Flower Boat, Two Handsome Men Young and Old

Ninth Royal Uncle paused briefly at the doorway, signaling to the people inside that he had arrived.

Rounding the screen, Ninth Royal Uncle saw a middle-aged man kneeling on the carpet. Beside him was a Go board; in his left hand he held a white piece, in his right a black one. The board was a tangle of black and white stones—clearly, he was playing against himself.

The middle-aged man wore a loose robe with a wide open collar, revealing bronzed skin. Judging by his exposed chest, he was clearly a trained martial artist.

Yet his every gesture was full of scholarly charm and ease; combined with his mature, refined features, no one would doubt he was a master of letters and culture.

This man truly deserved his fame as a figure who shook the Nine Provinces twenty years ago, Ninth Royal Uncle silently praised, while also feeling a sense of pity for him.

Back then, his reputation was no less than William Wang Jinling’s, and his talent matched William’s as well. But his fate was nowhere near as fortunate.

William Wang Jinling became the powerful head of the Wang Clan, while this man, after marrying a princess and falling under royal suspicion, lost his career and faded into obscurity.

It was thought that after suffering such humiliation, he would grow bitter and waste his days. Yet, unexpectedly, this man remained dazzling and distinguished, undaunted by reality—he simply hid his brilliance and lived freely on his own.

Such bearing, such breadth of mind, such talent—what a pity indeed.

Ninth Royal Uncle stood quietly where he was, not disturbing the man’s game, nor feeling slighted. After all, it was he who didn’t wish to interrupt, not the other man being rude.

The man seemed not to notice Ninth Royal Uncle’s presence, playing his game alone. Only after half an hour, when victory was decided, did he stop and casually toss his pieces onto the table.

"Rumor has it that Eastlyn's Ninth Royal Uncle is arrogant and dismissive of others. Seeing you today, I realize the rumors are unreliable." The man stood up, showing his respect for Ninth Royal Uncle.

People are strange sometimes: Ninth Royal Uncle was willing to wait half an hour for this man, and this proud, rebellious man would rise to greet Ninth Royal Uncle in return.

Faced with the man’s gentle teasing, Ninth Royal Uncle replied, "You’re mistaken, Master Ian Reed. I am indeed as arrogant and rude as the rumors say."

Ninth Royal Uncle nodded in return and took a seat to the side. "But you, Master Ian Reed, are not as the rumors say. Today, I finally understand what kind of grace the famed 'number-one handsome gentleman' of the Nine Provinces once had."

"The past is best left unmentioned. Every era has its own talents, each shining for a few centuries. Nowadays, hardly anyone in the Nine Provinces remembers me." Master Ian Reed’s gaze grew distant, as if recalling the wild days of his youth.

The end of a hero, the fading of beauty. For Master Ian Reed, those glorious days were long gone—he dared not think of them, and even if he tried, he couldn’t remember much.

"An old steed still dreams of distant journeys, Master Ian Reed—there’s no need to belittle yourself." To a man of such talent, twenty years of silence was far too long.

"It’s not self-deprecation, it’s simply that I’m old now—this world belongs to you young people." The white at his temples was a constant reminder of age. Though he hadn’t wasted his life, he’d accomplished nothing of note.

He felt his life had been lived in vain—a waste of the gifts heaven had given him.

Though only in his forties, Master Ian Reed already had white in his hair—proof that he wasn’t as carefree as he seemed. After all, a prodigy who rose to fame so young must have been proud, yet was forced to marry a princess and lost all hope of advancement.

It wasn’t just marrying the princess—before she even entered his home, she had already betrayed him, and that betrayal lasted over twenty years. Worst of all, the man his wife preferred was inferior to him in every way.

Such a life, such a fate, was a devastating blow to someone as proud and ambitious as Master Ian Reed.

Ninth Royal Uncle admired the man before him, so he was willing to reach out: "Master Ian Reed, you’ve been gathering strength all these years—like sharpening a sword for a decade, waiting for the moment to claim the crown."

Hardship is a grindstone. It was precisely because this man had weathered so many storms that he had today’s steadiness and restraint. Had he succeeded young, he might have grown arrogant and reckless, lacking the bearing he showed now.

It was this present version of Master Ian Reed that Nolan admired. Ninth Royal Uncle calmly met his gaze, waiting for Ian’s reply—but after a long pause, Ian still hadn’t decided. Instead, he pointed to the Go board: "Ninth Royal Uncle, care to play a game with me?"

Ninth Royal Uncle didn’t hesitate, resetting the board. "Please."

A good chess player is a good strategist; Ninth Royal Uncle knew Master Ian Reed wanted to test his skill at the game.

Ninth Royal Uncle picked up a white stone, signaling for Master Ian Reed to take black and make the first move.

"You have guts." To let him go first, knowing his current state, was bold indeed. Ian couldn’t help but admire Ninth Royal Uncle.

"Victory and defeat are routine in warfare; losing to you is no shame." Though Ninth Royal Uncle said this, he was especially focused while playing, considering every move carefully—nothing like his casual games with the Emperor.

It was chess that made Master Ian Reed famous. At fifteen, he played against Westlyn’s national champion for a whole day and night, winning ten games in a row—each by a single stone. His name resounded throughout Westlyn, and he remains undefeated to this day.

After years of honing his skills, Ian was surely even more formidable now. It would be hard for Ninth Royal Uncle to beat him, so Ian appreciated Nolan’s courage in taking black and facing the challenge head-on.

In recent years, he hadn’t found anyone willing to play against him, which was why he’d taken to playing left hand versus right.

Confident as he was in his chess, Ian was a man of integrity. No matter who sat across from him, skilled or not, he gave his all—respecting both his opponent and the spirit of the game.

By Ian’s estimate, he should have won within a hundred moves, but now, after a hundred and twenty-six, victory was nowhere in sight. In fact, he was starting to fall behind.

"Interesting." For Ian, life was like seeking defeat in loneliness—he longed to lose just once in chess. Sensing that Ninth Royal Uncle might actually beat him, his blood surged; he felt young again.

The more Ian played, the more energized he became; meanwhile, Ninth Royal Uncle grew increasingly relaxed. After a hundred and fifty moves, Nolan was making his plays almost without thinking, looking certain of victory—and in fact...

When Ninth Royal Uncle placed the last stone on the board, the result was clear: "Master Ian Reed, you’ve lost!"

Those seven words were the first time Ian had ever heard them in his life.

"Ha ha ha, wonderful! I’ve lost, and I’m glad for it. Your chess style is unpredictable, cunning, and full of surprises. I’m impressed. But if we play again, I’m sure I can beat you." Ian laughed heartily, seemingly happier than if he’d won.

Ninth Royal Uncle only smiled in reply. Ian was right—if they played again, Nolan would surely lose. But that didn’t change the fact that he’d won this match...

Today, by beating this man, he had also cut off Tianlei of Westlyn’s last escape route!

Author’s note: I really love this scene. It’s full of feeling—whether their conversation or the atmosphere of two handsome men playing chess on a Flower Boat. I think I captured their style perfectly. So much love!