Volume One, Chapter 20: The Liubo Board

I was truly fortunate to have escaped with my life.

Yet my troubles were far from over.

After boarding the ship, I learned it was an ocean-going vessel on a special mission and would not return for some time. I patiently explained our ordeal to the person in charge, urging him to look after the others and keep watch over the two criminals. Then I collapsed in my room, unconscious.

Later, I heard that Master Qi revealed his formidable identity and personally negotiated with the captain, managing to secure the earliest possible return voyage.

By the time the rescuers removed my life-sustaining IV and carried me off the ship to the hospital for proper treatment, I had been unconscious for nearly a full day and night.

“Shi Guangyin, are you willing to wake up now?”

When I finally opened my eyes, Master Qi was smiling, waving his phone in front of me.

Sure enough, there were 99+ missed calls.

My pupils trembled. I dared not look closely at the phone. The next morning, I summoned my courage and made a video call from my hospital bed to offer a self-critique.

Fortunately, after hearing about our underwater adventure, the superiors were not only fascinated but also highly praised our hands-on investigative spirit. Given the special circumstances, the organization generously granted me a few days of medical leave and supplemented our special task force accordingly.

I was not naive; I knew this was to save face for someone. For the next few days, I never let Master Qi out of my sight. Eating, sleeping, medical checkups—I found all sorts of excuses to keep him nearby, turning him into a human talisman. Wherever I went, his presence gave me peace of mind.

“You don’t have to be so dramatic,” Master Qi said, probably unaccustomed to my clinginess and somewhat startled.

The next moment, I released his hand.

I was home now. No more need for a shield.

Nearly a week had passed, yet the special task force office remained unchanged—still deserted. But as I looked around, the computer hadn’t locked itself, a small pot of brewed flower tea was still warm, and the printer was still on.

Clearly, the staff had been suddenly called away somewhere, busy with unknown matters.

“Master, while everyone else is gone, let’s sort through the case.” I twisted two keys together, unlocking a metal safe and pulling out three photographs.

These three photos were the first things I had instructed my colleagues to lock away securely after coming ashore.

The first showed a Number 1 Spring and Autumn bronze you (a type of wine vessel) from the museum; experts had authenticated it as undoubtedly a burial artifact from the Spring and Autumn period.

The second was a Number 2 Tang dynasty imitation bronze you from an auction; its authenticity was uncertain, but since it was also salvaged from a suspected underwater tomb, it was likely a Tang-era replica.

The third was a Tang sancai (tri-colored glazed) tower-shaped chess container. I had already sent the two small towers for dating. The bird pattern on the chess container was identical to that on the bronze you, though otherwise unremarkable.

“Tell me, among all these priceless Tang sancai artifacts from the tomb, why would the spy focus solely on these two most inconspicuous chess containers if it was merely for profit?”

Master Qi lit a cigarette, lowering his head. “Look carefully, then speak—why are the birds on this chess container exactly the same as those on the bronze you? One large, one small; one black, one white—two birds.”

I looked down at the photos. Smoke curled in the office. The two birds on the chess container seemed to rise in mist, as if about to spread their wings and fly away.

“...Master, please put out your cigarette.” I frowned in displeasure. “I’ve been on oxygen these days at the hospital; my lungs aren’t feeling well.”

“You’re a child, always finding fault with your teacher instead of learning properly.” Master Qi muttered but promptly stubbed out the cigarette and, in a belated gesture, opened a window.

“Crow and egret,” I finally guessed. “That’s the ‘wu-lu’.”

“‘Wu-lu’ was an elegant ancient name for the game of Go,” Master Qi explained. “Since Go pieces are black and white, the ancients likened black stones to crows and white stones to egrets, calling them ‘wu-lu’.”

But I was growing more confused. “This is clearly a liubo (six-bo) chess container. Why would it feature birds symbolizing Go?”

“If your writing is good, others will praise your eloquence,” Master Qi said. “Whether that eloquence lies in poetry, novels, or prose doesn’t matter. The same goes for games. These two birds represent not only Go but broadly all ‘board’ games. If you were the tomb owner, obsessed with gambling at liubo, you wouldn’t paint the chaotic gambling scene on your artifacts—it would be too vulgar.”

I nodded; it made sense.

“But Go and the term ‘wu-lu’ are from the Tang and Song dynasties, or perhaps only after the Song. How could such bird patterns appear on a Spring and Autumn period bronze you?”

“Don’t rush,” Master Qi said leisurely, pointing at the first photo. “Let’s consider each individually. For example, the two birds on the Number 1 bronze you may simply be decorative, without deeper meaning.”

I finally understood. Three photos, three artifacts, three patterns—each entirely independent. They must be analyzed separately!

Though all depict two birds—the crow and the egret.

On the Number 1 bronze you, they are merely ornamental.

On the Tang sancai chess container, they signify its connection to board games.

On the Number 2 Tang imitation bronze you, the bird pattern is a decorative mimic symbolizing a relation to board games!

“Good, you reasoned that out well. Your logic is solid,” Master Qi nodded. “Now tell me, the Number 2 Tang imitation bronze you should be a wine vessel. What connection could it possibly have to board games?”

I stared intently at the second and third photos.

Then I examined the original of the first photo.

“They’re different. The finial buds atop the Number 1 and Number 2 you are not the same,” I murmured. “But from the side, the finial bud on the Number 2 you resembles the pointed top of the Tang sancai tower chess container.”

They all had the overall shape of a flattened square pyramid. But upon closer inspection, the patterns on top twisted like winding roads, like an intricate network of waterways. Every groove, dot, and curved path intersected and converged at the center.

It truly resembled a circuit board.

“This is a game board.” I closed my eyes and sighed deeply.

Thankfully, my spatial imagination was strong; otherwise, I could never have understood that sliding the pyramid’s apex vertically downward to the base plane would ultimately reveal a square game board—a liubo board.

Master Qi looked at me admiringly, about to speak, when my phone vibrated in my pocket. I opened it to find a message from the internal network email.

It was from the evidence collection team, forwarding me a video.

The file name showed the recording time: tonight. From the background, it seemed to be inside an appraisal agency.

In the video, an expert wearing white gloves carefully manipulated the pointed top of the Tang sancai tower chess container. Just as I wondered what he intended, I was astonished to see the apex move.

I struggled to describe the movement. The tower-shaped container was like a mechanical box. Pressing a button caused it to spin wildly. Perhaps the internal mechanism was rusty, so the rotation was jerky—stuttering like a transforming robot.

It perfectly matched my imagination.

Eventually, the pyramid-shaped top flattened out like a pancake, becoming a smooth liubo board.

Only then did I notice a colleague’s comment below the video:

“Leader, the finial bud on the Number 2 Tang imitation bronze you is exactly the same as this tower top. It probably has a similar mechanism!”

“Leader, you should take a look as well,” I said, making room for Master Qi.

He stared at the screen for a long while, then relaxed.

“I thought the spy only wanted a bronze you and a chess container. Now it seems he wanted a game board and a chess container.”

With the board and the container,

what else is needed to play?

Master Qi and I exchanged a glance and said in unison:

“Chess pieces.”