I remember it was in the afternoon of the day before the Mid-Autumn Festival. I was on the balcony reading, Father was playing go with the city’s champion player in the living room – they played game after game, from early midday until late in the evening. Throughout the afternoon, over and over again, I heard them begin a game and then finish, and then start a new one. The conversation between them was brief, but I could hear that Father was winning. Occasionally I stepped into the living room to refresh their drinks. Father’s expression was always calm and level-headed as he sipped at a bowl of tea or smoked a cigarette – he was happy, joyful even. The champion, on the other hand, smoked not one cigarette, nor did he drink a single bowl of tea. Both his eyes were glued to the go board, and there was hatred and vengeance upon his face. He was unyielding, determined to struggle on. He gritted his teeth, occasionally reaching out his hand to grasp a piece, and then suspending that hand in the air, the stone wedged between his fingers. It didn’t seem like a go stone at all, but rather a bomb. Should he put it down or not? And where? These were the questions he struggled with. He was cautious, careful, hesitant. His consternation was obvious, his face contorted, resolute; his entire body seemed to be dedicated to making the correct move. In contrast, Father was a picture of serenity, peacefulness, calmness; it looked as though his train of thought had already left the game in front of him – already flown off into the ether. Later I heard them conclude the match, and then the champion spoke. ‘How about another game?’

I heard my father’s reply; it was firm and peremptory. ‘It’s like this – if we play another game, I’ll have to start with a handicap and I don’t like playing that kind of game.’

This was how Father rudely ended all possibilities of a rematch, by saying that he had no desire to inflict defeat upon yet another opponent. Needless to say, his form of curt refusal drove people mad. What’s more, in this case, the opponent was a revered champion go player. As he left he fired off these words at me: ‘Your father is a go prodigy, there’s no one he cannot defeat.’

That’s what the champion said. There’s no one Father cannot defeat.

As you can imagine, there was no one in this city who could challenge my father.

No one!

Absolutely no one!