Night’s Nomenclature

Volume One.

The first chapter of the night: Sonata.

…

2022, autumn.

The drizzle of rain fell from the gray sky, lightly drenching the city streets.

It's autumn, and from time to time you can still see pedestrians without umbrellas hurriedly passing by with their hands on their heads.

In the narrow military-civilian alley, there was a boy of seventeen or eighteen years old, sitting opposite an old man under the awning next to the supermarket concession stand.

The whole world outside the awning is gray, and the ground has been turned light black by the rain. Only the ground under the awning remains a dry area, as if there is only this piece of pure land left in the whole world.

An old wooden chess board was placed in front of them, and above their heads was a red "Fuku-Lai Supermarket" sign.

"General," the young man Qingchen stood up after saying that, leaving the old man with thinning hair sitting blankly.

The young man Qingchen glanced at the other person and said calmly: "No need to struggle."

"I can still..." the old man said unwillingly: "We have only gone down to the thirteenth step..."

In his words, the old man felt a little embarrassed about the situation where he had lost his armor in thirteen steps.

Qingchen didn't explain anything. The murderous intention was revealed on the chessboard. It was the last moment of Tu Qiong Dagger's view.

The young man has a clean face and clear eyes. He is just sitting there wearing a simple school uniform, as if the world around him has been purified and transparent.

The old man threw the chess piece in his hand onto the chessboard, abandoning it and admitting defeat.

Qingchen walked into the counter of the nearby supermarket as if there was no one around, took 20 yuan from the change basket under the counter and put it into his pocket.

The old man cursed and looked at Qingchen: "I lose 20 yuan to you every day! I just won 20 yuan from Lao Li and Lao Zhang this morning, and now I lose it all to you!"

Qingchen pocketed the money, then sat back to the chessboard and began to review the game: "If they weren't willing to play chess with me, I wouldn't have to rely on you to win money. You need face, I need money, it's fair. Reasonable."

"You're sure of me, right?" The old man muttered: "The fortune teller said I can live to be seventy-eight, but I'm only fifty now. If I lose you 20 yuan every day, how much money will I have to lose? "

"But I also taught you how to play chess to win back face," Qingchen replied calmly: "In this way, you won't lose anything."

The old man muttered: "But what you have been teaching these two days are useless things."

Qingchen glanced at him: "Don't talk about yourself like that."

Old man: "???"

The old man rearranged the chessboard angrily, and then said eagerly: "Okay, okay, let's review the game."

At this moment, Qingchen suddenly lowered his head.

The time that had just passed seemed to be replayed in his mind.

The incoming cannons and the fierce soldiers from the Chu-He-Han realm echoed in his mind one by one.

More than these.

There was also an uncle who passed by them while playing chess, holding in his hand four sesame seed cakes that he had just bought. The freshly baked sesame seed cakes had some water vapor, and the transparent plastic bag was stained with a layer of white mist.

A little girl in a white skirt walked by holding an umbrella. There were two beautiful butterflies on the uppers of her little leather shoes.

Above the sky, the swaying rain fell on the alley, crystal clear.

At the end of the alley, bus No. 103 flashed past the entrance of the narrow alley, and a woman wearing a beige windbreaker rushed to the bus stop holding an umbrella.

The sound of footsteps, the sound of running water as the rainwater merges into the manhole cover on the roadside, these noisy sounds make the world feel extraordinarily silent.

Qingchen has never forgotten all this, although it is a little difficult to recall.

But difficulty doesn’t mean it’s impossible.

This weird memory is Qingchen's innate talent. It's like he randomly extracted an archive from the river of time, and then read the images in the magnetic strip of the archive.

Qingchen resisted the dizziness in his brain and picked up the pieces on the chessboard.

The old man suddenly stopped talking and stared at the chessboard with his eyes intently. The review after each game was also a stipulation of the gambling game.

Qingchen is responsible for teaching chess, and the old man learns chess after losing money.

This scene is a bit strange. Qingchen does not have the humility and shyness that a young person should have when facing an elder. Instead, he acts like a teacher.

The other party didn't think it was anything.

"The red square's cannon is two and five, the black's cannon is eight and five, the red horse is two and three, the black horse is eight and seven, the red rook is one and one, and the black rook is nine and eight..." Qingchen moved the chess pieces step by step.

The old man didn't even blink. It was a normal start, but he couldn't figure out why at the sixth step, he had clearly eaten the opponent's horse, but suddenly fell into decline.

"The essence of the Thirteen Moves of Abandoning the Horse lies in the sixth step of entering the rook and abandoning the horse. This is the trump card to tear apart the defense line," Qingchen said quietly: "I saw the chess game you played with the old man in Wangcheng Park the day before yesterday. Yes, he likes to start with a smooth move, so you have no problem hitting him with the Thirteen Moves of Abandoning Horses."

The old man opposite fell into deep thought, and then asked in a low voice: "Can you really beat him?"

"Learn the thirteen tricks of abandoning a horse that I will teach you within a week, and you will be able to regain your face," Qingchen said, "After all... what he did was not that good."

There was a hint of joy on the old man's face.

But he suddenly asked: "If I can beat him after learning chess for a week, how long will it take for me to learn chess to beat you?"

Under the awning, Qingchen began to think seriously: "Does the fortune teller say you can live to be seventy-eight... That's too late."

The old man's face froze: "If you stop saying a few words, I might live to be seventy-nine... Hey, you should be studying in the evening at this moment, looking for Shuyuan www.zhaｏｈｕｕｋａcom Why are you getting out of school so early today?"

He knew that Qingchen was a sophomore in high school and it was Tuesday, so the No. 13 Middle School two streets away should be studying in the evening at this time.

Qingchen thought for a moment and replied, "I'm waiting for someone."

"Waiting for someone?" The old man was stunned for a moment.

Qingchen stood up and looked at the drizzle outside the awning, his eyes drifting in the rain curtain.

The old man said: "Qingchen, you are so good at chess, why don't you go to the chess competition? Didn't you say you are short of money? You can get money even if you win the championship."

The young man Qingchen shook his head: "I just memorized a lot of chess records in my mind. It doesn't mean that I am a good chess player. Memory does not mean analytical ability. I can play well with you, but I will show my timidity when I meet a master. .My path is not here, and playing chess is only temporary."

"I remember everything in my mind..." The old man sighed: "I used to think that things like photographic memory were made up by others."

The rain slowly stopped.

At this moment, the old man suddenly noticed that Qingchen was stunned. He followed the young man's gaze towards the end of the Military and Civilian Alley, and happened to see a couple walking towards them with a little boy in their hands.

The middle-aged woman was wearing an exquisite windbreaker and holding a cake box in her hand with a beautiful purple ribbon tied on it.

The gray world could not stop the joyful expressions on the three of them. Qingchen turned and left, leaving the old man sitting under the awning in front of Fulai Supermarket and sighing softly.

The middle-aged woman saw Qing Chen's back and called Qing Chen's name, but Qing Chen disappeared at the other end of the alley without looking back.

The walls on both sides of the alley are very old. The white walls have fallen off, leaving patches of mottled red bricks.

The person Qingchen was waiting for arrived, but he didn't want to wait anymore.