Chapter 742: Eto Miyabi

The moment Go came up, the story between Uesugi Sadanori and Uesugi Muneyuki began!

Someone with a personality like Big Brother's is indeed very interested in Go, and his skill is at an amateur level; just now Sōrō gave him a two-stone handicap, and he actually beat Sōrō, who is notorious in Germany!

Uesugi Muneyuki burst into laughter upon hearing this, thinking to himself that Sōrō was just giving him face.

"Nie Sheng has grown old too." Uesugi Sadanori looked at Nie Sheng's graying hair in the distance and couldn't help but sigh: "Back when he contended for supremacy with Otake Hideo, Takeda Hideki, and the others, it feels like just yesterday."

"Brother, how old are you this year?" Uesugi Muneyuki couldn't help but retort after hearing this: "You make it sound like you witnessed it yourself." "I really did witness it, watched the TV broadcast; I was just elementary school age at the time, you were still crawling on the ground." Uesugi Sadanori said with a dark face: "And you even snatched my fried chicken drumsticks to eat."

"Pfft!" Ikeda Erena beside them couldn't help but laugh.

……." Uesugi Muneyuki was rendered speechless by his brother's teasing, so he could only turn his gaze back to the Go venue.

"What a pity, Nie Sheng never won a single world championship in his life, so this Kisei title lacks a bit of flavor." Uesugi Sadanori sighed somewhat.

Uesugi Muneyuki nodded; his brother was right, Nie Sheng never won a single world championship in his life, so someone once said his Kisei title was awarded too early.

But this actually isn't Nie Sheng's fault, because during the eighties when his playing strength was at its peak, there simply were no world tournaments!

At that time, Japanese Go stood alone at the top worldwide, Korean Go had just started, and Japanese Go reached its peak in the seventies and early eighties, so the Japan-Germany Go confrontation matches at the time could be considered symbolic showdowns of the highest level; Nie Sheng alone cut down more than a dozen Japanese super-first-class professionals one after another, which already proved his strength as the number one of his generation, and the Kisei title was well-deserved.

But by the time international tournaments appeared later, Nie Sheng was already past his peak; his final peak was the 1st Ing Cup in '89, when he led Cao Xunxuan 2-1 and was in great form, but the Koreans played a little trick then, demanding a change of venue and a delay in the match time, and the organizers of the first world tournament indeed had design flaws, resulting in a delay of several months during which Nie Sheng's form faded, plus he caught a cold carelessly when going to Singapore, and ended up losing 2-3 in a comeback — a classic Korean drama plot.

This defeat also dealt a heavy blow to Nie Sheng both physically and mentally, and afterward his peak was gone, reducing him to second-rate level.

Ma Xiaochun took over afterward, but Ma's dominance was far inferior; although he was Germany's first world tournament champion, he was completely no match for Lee Chang-ho, with a career win rate of only 20% against him in dozens of matches, not even as high as Niko's finals win rate. And Japanese Go was also past its peak; in reality, those active in the 90s and even 00s were still that batch from the eighties, and with Chang Gong almost single-handedly overturning all of Japanese Go in the 11th Confrontation Match, Japanese Go declined irreversibly from then on, so he is also considered the representative figure of the second generation.

By the 00s, the Japan Fujitsu Cup even reached a point where hardly any Japanese players could be found for the finals, finally forced to arbitrarily designate a few Japanese players to participate, sparking huge controversy, and thus was discontinued.

The so-called "national fortune rises, Go fortune rises"… is largely like this, because learning Go requires a bit of money and leisure, so a nationwide Go craze in ancient times represented a flourishing dynasty and ordinary people having leisure after being fed and clothed, but in modern times, the new Japanese are addicted to various video games, so naturally fewer people learn Go.

Moreover, Go has a threshold; ordinary people can understand at a glance that a goal in soccer or basketball scores points, and whoever has the higher score wins, but for sports with a certain viewing threshold like baseball and Go, new entrants will gradually decrease.

"Baseball is actually very simple; you watch this entry video and you'll completely understand how to play."

"You're right, but why is this entry video over an hour long?"

Uesugi Muneyuki watched for a while; he had been planning to leave for lunch, and just at that moment, a voice stopped him.

"Oh my, isn't this Uesugi Chief? You really came!"

It was NHK's female anchor Eto Miyabi!

She jogged over quickly.

Her figure was tall and graceful, her steps light; in an outfit completely different from her morning news attire, she became a quiet yet stunning footnote in this cultural match.

Her top was a charcoal-gray cashmere sweater, with a moderately open boat-neck design revealing delicate collarbones. The fabric was soft, fitting her shoulders without being tight, perfectly capturing the composure and ease of a mature woman.

The sleeves were casually rolled up two folds, revealing the slender, bony wrists — a habit since her idol days, now become an unspoken personal signature.

The real eye-catcher was the bottom.

She actually paired the sweater with a woven brocade mosaic-patterned horse-face skirt. The skirt was navy-based, spreading down from the waistband, the front and back panels flat and crisp, the hem rippling slightly as she walked.

The ukiyo-e patterns on the skirt were no ordinary motifs — wave crests outlined in gold thread, surging with restrained billows on an indigo velvet-textured ground; scattered between the wave crests were Edo-period hishigaki and seigaiha, traditional patterns meeting modern tailoring here, unexpectedly giving birth to a harmony transcending time. "Hokusai's 'Thirty-Six Views of Mount Fuji' — 'The Great Wave off Kanagawa'." Uesugi Sadanori said, his gaze sweeping over the waves on her skirt hem, nodding slightly, as if seeing an unspoken cultural salute.

But Uesugi Muneyuki was looking elsewhere.

Below the skirt hem were long legs evenly wrapped in thick black pantyhose.

Those pantyhose were the most proper choice for early spring's lingering chill — 80D matte texture, the color not pure jet black but faintly revealing a layer of smoke-gray tone, like flowing Edo ink, steady with a subtle shimmer flowing within.

The delicate, soft thick black pantyhose clung finely to every line of the legs, from the rounded curve of the knees, to the subtle concavity at the back of the calves, to the suddenly tapering slenderness at the ankles — every detail vividly visible, yet stripped of all frivolity by that layer of matte wrapping, leaving only the proper, self-aware beauty of a mature woman's body.

The pair of embroidered black high heels on her feet were another stunning detail.

The shoes were modified pointed stilettos, eight-centimeter heels, supporting her slightly forward-leaning posture as she concentrated on watching the game. The uppers were jet-black satin, not flashy like ordinary patent leather, but quiet and restrained, faintly glowing with a warm silk luster.

On the left upper, a slanting plum blossom was embroidered, petals wound with silver thread over gold, the stamen tiny coral beads like rice grains, stitching so dense the thread path was almost invisible.

As she walked briskly over, that plum blossom appeared and disappeared at the skirt hem with each rise and fall of her toes.

"Uesugi Chief, Uesugi Chief, can we talk, about the 'Hand of God' TV drama adaptation?" Eto Miyabi asked excitedly. Uesugi Muneyuki fell silent for a moment, then suddenly nodded.

After all, she studied Ming history.

At the same moment, Tokyo — Kasumigaseki — Sakuradamon.

Metropolitan Police Department Headquarters; Criminal Investigation Department.

At the corridor end, the Chief Inspector's office door was tightly shut.

Okochi Haruki, Police Superintendent, Metropolitan Police Department Criminal Investigation Department Chief Inspector.

He had an extremely pale face, sparse features; expressionless, he resembled an uncarved stone Buddha, only his glossy slicked-back hair shining brightly. Right now he sat in a leather chair, a freshly delivered complaint letter spread before him.

Complainant: Suzuki Kenichi, 47, partner at an accounting firm in Toshima, Tokyo.

Complaint Target: Bunkyo Ward Ōtaku Police Station Criminal Investigation Division Chief; Tanaka Naoki, Police Inspector.

Complaint Reason: Suspected embezzlement of a huge sum of cash (13 million yen) from the deceased's bereaved family.

The complaint materials included a copy of a will. It was a handwritten will, certified by a notary office, neat handwriting, dated last July. Article 4, Clause 2 clearly stated:

"In the drawer of the Buddhist shrine in my bedroom, there is 13 million yen in cash, for my grandson Yoshihito's study abroad in England. This money is savings of many years; please ask my nephew Kenichi to keep it and supervise its use."

Okochi Haruki finished reading the last line, gently set the document down, and lifted his eyelids.

Standing before him was a young Patrol Section Chief from the General Affairs Division, who had been tense-faced when delivering the materials and now didn't even dare breathe. "The family's current attitude?" Okochi asked.

"Very… intense." The Patrol Section Chief chose his words carefully: "Mr. Suzuki Kenichi lost control of his emotions at the station, claiming that if the Metropolitan Police Department doesn't investigate thoroughly, he will submit the materials to Bunshun Weekly and report to the Tokyo District Public Prosecutors Office Special Investigation Department. He accused the big station…"

He stopped.

"Speak."

"He accused Ōtaku Station of 'officials protecting officials' and 'condoning internal crimes'. And…" The Patrol Section Chief swallowed, "He named names, saying Inspector Tanaka is a 'corrupt officer who abuses authority and commits theft while on guard duty'."

Okochi Haruki didn't speak immediately.

His fingers lightly stroked the edge of the complaint letter, as if measuring the width of some invisible boundary.

"Inspector Tanaka Naoki," he spoke, tone even: "Non-career track, just promoted this year."

This wasn't a question, it was confirmation.

"Yes, exactly thirty years of service this year. Previously served at Ōtaku Station as Patrol Section Chief, Assistant Police Inspector, and just this month assumed the post of Criminal Investigation Division Chief." Okochi nodded.

His mind flashed with no emotion—anger, sympathy, suspicion—none of them. Only the calm judgment of a professional bureaucrat facing a "problem case": scope of impact, responsibility allocation, handling process, risk control.

The silence lasted fifteen seconds.

"Dispatch two personnel." He said: "Ōtaku Police Station Criminal Investigation Division, evidence sealing. On-site personnel, individual interviews. Tanaka Inspector himself..." He paused: "No contact for now, observe behavior."

The Investigation Division Chief departed after receiving orders.

The office returned to silence once again.