Chapter Thirty: The Young Marquis of Qi!

Show mercy? Deliberately lose the game?
There wasn’t even a window, let alone a door, for retreat. A true man cannot show mercy on the battlefield, nor can he do so on the chessboard.
In the third game, Li Zhao took the initiative to play black and opened with the Great Avalanche, one of the three most complex and inscrutable joseki in Go. His offensive was like a snowstorm cascading down a mountain—fierce and unstoppable!
Not only was his opening aggressive, but his moves were unpredictable: first, the “Three Stars Auspicious,” then the “Five Tigers Enter the Mountain,” and still, the opponent refused to concede. Very well, then—out came the “Eight Dragons Ascend to Heaven,” a five-star difficulty kill move, also famous in the Classic of Mysterious Go!
Meanwhile, Cui Zongzhi, clutching his white stones, struggled valiantly to defend. Yet black’s onslaught was too violent, sweeping in from every direction. To defend the front left the rear weak; to guard the left opened up the right; to defend everywhere was to be stretched thin everywhere… White was suppressed, unable to strike back at all.
To make a long story short, after just half an hour, black slaughtered the giant dragon, and white conceded defeat!
A “giant dragon” refers to a large, unsettled group of stones in Go, usually numbering at least a dozen or more, which can be threatened or attacked. “Slaying the dragon,” as the name suggests, means killing off the opponent’s massive group and securing a decisive victory—but this is rare in serious play.
First, because slaying the dragon is exceedingly difficult, requiring exceptional skill.
Second, because it is so humiliating for the loser—between friends, even if the opportunity arises, one often holds back out of courtesy, so as not to make the defeat unbearably shameful.
My young master, why didn’t you heed my warning? Not only did you win again, but you slew a giant dragon, leaving no face at all for the Young Marquis of Qi… This is a disaster, a complete disaster. Steward Sun was sweating as if in a downpour, his legs trembling ceaselessly. If not for Bai Mo’s support, he might have collapsed on the spot.
The rest of the onlookers shared the same opinion: three losses, a giant dragon slain—surely the Young Marquis of Qi would be furious with humiliation.
But on the other side, Li Zhao showed no fear; instead, he burst out laughing in delight. As the saying goes: “To see a man’s calligraphy is to see his character; to watch his Go is to know his heart.”
In other words, one’s handwriting reveals his nature, whether good or bad, kind or wicked. A man’s style of play reveals his inner character, whether upright or treacherous, loyal or deceitful.
Cui Zongzhi, though born to nobility and naturally proud, played Go with an open and forthright style—proving himself a man of high moral character, a true gentleman. With such a person, flattery and sycophancy are useless; they would only breed his contempt.
On the contrary, openness and sincerity win his favor and respect!
And facts proved Li Zhao’s judgment entirely correct!
“Haha! Young sir, your skill in Go is unparalleled. I am completely convinced of my defeat! When encountering a master, how could I let the opportunity slip by? I would like to host a banquet for you at this inn—please honor me with your presence.”
Having lost three games, instead of flying into a rage, Cui Zongzhi rose with a hearty laugh, straightened his attire, and saluted Li Zhao with the utmost respect. Even his address changed from “young friend” to “young sir.”
Losing a game is nothing.
But to lose one’s character—that is a true and utter defeat!
“If the Young Marquis invites me, how could I refuse? Please!”
“Please!”
Li Zhao, naturally, did not decline. He returned the salute, then strode shoulder to shoulder with Cui Zongzhi through the inn’s doors.
Steward Sun and Bai Mo exchanged glances and hastened to follow, while the onlookers first stared in stunned silence, then erupted into heated discussion—
“Whose young master is this? Not only is he strikingly handsome and dignified, but his Go is exquisite. In time, he may become a national master, rivaling even Wang Jixin, the Imperial Go Instructor.”
“I don’t recognize him—he looks unfamiliar. But one of his attendants is Steward Sun from Deshengchang Distillery. If we follow the trail, we’ll surely uncover this youth’s identity.”
“There’s no time to lose—let’s investigate at once, and seek an opportunity to befriend him.”
The crowd outside the inn had all come hoping to curry favor with the Young Marquis of Qi, but none had succeeded.

Now that Li Zhao was seated as an honored guest, if one could befriend him and gain an introduction, wouldn’t that be a way to connect with the Young Marquis?
Even if they couldn’t reach the Marquis, befriending such a promising young talent would still be a great boon.
…
Returning to Li Zhao and Cui Zongzhi, after they entered the Drunken Immortal Inn and settled—host and guest—in a fine chamber, the attendants swiftly served a lavish feast: camel’s foot stew, golden minced fish, roasted goose and duck, flowered rice cakes, and a whole roasted lamb… Each dish was a feast for the senses.
The attendants carried in a large jar of the famed “Five Clouds Wine,” a celebrated Western grape wine, bright as blood and considered a top vintage, rarely tasted by common folk.
There were also two exquisite eight-faceted gold cups, decorated with vines, birds, and blossoms.
“Young sir, may I offer you a cup?”
“Haha, a true man never declines a drink!”
“Excellent—pour the wine!”
An attendant filled the cups. Li Zhao raised his and drained it in one go, then pursed his lips, savoring the taste—and couldn’t help but frown slightly.
This Five Clouds Wine, it turned out, was also a fermented wine—impure, lacking in flavor, and with such a low alcohol content that it might not even reach ten degrees. It was more like a soft drink than wine.
Before his crossing, Li Zhao loved his drink, especially strong spirits of sixty or seventy degrees; this weak wine was really hard to get used to.
Meanwhile, Cui Zongzhi also drained his cup. Noticing Li Zhao’s strange expression, he asked, “Young sir, is the wine not to your taste?”
“Well… not at all,” thought Li Zhao, cursing himself—his unguarded gesture might cause a misunderstanding. When someone offers you a renowned vintage, how could you criticize the wine? That would be grossly impolite.
He wanted to explain, but didn’t know how; if Cui Zongzhi pressed with questions, how could he answer without revealing his secret of transmigration?
Pressed to the wall, his mind raced, and glancing at the wine cup in his hand, Li Zhao hit upon an idea!
“This grape wine is of course excellent,” he said, “but perhaps the cup has a small flaw.”
“These eight-faceted gold cups, decorated with vines and birds, were a gift from Prince Luyang to our Young Marquis, crafted by the imperial artisans. There are few like them in the world, and you dare call them flawed!”
A nearby attendant interjected angrily, though he also revealed something important: Cui Zongzhi had close ties with Prince Luyang—Li Jin—otherwise, he would never have received such exquisite cups. Prince Luyang was not only one of the Eight Immortal Drinkers but also the emperor’s own nephew, famed as the most handsome man in the imperial clan.
“Ha, be not mistaken,” Li Zhao replied smoothly. “These golden cups are certainly treasures, but treasures are not always suitable. As the ancient poem goes:
‘Grape wine in luminous cups at night,
The pipa urges us to drink on horseback,
Drunken, we lie upon the battlefield—do not laugh,
How many have returned from war since days of old?’
Grape wine is crimson as blood; if we men of ambition drink it from a luminous cup, the wine appears just like blood. To drink wine as if drinking blood—is that not truly heroic?”
With this borrowed wisdom from a famous martial arts novel, Li Zhao deftly sidestepped the issue—not bad, just not fitting. Who could find fault with that?
“Haha! All my life I have loved drinking and thought myself a connoisseur, but never considered the learning hidden in a simple wine cup. Your words today are enlightening indeed! Taking advantage of this chance, I must consult you further.”
Cui Zongzhi’s interest was piqued. He looked at Li Zhao with even greater admiration—not only was he a Go master, but an expert in wine as well. What perfect company!
“May I ask, young sir—grape wine should be served in luminous cups, but what of sorghum wine?”
“Sorghum wine is the oldest of brews. It was invented by Yi Di in the time of Yu the Great, who drank it and found it sweet. Therefore, to drink sorghum wine, one must use a bronze jue, to evoke the ancient spirit!”
“Well said! And for rice wine?”
“Haha! Rice wine, though delicious, is too mild and sweet. It should be drunk from a large bowl, to show true vigor!”
…

Jiao Sui asked about more than a dozen kinds of wine, and Li Zhao answered every question, earning constant nods of approval and growing admiration in Jiao Sui’s eyes.
“Haha! Truly, a conversation with you is worth ten years’ study. Who would have thought that, so young, you’d be so learned and talented? A true prodigy! And, judging by your features—broad forehead, square jaw, prominent brow, and lustrous countenance, with a hint of dragon and phoenix about you—and your surname Li… are you, perhaps, a scion of the imperial clan?”
Cui Zongzhi was used to dealing with the high and mighty, and his sharp eyes guessed at Li Zhao’s origins.
Li Zhao saw no reason to hide it and nodded, “The Young Marquis is indeed perceptive. I am, though undistinguished, the great-grandson of Prince Wu Xiao, third son of Emperor Taizong. Though a member of the imperial clan, I hold no title or office—little different from a commoner!”
“Oh! So young sir is a direct descendant of Prince Wu Xiao. My apologies for not realizing sooner.”
“You are too kind!”
With his identity revealed and all cards on the table, the two became even more intimate, drinking fine wine and chatting on.
Cui Zongzhi was not only a wine-lover but also a man of vast learning—versed in astronomy and geography, yin-yang and divination, Buddhist and Taoist scriptures, drama and craftsmanship. There was nothing he did not know, nothing he had not mastered!
Li Zhao, as a transmigrant, was even broader in knowledge. No matter the topic, he could speak fluently, often with surprising insight.
Thus, the more they talked, the more congenial and delighted they became, feeling as if they had met a kindred spirit late in life. Their forms of address grew more familiar as well.
Cui Zongzhi no longer called Li Zhao “young sir,” but by his childhood name: Jade Lad.
“Young sir” was a respectful title, but nothing matched the warmth of using one’s childhood name.
Likewise, Li Zhao stopped calling Cui Zongzhi “Young Marquis,” instead using his own catchy and memorable childhood name: Cat Slave.
Why would a dignified Young Marquis be called “Cat Slave”?
Simple—his parents loved cats, and on the day of his birth, the family’s mother cat gave birth to a litter of kittens. Thus, “Cat Slave” became his name—not particularly elegant, but not unpleasant either, and with a certain charm.
“Jade Lad!”
“Cat Slave!”
“Jade Lad!”
“Cat Slave!”
“Haha… Cheers!”