Chapter Thirty-Nine: Meeting One's Match

Within the Su Residence.

Su Liuwu sat before a table, staring at the few square chunks of black substance in his bowl until his eyes grew sore, unable to fathom what was so remarkable about it.

Wasn’t it just tofu?

And smelly, at that!

The new snack from South Street had become an overnight sensation, and word of it soon reached Su Liuwu. He promptly instructed his servants to procure several pieces.

In Cangzhou, when it came to commerce, the Su family claimed second place—no one dared to claim first. With Eunuch Wang’s backing, at least for now, the city was under the Su family’s sway.

Now, this sudden emergence of stinky tofu was a clear attempt to cut into their profits and take a slice of their pie. If they ignored it, letting it grow unchecked, it would soon be too late to act.

Old Li, his servant, kept fanning the flames, and upon learning that the person behind the stinky tofu business was Li Goudan—the very same who had slapped him thrice before—Su Liuwu’s anger soared.

This time, he decided to settle both old and new scores.

Without his father’s knowledge, Su Liuwu ordered that all stalls and shops around Li Residence be purchased. The land would belong to him, and he was eager to see how Li Goudan would continue selling his tofu.

Additionally, he arranged for all tofu on South Street to be bought up, cutting off the supply at its source. Without land or ingredients, no matter how clever Li Goudan was, he would be powerless.

With everything set, Su Liuwu picked up a piece of stinky tofu, thinking, “Can such a foul thing truly taste good?”

But once he took a bite, he couldn’t stop, devouring several pieces in succession, eating until the bowl was empty before he finally came to his senses.

“Is there any more?”

“No… none left.”

Old Li stood to the side, watching Su Liuwu, whose actions contradicted his words. He didn’t know what to say—just moments ago, they were sworn enemies, yet now he couldn’t stop eating Li Goudan’s tofu. What kind of person was this?

Su Liuwu felt certain Li Goudan would soon come begging, and he wore a smug grin, his plump face beaming with joy. He slapped Old Li’s shoulder, declaring he would treat him today, and they would dine at the famed Flower Pavilion.

Soon after,

Su Liuwu changed into a new outfit, carrying a white folding fan and affecting the manner of a refined gentleman. With plenty of money on him, he and Old Li boarded a carriage and departed.

…

Inside the Flower Pavilion.

Li Pingyang and his maid, Little Dragonfly, sat by the window on the second floor, awaiting their meal. The maid kept tugging at Li Pingyang, urging him to look at the fish in the pond below.

Li Pingyang’s brow was furrowed; he had no mood for such things. He’d intended only a modest treat, but the girl seemed determined to empty his purse before she was satisfied…

Soon, the signature dishes arrived: drunken duck and lotus root fish head soup. The aroma alone convinced Li Pingyang the trip was worthwhile—the money well spent.

“Sir, here is your wine! If you need anything else, just call for me—I’ll be downstairs,” said the waiter, carrying a jar of fragrant wine, placing it gently on the table, and spreading out two nested wine bowls.

Li Pingyang, engrossed in his food, grabbed a duck leg and stuffed half of it in his mouth. Hearing the waiter, he thanked him.

The sound of “thank you” surprised the waiter, who scratched his head and retreated in confusion.

After all, they were in the Song Dynasty. His modern manners didn’t quite fit here. Realizing this, Li Pingyang smiled and continued gnawing on his duck leg.

His eyes wandered around, and he noticed two people playing chess at the opposite table. Feeling bored, he tore off another duck leg and walked over to watch.

At that moment, a young man and an elderly gentleman with graying temples were facing off. A few others gathered around, observing. Based on the current game, it seemed the elder was about to lose.

But Li Pingyang saw it differently. With a duck leg in hand, he studied the board for a moment, swallowed his mouthful, and praised the move.

The spectators all turned and rolled their eyes at him, treating him as a fool who didn’t understand chess—anyone with eyes could see the elder was losing.

Yet he called it a good move, implying they knew nothing.

Li Pingyang remained silent, for only he saw that the ultimate victor would be the elder.

Outside, beneath the eaves, a spider had spun its web, awaiting a flying insect to fall into its trap. The web was hidden by the eaves, not easily noticed.

A few more moves were made. The elder’s seemingly doomed game suddenly reversed, pressing the opponent harder and harder, like a tiger descending the mountain, sweeping all before it.

The young man grew flustered, hesitating over his next move, failing to see he’d fallen into a trap. When he realized it, it was too late—he was ensnared.

Outside, the insect crashed into the hidden web and struggled, but the more it fought, the tighter it was bound, until it ceased to move.

The young man respectfully conceded, bowed, shook his head in unwillingness, and departed. The spectators, too, realized their mistake only after the fact.

The elder finally looked up, carefully studying Li Pingyang. He saw before him a young man, yet one able to discern the subtleties of the game.

“Young sir, it seems you are quite versed in this art?”

“No, no, I only know a little, just a little…”

The elder smiled and gestured for Li Pingyang to sit, eager to play a game with him. It had been a long time since he’d met a true opponent, and he regarded this young man highly.

As the saying goes, heroes cherish heroes—this was the truth.

Li Pingyang hadn’t played chess in ages; as a child, his father often dragged him to play, teaching him many tricks. Thus he’d been able to see the elder’s strategy earlier.

Seated opposite the elder, Li Pingyang wiped his hands, then picked up a white stone and placed it boldly near the center-right of the board.

The opening move made the elder frown, wondering what sort of strategy this was—he’d never seen such an opening.

In truth, there was no strategy—Li Pingyang’s hand had slipped, and embarrassed to take it back, he simply continued.

The elder responded, and they alternated moves. After about ten moves, the elder’s frown deepened, astonished at the young man’s chess style.

He couldn’t help but ask, “May I ask, young sir, who is your teacher?”

“Ah? Oh… I learned from television.”

“Television…”

The elder stroked his beard, frowning even more. He repeated the word, pondering—who was this master named Television? He’d never heard of such a person.

Realizing his slip, Li Pingyang quickly covered, explaining that the person’s surname was Dian, not local, and hadn’t played many matches, so his fame was limited.

The elder nodded and continued the game. The two played leisurely, while Little Dragonfly, unfamiliar with chess, propped her head on her hand nearby, nearly falling asleep.

As time passed, the white stones dominated the board, scattering the black stones. At this rate, the elder was sure to lose to Li Pingyang.