Final Round

He has finally done it.

A thousand years of planning and sacrificing has paid off.

But it came too late. So late he feels no joy from it.

After a hundred years of whittling away, his shattered mind has been reduced to a single fragment.

Deep in the bowels of the earth, the unending corrosion and fraying of the ascended consciousness by the Originium buried within the Feranmut's body has just begun.

Now that everything has been settled, that singular stone in reserve awakes from dreamless sleep.

He is still It, but It is no longer tied to the remaining proxies, and thus It is merely him now.

A stone left over after the mending of the Heavens. A lonely stone, with nobody to accompany it in this land.

The man stoops down to pick up a branch, writing out a character on the leaf-strewn ground.

The characters 'Ji' and 'Ye', 'luck' and 'page', come together to form 'Jie'.

Not even disappointment remains in the man's exhausted eyes. He knew this would be futile, but he cannot stop himself from trying wherever he goes.

The woodcutter pauses his work, as if he has been infected by the sorrow emanating from the dispirited man.

The woodcutter wrests himself free from the sad memories, but he finds the stranger gone without a trace.

At the same time, a black stone suffused with a cold light has at some point made its way into his basket, not that he noticed.

The pawnbroker doubtfully takes the object the woodcutter had wrapped in a white cloth.

With the sudden change in his temperament, the woodcutter snatches the coin back from the pawnbroker's hands.

The pawnbroker's imposing facade is completely overwhelmed. He has no choice but to pay what he feels is an exhorbitant price.

The woodcutter pockets what to him is a princely sum, and leaves the store. However, the moment he steps outside, everything he just said and did becomes impossible to remember clearly.

Nobody had noticed that when he took the money, a black weiqi stone fell out of his pocket, surreptitiously rolling into the shop's storeroom.

Business has not been good at the pawnshop today. The sun is falling down, but the pawnbroker had long since closed up shop and left.

Those who truly know how to bring a great windfall to the land, he has no means to meet, nor does he wish to.

At this point, the only thing on his mind is how he is drowing under the exhaustion emanating from his feet.

The realm of man... is still so, so dull.

The weiqi stone does not know what sort of torments his self within the Tomb is undergoing.

Between lonely torture and endlessly wandering the realm alone, even one as skilled at weighing benefits such as he cannot decide which is the lesser evil.

He spots an ancient weiqi set in the corner of the room.

Since ancient times, there have never been many who were eloquent in the art of weiqi in Yumen, and fewer still were the boards and stones they played with. With but a glance, he recognizes it as his own simple set.

He once played upon it with his sibling.

He wishes he could place the entirety of the set into his bag and take it with him, but it would be too cumbersome.

And so, Wang's body fades once more, and the battered, splintered weiqi case gains another black stone.

Surrounded by fellow stones, he absent-mindedly returns to the days when everything still felt new to him.

Surround three sides to corner it; take the last breath to capture it. At first, he saw these states as no more than differences in position of the stones on the board.

But as Jie explained things to him, he began to see a form of struggle within that stone, clinging onto its single liberty.

From the simple capture and escape comes the jump, the knight's move, the diagonal, the extension...

...A few days later, Jie, with her basic knowledge of the game, was no longer his opponent.

Weiqi began as an amusement he found some interest in, but it gradually became the way he thought, and then it became the sand table upon which he plotted the excise of Sui...

At that moment, the stone is in the pocket of some court mandarin's scion, deriding himself for his own conduct.

Flattering the rich while sneering at the poor. Climbing the social ladder through bowing and scraping. People often say how much they despise such behavior, but they hate the fact that they have no opportunity to pull themselves up this way.

It is not like he has not done it himself. He was simply more precise, more ruthless.

He did so not for fame and fortune, but for his family to be able to survive, somewhere above the ever-shifting tides of the imperial court, somewhere below the shadow of the great threat known as Sui.

But... is that not all over now?

Using such ploys over and over did not make him hate himself. No weiqi player feels guilt over winning through guile, after all.

But when those calculations and trades a hundred moves deep lose their meaning in the eyes of the player, when a fierce battle in the corner becomes a simple mess of black and white stones...

He becomes more and more bored with it all. He is no machine. He cannot perform meaningless repetition forever.

As he wanders back to this place where he and Jie had their fateful meeting, he finds himself less and less able to make a decision.

Should he do as he planned before Sui's elimination, and use a single stone to search for some trace of her, whether it take decades, centuries, or millennia, and see her return for himself...

Or should he abandon this worn-out, exhausted, lonely stone once he is sure everything is on the right track, then withdraw from the land and say farewell to all things past and present?

Once more, it is night.

He has taken on a more nocturnal lifestyle lately.

In the day, he is an ignorant, unknowing stone, avoiding the eyes of anyone who might threaten him and his family.

When the sun has set and the moons have risen, he steps through the door to the Sky Mirror Pavilion with great difficulty, gathering all things to do with his family, especially Jie.

The Sui Regulator has been reorganized, the focus of their work shifting from Sui to affairs involving other Feranmuts.

The names of his family members no longer pop up all over government documents. Instead, their deeds have become inspiration for some rather embellished articles in the tabloids about mysterious incidents.

Everything points to one thing: Sui's proxies are no longer being monitored by Yan.

There is still nothing about her.

Everyone from the commoners to the dukes, and even those who had not forgotten her, have never once penned a letter or file that mentioned her name.

And so, clinging to this evidence that cannot be considered evidence, he stubbornly insists on life in the shadows, unwilling to place any trust in the mortal realm.

'Leftover pages'.

The mere mention of these words rouses the unusual weiqi stone from his exhausted slumber.

Moreover, she has the Writing Knife. He could never be mistaken about that. He is well aware of this woman and what her situation is.

The stone tumbles from an unremarkable bookshelf in the Sky Mirror Pavilion...

...Falling into the pocket of someone here to return books...

...Who then moves to the book return point, where the air conditioning is blowing at full blast. From there, the stone flings itself out of the taken-off jacket onto the floor...

...Where it is noticed by an on-duty administrator, who brings it to the desk where Ch'en Hui-chieh and the librarian are chatting...

...Where it is left there, forgotten by the muddle-headed administrator.

Ch'en has not noticed the lone stone on the corner of the desk.

This is the perfect opportunity, he thinks. If he is going to influence her mind, then it would be best to do it right now, when nobody else is around... But she does have that knife on her.

In the end, the stone decides to fall into the pocket of the librarian, rather than Ch'en Hui-chieh's.

Nevertheless...

It is not just Jun they talk about. The stone hears about all of his family.

He hears of Chongyue solemnly accompanying the creation, how depressed Ling was in her drunkenness without drink, the tears in Yu's eyes as he stares at the wall alone.

Shu brought along Fāng, and in the cracked soil of the flowerpots, they planted orchids and medicinal herbs. Ji and Nian refurbished the worn-out parts of the room.

Yi comes and goes, telling the creation about the history of every ornament and decoration in the room. Dusk would hold onto the creation's hand and hesitate for a long while, before beginning to write...

The two do not speak any further, climbing up to the top floor in silence. The stone's mind sways along to the open jacket's flapping, to and fro, to and fro.

The librarian takes off her jacket, draping it over her arm as she leaves with Ch'en. Neither of them notice the weiqi stone tumbling out of the jacket's pocket.

The door locks shut with a clack.

Wang near-unconsciously sweeps his eyes across the room's furnishings.

It has been nearly two hundred years since he last set foot in this cramped office.

He recognizes many old-fashioned, even ancient customs in the decor, alongside several ingenious ideas Jie had while decorating the room. There are also the traces his elder brother and younger siblings left during their visits.

As well as...

Perhaps the confused creation smelled the scent of stone and wood emanating from her guest, and within those scents, a dearness that has not been felt in many, many years.

And so she emerges from the depths of the room, wobbling as she gets up close to Wang. Her round eyes stare at him, as if waiting for him to stroke her head like the rest of their family.

The haggard weiqi player bites down on his lip, closes his eyes, and stretches out his hand, gently stroking her all-too-fragile forehead.

Why... are you so determined to do this?

No.

You have always been... unwavering. Far more than I have ever been.

Jie...

If the time comes, and I am the one doomed to die, then take good care of Chongyue and the rest of our brothers and sisters.

The exhausted weiqi player slowly strokes the creation's forehead.

In her eyes, he sees many things. Astonishment, reminiscence, resentment, regret, blame, relief...

And at the end of the end, when all those emotions have passed, he sees only the joy of reunion.

He bows his head deep.

He shuts his eyes, trying to divine a response from her, but he hears only the sound of the wind blowing at the scraps of curtain.

He opens his eyes to look at her again. He did not expect to see an aggrieved tear drip down her cheek. Its flow speaks for her when she cannot, hampered by her muteness.

Forgive me for my lateness.

Now that everything has been settled, it is not two proxies that stand here. Only a lonely black stone, and a confused geist.

The stone looks at the geist, stunned, then looks about the room.

But there is nobody else there.

Was that her?

Was that It?

Or was that... myself?

The stone does not know. The stone does not know.

The creation, overwhelmed by the flood of memories, slowly sinks into slumber. As for the small, black stone, he quietly lies by her side.

The shroud of night falls. The creation has not yet awakened. Only then does the little weiqi stone roll towards the window, and through a hole to let fresh air in, he drops down, away from the top of the Sky Mirror Pavilion.

He is still as difficult as ever. Even though he is determined to sacrifice no more stones, he still allows the churning river of fate to push him onwards...

Until the time it pushes him towards a reunion with those waiting for him.