Chapter 1: Main Text: The Old Man and Li Yijie

Main Text: The Old Man and Li Yijie

The mountains are green like lacquer, the stream clear as spring water, the stones stand like a forest, the pavilion spreads like wings!

Outside the pavilion, the parasol trees cast a dense shade that feels richly fragrant; on the mountain peak, the lacking sun scatters golden light, warm and hazy.

Inside the pavilion, the Old Man sits on the ground, like a rooted parasol tree, serene and peaceful; his fluttering white hair reaches the ground and drapes over his shoulders, like flowing clouds;

Two white eyebrows sway slightly in the wind, like willows over a lake; beneath them, the pair of eyes are the size of rice beans, with barely any whites, and when they meet,

their gazes ripple like faint waves in the deep night, possessing an indescribable charm.

A fish‑tail at the corner of his eyes arranges the sense of age perfectly; his plain robe and grass‑woven shoes complement the earth splendidly!

At a glance, he is like a tranquil autumn leaf, as if the three feet around him wield a transcendent power that dispels clamor!

Li Yijie also remains silent, his gaze fixed on the board. His water‑like large eyes reveal a steadiness of mountains and the liveliness of wind,

adding an alluring hue to his plain complexion. His black hair falls like a waterfall, matched with a garment whiter than snow,

like a wild lily silently blooming in the mountains: solitary and serene, tranquil and fragrant.

The wind rustles the parasol trees, and the lingering light dances. In such a pleasant moment, the Old Man and Li Yijie love to leisurely play a round.

They sit and watch the black and white pieces leap across the squares, silently savoring life's myriad twists and turns.

At such moments, it's also fitting to exchange poems, talk about melodies, chant bright verses—born this way, truly delightful!

The Old Man prefers melancholy of autumn and sorrow of spring, feeling the times with a wounded heart.

Li Yijie, however, enjoys bold talk, often spouting the soaring ambitions of his youth.

Time creates a generation gap, and that gap makes their dialogue turn flushed and heated, within which the deep childlike affection appears.

Such childlike deep affection often leads them to pinch, blame, and hurt each other. This kind of feeling is indeed a rare treasure among mortals!

A youthful boy full of vigor always loves to be decisive, striking first. He pinches a white piece, his mind brimming with bold thoughts, and as the piece falls, he declares:

The green mountains are merciless, thus they feign verdancy.

This stream is intentional, babbling as in bygone days.

One imagines that the windows in the dream should still be there.

Yet unable to resist, sobering from wine, the dream shatters, and the soul returns to the mortal world!

A mournful melody, matching the parasol trees and the setting sun, plus Li Yijie's youthful throat trembling with sincere melancholy,

slowly yet steadily assaults the Old Man's ears. From ear to heart, from heart to eyes, making tears hard to hold back.

The Old Man hears this, his white eyebrows trembling again in the wind, and he wonders: Xiao Jiez, this feeling and intention, once awakened, once broken,

like poetry or lyrics turning into a tune, mournful strains sprout, sweeping away the previous vigor. Could it be that today's sun has set in the east?

He can't help but glance at the sun on the mountain peak, then thinks: If we continue the mournful tune, can it be even more sorrowful? If we raise a lofty tone, we lose the chance and it won't fit the scene.

Fine, marvelous, indeed Xiao Jiez is clever, truly grown up; why not toss the question back.

Thus, the Old Man, with a flash of inspiration, says:

"Drink a pot, replace wine with tea—can it vent the discontent in my chest?"

"Compose a melody, let mountains and rivers flow, perhaps deep clouds can hide a kindred spirit?"

"Ask a question: how many past stories linger in the emerald palace and carved towers?"

"Sigh: the lying waves and long bridge, have they also weathered countless storms?"

When the four questions emerged—ma ba ne a— they resembled a four‑character divine incantation, armor‑clad and banner‑bearing, surging grandly toward Xiao Jiez.

The tones reverberated everywhere, the mournful tune turned hostile, leaving Li Yijie bewildered, not knowing what to do. Mixed with the Old Man's melting, enchanting voice,

making Li Yijie's eyes instantly watery.

Holding back sorrow, he shakes his head, and Li Yijie sighs: Is it that spicy ginger has grown old, or that old ginger has become spicy?

Having never eaten scallions, ginger, or garlic as a child, I was already too foolish to tell the difference. It seems spicy ginger is troublesome, and old spicy ginger is even more to be avoided.

Otherwise, trying to eat ginger fails, and one gets burned all over. This is the scorching lesson, the scorching lesson!

His mind shifts again, and Li Yijie thinks: A fine man merely dabbling in ink and poetry is nothing; a true gentleman reveals his genuine heroism on the chessboard, so...

With that thought, Li Yijie immediately, as if nothing, smiles: "Old Man, do you find that sunset beautiful? Or look at the parasol trees outside the pavilion,

When they were young they were small, now they stand tall like a canopy. The west wind blows, the parasol leaves rustle—how beautiful! It's not that I, Xiao Jiez, lack a poem to match, but the scenery before us,

should be appreciated first. Shall we then quietly finish this round?"

Hearing this, the Old Man, smiling, runs his fingers through his white eyebrows, squints and says: "Indeed, twelve long years are like a dream in the mountains.

I wonder whether the hearts beyond the mountain have changed over a thousand years. I still recall the first time I picked you up in the snow, your little face was as delicate as a blown crystal,

now, like that parasol tree, tall as a canopy, worthy of admiration!"

Open contempt with the mouth, hidden contempt in the heart, implied contempt without action—most lethal!

When cultured people vent their grievances, they carry a touch of elegance; Li Yijie couldn't help but be a bit petty, yet helplessly fixed his gaze on the board.

It would be fine not to focus, but once he does, he unwittingly falls into the Old Man's mental trap.

After fewer than two moves, he becomes indecisive.

In the past, whenever this happened, the Old Man would calmly recite his mantra:

Life is always like this: few moves are placed calmly, many are indecisive. Yet what determines fate is not the thrill of placing a piece,

but the deep thought when moving the pieces. Because of that contemplation, there is no regret. Playing chess is to find a method that leaves one without regret.

If you win, win with exuberant vigor; if you lose, lose with heartfelt acceptance!

But today seems a bit unusual; clearly Li Yijie was silenced by the rebuke, while the Old Man remains mute.

The Old Man, even after just placing a piece, made no further move. He silently watches him, his white eyebrows no longer swaying with the wind,

only lingering silently at the corners of his mouth.

Their pupils glow faintly, as if trying to devour Li Yijie into their eyes, making him appear slightly embarrassed!

Li Yijie pretends to cover his eyes with his hand, thinking: "Well, you old man, you're too mischievous, you mischievous old Daoist."

You wouldn't be taking me for your old wife, Miao Xiao Jiu, would you, daring to tease this young master so persistently; watch how I break your "demon technique".

Just as the thought finished and I was about to enact "revenge", the old man suddenly twitched, as if regaining his senses.

It startled Li Yijie, causing cold sweat to bead on his forehead.

Who would have thought the old man, his face unflushed and ears unred, spoke seriously: "Little Jiejie, aren't you the one who loves asking me about cultivation methods and Qi practice?"

Now I will tell you. The Great Dao has no path, it collapses into Qi. Qi divides into two poles, Yin Qi and Yang Qi. Yin Qi is the life essence of the Dao,

it manifests as a character; one character is a Dao. Where the character resides, the heavenly gift resides. Yang Qi is the Dao's mysterious power, roaming the four corners of the universe.

All things bear Yin and embrace Yang to be born; where Qi exists, spirit exists; where Qi perishes, spirit perishes. The character formed by Yin Qi is also called the True Destiny Heavenly Character.

Everyone must awaken their own True Destiny Heavenly Character, thereby absorbing more Yang Qi and attaining the myriad wondrous things of the Dao,

reaching that incomprehensible realm. Very well, now the old man will test you: I ask of all the characters in the world, who can dominate rise and fall?