By sunset, the carriage arrived at the entrance of a secluded private residence encircled by lush flowers and trees.
This private residence, rented by San Bao together with the carriage, stood deep in the mountain wilderness and was used to accommodate passing travelers.
Fu Jingxuan stepped down from the carriage and stood beyond the waist-high fence, peering into the courtyard. Inside, the furnishings were old yet meticulously kept; there was a stone table, two ancient trees, and a thatched cottage, quietly secluded in the mountains. Directly ahead of the courtyard flowed a gentle river, while at the rear rose a towering mountain. At its summit stood an unnamed ancient temple, where the whisper of pines mingled with the calm of meditation. From there, one could watch the sun set over the river; a perfect retreat for those seeking quiet and serenity.
They would spend the night here. Inside the house stood a bed, a couch, and a square dining table with four corners, laid out with several sets of communal bowls and chopsticks; any personal belongings could be set aside neatly. San Bao moved the luggage from the carriage and settled the items one by one into the room, then ran to the kitchen in the courtyard to light the fire and cook. The mute uncle had already prepared the meals for today and tomorrow; including a simple pot of white porridge and a few warmed sugar cakes, enough to serve as a meal.
Upon getting off the carriage this time, Fu Jingxuan did not push Fang Zesheng but instead handed him over to the coachman who had accompanied them while he wandered idly about the courtyard. After a while, the coachman pushed Fang Zesheng in from outside the yard before politely handing the wheelchair back to him and scurried off to the kitchen to help.
Fang Zesheng stayed silent the entire time; his gaze cast slightly downward, and his fingers still damp as though he had just washed them.
Second Master Fu said with a beaming smile, “I told you I would help you, but you simply wouldn’t allow it.”
Fang Zesheng’s cheeks flushed crimson, and he let out a feigned cough, pretending as though nothing had happened.
It was still early; the sun was not yet fully set. Fu Jingxuan entered the room, took out the chessboard he had prepared that morning, and set it on the wooden couch beside the paper window. He looked at Fang Zesheng and asked, “Want to play a round?”
After being teased by him the entire way, Fang Zesheng finally had a chance to recover a bit of his dignity. He arched an eyebrow and let Fu Jingxuan help him onto the couch. He picked up a chess piece while leaning against the window.
Taking the black pieces and making the first move, Fu Jingxuan claimed the advantage from the outset.
When it came to skill on the board, Fu Jingxuan was a bit less experienced than Fang Zesheng. As a child, he preferred movement over stillness; the only times he could sit down peacefully were when Fang Zesheng accompanied him. Otherwise, he certainly wouldn’t stay still and would end the match hastily after a few rounds. He believed he had long since grasped Fang Zesheng’s playing style. He appeared unhurried and mild, yet in truth concealing moves at every turn. Their matches often ended in a draw, though sometimes Fu Jingxuan could win by a small margin, perhaps half a point or a full point, which would keep him cheerful for a long time.
This match, however, deviated from the usual routine. From the instant the white pieces touched the board; every move was lethal, driving the black pieces into a relentless retreat without a hint of mercy.
As the end of the match approached and the next move would determine the winner, Fu Jingxuan sat cross-legged before the chess table. He deliberated for a long time with a piece gripped between two fingers before finally placing it in an empty spot.
The corners of Fang Zesheng’s mouth curled slightly. Just as he was about to place a piece to end the match, Fu Jingxuan hurriedly grabbed his wrist and, like a sore loser, snatched back the piece he had just played.
……
“This move doesn’t count, let me think about it some more.”
This “thinking” lasted for nearly the time it takes an incense stick to burn.
The meal San Bao brought had long since gone cold; seeing that the two weren’t eating, he swapped it for a few pieces of filling sweet cakes and lit a small lamp.
While Fu Jingxuan was immersed in the match, Fang Zesheng watched him quietly for a long time. Beyond the wavering lamplight, there lingered a trace of unrestrained fondness and indulgent affection that could not be concealed in his gaze.
Deep into the night, with insects chirping in the dark, Fu Jingxuan still had not resolved the endgame.
Fang Zesheng flicked the lamp wick. “Sleep first, solve it tomorrow.”
Fu Jingxuan asked, “Is it a stalemate?”
Fang Zesheng said, “There is one way to break it.”
Fu Jingxuan had intended to ask where, but after a brief pause, he shook his head, set the chess piece down on the table, then helped him to the bedside and undressed him for sleep.
At dawn the next day, Second Master Fu ran back to the chessboard in his inner robes to ponder bitterly once more.
Commissioned by the mute uncle, San Bao peeked at his young master while helping Fang Zesheng dress and wash. He whispered, “Head Merchant is truly impressive; I’ve never seen the Young Master struggle like this over a game of chess.”
Fang Zesheng’s expression was gentle. He set aside his rinsing cup, thanked San Bao, then ate a little porridge at the table before heading into the courtyard with two blank scrolls in hand.
From the courtyard, one could see Second Master Fu lounging by the window, his hair in disarray, at times grinning with delight and at others frowning and shaking his head. Fang Zesheng unrolled a scroll and sat at the stone table before carefully sketching the scenery framed by the window.
After a long while, the painting was complete, and Fu Jingxuan had at last resolved the chess endgame. He let out a loud shout to Fang Zesheng from the window. Fang Zesheng looked up, and as those arched brows and bright eyes were reflected against the mountain scenery, his heart stirred. He lifted his brush and inscribed two lines on the scroll:
Autumn duckweed drifts in the emerald waters by the mountain courtyard.
Falling shadows before the window stir heartfelt thoughts.
Once finished, he quickly covered it with a blank sheet, sketched a few orchid strokes, and pretended to be absorbed in adding details.
On the other side, Fu Jingxuan hastily got off the couch to wash and dress. After bolting down a few bites of food, he carried the chessboard outside. Seeing Fang Zesheng sketching orchids, he looked around and pressed the board down right on top of the drawing. “Is there even half a blade of orchid in this courtyard?”
Fang Zesheng said, “There is in my heart.”
Second Master Fu glanced at him. “Why let your heart grow grass? Better to grow a ‘me’ instead, so I’ll cross your mind more often.”
Fang Zesheng said nothing, quietly concealing the scroll that depicted Second Master Fu. He pinched a chess piece, obstructing the very move Fu Jingxuan had just discovered.
The original plan had been to walk through the mountains today, but unexpectedly, this game of chess lasted until evening before the winner was decided. In the end, Fu Jingxuan won by half a point. He let out a long stretch and pushed Fang Zesheng toward the riverbank for a stroll with a beaming smile.
The river had no name, flowing endlessly from south to north. By its bank stood a fishing lantern casting light over a fish basket, fishing line, a few straw rain capes, and several soft cushions. Fu Jingxuan told San Bao to bring two cloaks; he and Fang Zesheng each draped one over their shoulders and sat together on the ground while quietly fishing by the river.
He did not like fishing.
Whether it was fishing or playing chess, neither were things Fu Jingxuan had enjoyed as a child.
He liked running and jumping; whenever he came to the mountains, he would invariably roam the hills and fields looking for novelties, unable to stay idle for a single moment.
Yet now, he had sat still like this for an entire day, going nowhere at all.
Fang Zesheng heard him yawn in boredom and lowered his eyes, letting his gaze settle on his own legs.
Fu Jingxuan asked while sitting shoulder to shoulder with him, “What are you thinking about?”
Fang Zesheng hesitated for a long moment, the pad of his thumb tracing along the bamboo fishing rod. It took a long time before he said, “I don’t know… if it is right or wrong to selfishly keep you by my side like this.”
Fu Jingxuan said, “You think it’s wrong?”
With a distant look in his eyes, Fang Zesheng nodded.
“Why?”
“You are so wonderful; you ought to have a whole person accompany you. Whether it is to pick pomegranates with you or to go on autumn treks with you.”
Fu Jingxuan laughed and said, “Really?”
Fang Zesheng frowned, saying as if with great reluctance, “It would be better for you.”
Fu Jingxuan didn’t take the bait. Instead, he asked, “Do you know what the kindest yet most selfish phrase in this world is?”
Fang Zesheng remained silent.
Fu Jingxuan looked at him. “It is ‘For your own good.'”
“Most people who say this believe themselves to be acting out of kindness, yet they don’t realize it is actually selfishness through and through.”
“What does it truly mean to be ‘for me’? To stand from my perspective, from my position, and to desire what I desire; that is truly being for me.”
“Instead of starting from your own heart, you decide that whatever you think is right, I must follow. How can yielding so completely to your nature be called for my sake? Clearly, it’s done for your own good.”
Fang Zesheng met his gaze. “Then what counts as truly being for your own good?”
Second Master Fu arched an eyebrow and smiled. “Naturally, it is following my heart and considering my wishes.”
Fang Zesheng was silent for a long while. “What… are your heart’s wishes?”
“Don’t you know what my heart wishes?” Fu Jingxuan poked his own chest and said solemnly once more, “With you, all is well. Without you, all is not well.”
The float on the river’s surface suddenly bobbed as if a fish had bitten the bait.
Fang Zesheng did not look at the fish. Instead, with eyes reflecting the bright moon, he tilted Fu Jingxuan’s chin up and kissed the corner of his mouth.
One kiss did not feel like enough.
After a brief pause, he boldly pried open his lips and pulled him into an embrace.
