“It’s not just that, Uncle Yifu . . .” There was a hint of desperation creeping into Li’s voice now. His trump card had just been dismissed. How could he tell his uncle that it was embarrassing? That his colleagues found it a source of great amusement? Besides, he didn’t want Old Yifu taking issue with Chen. It would be like a parent berating their child’s teacher. It could create bad feeling and rebound on Li. “I mean, I can take care of Chen. It’s just . . .”

Old Yifu moved a Soldier across the river, slapping the piece down on Li’s side. “Just what?”

“Just . . . well, I’m too busy to get involved with that sort of thing just now,” Li said lamely.

“Don’t worry,” Old Yifu said. “I’ll make sure the old boy doesn’t get in your way. With three murders on your plate, you’ll need all the free-flowing ch’i you can get.”

Li gave up. He wasn’t going to win without giving offence, and he would die before he offended his uncle. Still, sometimes it could be very difficult. He made a careless move, and Old Yifu leapt on his Soldier like a crow on carrion. “For heaven’s sake, Li Yan, you will never beat me at chess if you don’t pay attention!”

“How can I pay attention when I’ve got three murders on my mind?”

“Chess frees the mind and cleanses the intellect. You will think all the more clearly for it.” His eyes were fixed on the board. He looked up. “Come on. Your move.”

Li sighed and examined the board. Old Yifu said, “I got a letter from your father today. Your sister is pregnant.” He paused before adding, ominously, “Again.”