Along the road stood a row of pretty garden villas.

Shen Mo walked into one of them, pushed open the wrought-iron lattice gate of the courtyard. Under the grapevine in the yard, a middle-aged man sat before a low square table, playing chess alone.

The chess set was an item left behind by the original owners of this villa—carved from wood, the lacquer now flaking and mottled, the edges rubbed smooth and round.

Shen Mo sat down at the other end of the low table and looked at the state of the board.

It looked like a life-or-death endgame.

He glanced across at his father.

In his memory, his father had never played chess. His father’s usual pastimes had always been fixed: reading, calligraphy, mountain-climbing, and golf.

Of course, some of those pastimes were no longer possible.

The middle-aged man looked at the game on the board before him and opened his mouth calmly: “Don’t take what Shen Fei says too much to heart. I’m not some sixty or seventy-year-old who can’t get around anymore. I have two hands and two feet—I’m not at the age where I need my children taking care of me. You don’t need to come over here so often.”

He then raised his head to look at Shen Mo, and smiled faintly: “Even at sixty or seventy, one doesn’t necessarily need looking after. I’ve heard there’s an elderly man in your group. Is that true?”

Shen Mo sat across the table and answered, “Yes. His name is Cheng Weicai—he’s a teacher at a middle school in Nanjing.”

“Is that so.” Shen Mo’s father nodded and lowered his head again, silently studying the board in front of him.

The silence stretched on. Father and son seemed to have nothing to say.

After a while, Shen Mo spoke: “I never knew you played chess before.”

“Back when I was young, I played a few games with your grandfather.” Father Shen picked up a piece, then hesitated and set it back down, sighing, “Haven’t touched this game in ages—I’m rusty.”

Shen Mo looked at the board, reached out and moved the chariot to the fifth square directly in front of the general. “Check.”

Father Shen smiled despite himself: “That won’t work—my horse is guarding here.”

He jumped the horse and captured Shen Mo’s chariot.

Shen Mo advanced the pawn. “Check.”

“This is a dead end—won’t work.” Father Shen shook his head again, moved the minister, and took the pawn.

Shen Mo repositioned the cannon, dropping it on the general. “Check.”

Father Shen froze.

Shen Mo said evenly, “A one-move dead end—take two moves. A two-move dead end—take three. Your grandfather used to say: a way out is something you walk yourself.”

Father Shen stared at the board for a full half-minute, then began undoing his last move. “I played that wrong just now. I won’t move the horse.”

Shen Mo: “Dad, you can’t take back moves.”

“It’s not as if this is a real battle—just the two of us playing around. Hardly counts as taking back a move.” Father Shen restored the board and moved the general behind the minister. “This way it should be completely safe.”

Shen Mo looked helpless.

Yet seeing the few strands of white that had appeared at his father’s temples, his mood became a little bitter.

His father was a typical wealthy young master—raised in luxury, pampered and carefree all his life. Because of the strict family upbringing, he had never fallen into bad habits. The patriarch had been fair-handed, and there had been no ugly quarrels among the brothers over the family fortune. One could say he’d spent half his life without a care in the world.

Now, facing circumstances like these and still managing to remain calm—that was no easy feat.

After a quiet moment, Shen Mo said to his father, “I’m planning to leave in a few days. Head north.”

“Head north?” Father Shen was briefly taken aback. He looked at Shen Mo. “…You want to help Youwei find her mother?”

Wang Jingxian had also gone north.

Shen Mo shook his head. “The area’s too vast—finding one person would be too hard. We’re heading north to collect jigsaw pieces.”

“Collecting jigsaw pieces…” Father Shen understood. “Last time I heard from your Second Uncle that there are labyrinths in Wuhan and Zhengzhou. I just don’t know—it’s been so long now—whether those labyrinths are still there…”

He said this and let out a soft sigh: “Shanghai may have no labyrinth, but it’s also attracted games because of that. If Game No. 21 remains uncleared for long, the base will probably have to relocate elsewhere.”