanced at the now-vanished silhouette of the Go teacher in the distance, then asked Yu Bai anxiously, “Why did he leave? Is he mad at you?”
“…Huh?” Yu Bai blinked in confusion. “Why would he be mad at me?”
“You were spacing out during the game and got caught!”
Zhang Yunjiang fretted for the bewildered young man. “Teacher Xie even said you didn’t like Go, but he’d taught so earnestly before, probably thinking you loved it… Did you two fight? Why did he leave alone like that!”
Only then did Yu Bai realize what the old man meant.
He was about to explain when an idea struck. Pretending to be shocked, he asked Zhang Yunjiang, “Uncle Zhang, how did you know what we were saying?”
“Weren’t you out for a walk earlier?”
“…”
Zhang Yunjiang’s tense expression froze. “Ah? Well, I was just… passing by…”
Seeing the usually poetic and refined old man stammering with shifty eyes, Yu Bai couldn’t help laughing.
“Don’t worry, we didn’t fight. He just went back to his room for a nap.”
He explained earnestly to the old man. “But I am stopping Go lessons, so you can’t eavesdrop on his teaching anymore. Sorry about that.”
The old man blinked in surprise, then reflexively replied, “What do you have to apologize for? We should be the ones saying sorry! Eavesdropping outside was rude…”
Zhang Yunjiang hesitated, then thanked the young man before him sincerely. “We only got to hear such great lessons because you wanted to learn. We owe you for that.”
“Those moves Teacher Xie explained earlier will keep me pondering for ages. I’m already thrilled—thank you truly.”
“Thanks to your interest in Go before, even if you don’t continue, just this encounter is a blessing.”
As he thanked him, he casually mentioned something from further back. “It was lucky you two were strolling in the park and got roped in by that fool Old Yuan.”
“What a stroke of fate! Without Old Yuan’s antics, he wouldn’t have hidden away for his epiphany, and I wouldn’t have been this happy these past couple days.”
The old man spoke from the heart, his deep crow’s feet crinkling with genuine joy.
At the same time, he noticed Yu Bai by the Go table seeming to pause, a flicker of complex, hard-to-read emotions shimmering in those clearer-than-average eyes.
“Uncle Zhang.” The young man with warm-toned hair spoke up suddenly, asking softly, “Do you have any regrets?”
The old man was taken aback. “Regrets?”
“Things that are really important to you but you haven’t achieved yet.” He emphasized, “…Besides world peace.”
Only then did Zhang Yunjiang understand.
Little Doctor Yu had asked about his wishes yesterday.
For some reason, these two mysterious young men, brought together by a Go puzzle, were unusually curious—one about “friends,” the other about “wishes.”
Perhaps he was too old to grasp what youngsters were thinking.
But just as he had with Xie Wufang’s question earlier, Zhang Yunjiang pondered the matter seriously, without prying into the reason.
Regrets.
He had lived a full seventy years. Along that long road, regrets were countless—some etched deep in his heart, others faded quietly before he could let go.
Life was too long, with too many days, so one walked on, accumulating regrets, then forgetting them along the way.
Little Doctor Yu’s question probably sought his life’s greatest regret.
In truth, this was the first time Zhang Yunjiang had heard such a question from someone of the younger generation.
Though it caught him off guard, the words felt deeply soothing all the same.
His own blood-related grandchildren had never once asked about his wishes or regrets.
Perhaps he truly did resemble the late grandfather of Little Doctor Yu.
Only then could he experience this care that rightfully belonged to another old man.
Stolen Go lessons, and stolen affection.
In the plain yet elegant Chess Room, the silver-haired old man gradually lost himself in thought. A sigh flickered in his aged eyes, but the young man nearby did not disturb him. He waited quietly, his fair and radiant face touched by the bloom of youth.
From the open lattice door drifted the faint sounds of commotion from another part of the courtyard.
There was the loud bark of a dog—silly and spirited—the clear, childish laughter of a little girl, and the old-mannered voice of another child.
Of the three who had been listening in from outside earlier, only Zhang Yunjiang had lingered nearby. He couldn’t stop worrying about the two young people and feared they might not get along.
Yuan Yuxing had indeed chased after the Corgi, and He Xi had felt too embarrassed to keep peeking. She decided to join him in pursuing the little dog instead.
Yu Bai instinctively glanced toward the source of the hazy noises from inside the Chess Room. The old man looked in the same direction alongside him.
A serene hallway and lush trees blocked their view, so they couldn’t see the two children or the little dog. All that was visible was the clear, eternal sunlight stretching endlessly between heaven and earth.
The sun shone gold, and the distant lively sounds rang golden too.
The old man spoke in a daze. “That little girl has real talent for Go. Little Hang does too.”
“I truly hope they’ll want to keep studying it.”
As Zhang Yunjiang spoke, he recalled the message on the Watermelon Gift Note and murmured under his breath, “…Once Old Yuan gets back, I’ll finally know what he truly comprehended.”
With that thought, he pulled himself back from the memories. He fixed his gaze on the young man before him—a chance encounter, yet closer than his own grandchildren—and answered the question with utmost sincerity.
“So, to be honest, I have no regrets anymore. Everything feels just right as it is now.”
“If I had to name one,” the kindly old man said with a gentle smile, “it would be that I hope days like these can last a little longer.”
It was an answer Yu Bai had never anticipated.
“Days like these?”
He voiced the confusion in his heart.
What sort of days did he mean?
Basking in the warm midday sun, the old man smiled and nodded. “Days just like today.”
The young man seated at the Go board felt lost by the response. Meanwhile, having answered about his regrets, the old man turned his thoughts to wishes. After a moment’s hesitation, he asked carefully, “Little Doctor Yu, are you busy with work? Do you have time to stay here a few more days?”
“I don’t have to work right now.” Yu Bai was even more bewildered but accepted the invitation on instinct. “A few more days? Well… that’s not out of the question.”
“Really?”
Zhang Yunjiang had only been testing the waters, but the near-certain reply filled him with delight. “That’s wonderful!”
Yu Bai realized too late what he’d said. He didn’t want to commit fully and quickly added, “…But I need to check with the others first. Is that okay?”
Zhang Yunjiang in this timespace didn’t seem to have any final wishes.
That left Yu Bai unsure whether he was on the right track. His thoughts grew a touch disordered.
“Of course!” Zhang Yunjiang assured him. “If you have things to attend to, by all means go. It won’t be any trouble.”
“But if you’re willing to stay a few more days, I’d be especially delighted.”
At last, the old man explained his invitation a bit sheepishly, his eye-corner wrinkles hiding a hint of bashfulness.
“It’s just that my home… hasn’t felt this lively in a very long time.”
In the distance, the dog’s barks intertwined with peals of laughter.
After parting ways with Zhang Yunjiang, Yu Bai wandered alone through the verdant, expansive courtyard. A lingering fog of confusion clouded his mind.
Subconsciously, he wanted to find someone to talk over the situation.
His first thought was Yan Jing.
But Yan Jing was probably still at the restaurant, stuffing his face.
…
Never mind. He doubted that guy would offer anything useful.
Yu Bai passed through an ancient, elegant hallway. Before he knew it, he was back near the suite where he’d stayed the night before.
Tree shadows swayed around him, dancing across the glass windows draped in thin gauze curtains. Through them, he vaguely glimpsed the rumpled bedding and pillows strewn across the large central bed, lending the afternoon an air of leisurely indulgence.
This was the room where he had slept last night.
A little farther on, just past half a wall, lay Xie Wufang’s room—and the window where he had once sat at the desk, reading.
Yu Bai hesitated for a second before continuing onward.
He casually scanned the surroundings, feigning nonchalance.
No one was passing by at the moment.
He simply wanted someone to discuss things with, but he wasn’t sure if Xie Wufang was awake. He had no desire to barge in and disturb him.
It was absolutely not because he wanted to sneak a peek at the Non-Human possibly napping inside.
…Though whether he could even see anything was debatable.
With that in mind, Yu Bai steeled himself. He drew a deep breath and peered toward the window beside him.
As if it had heard him, the glass pane—which had been half-open before—was now fully shut. It blocked out the occasional courtyard noises, though the heavy blackout curtains remained undrawn. Only the gauze fluttered lightly.
Yu Bai couldn’t help a small smile. He’d forgotten to tell Xie Wufang to draw the curtains before sleeping, and sure enough, he hadn’t.
Which made the observation all the easier.
Beyond the transparent, spotless glass and the gauzy veil like drifting clouds stood the desk with its Go tutorial, the tastefully appointed furnishings, and the identical large bed at the center. The entire room lay bare before him.
From outside the window, as his gaze drifted silently across the scene, the curiosity swirling in those light-brown eyes suddenly gave way to profound surprise.
The bed, which looked soft and inviting, remained impeccably neat and untouched—not a single wrinkle to suggest it had been slept in. The man who ought to have been napping there was nowhere to be seen.
It wasn’t just the bed. No figure lurked anywhere else in the room. Nothing but the meticulously arranged furniture filled the space, leaving it emptily desolate and somewhat forlorn.
Xie Wufang was not in his room.
