The Jade Chessboard

I raced up the smooth stone pathway which curved along the steep mossy hill towards the small shack in the distance. Each step on the worn stones was familiar and had been performed countless times before. Today is my victory, I will beat him I assured myself. With fists clenched in determination my feet carried me to the humble lodging and I looked into my opponent’s face with fiery resolve. The bright eyes housed inside the old wizened face returned my glare with mild amusement. The old man before me welcomed my chaotic presence with a slight bow at the waist which I quickly returned out of respect, desperately trying to catch my breath. He motioned to sit on a crudely made stool, and like so many days past, we began.

The mountain wind blew through the twisted tree branches overhead and tickled the chimes sweetly singing into the clear air. The old man offered me a small wooden cup of steaming tea as I stared down at the gleaming jade chessboard before me. The light and dark shades of green jade were marbled neatly through the board’s expanse, contrasting and blending the two rich colors. Each chess piece was carved into minute detail with smooth curves and straight edges. The sun’s glow illuminated the jade chessboard and the green hue seemed to sparkle with life of its own, bewitching the player’s eyes with its beauty. The game began, and as quickly as I had run to his home, my king piece toppled over onto the jade checkerboard pattern with a resounding thud of defeat. Once again, his dry hands reached for the little black book in his lap. With each match he won, the feather ink pen would rise to take mysterious notes in the yellowed pages between the two black covers. I had never gotten the chance to see what was written inside that black abyss of knowledge, but somehow, I knew it was the key.

The next day, time swore its revenge on me. My eyes squinted watching the sun move slowly across the morning sky as I was drowned in more meaningless school lessons. In my mind, the curved edges of each jade chess piece danced across the infuriating pattern of the dark green squares holding my deepest tenacity and tragic failures. The instant the school bell rang, my feet pounded up the green hill once more to the old man’s hut. I bowed hastily, sat across from the old man, and again my tall jade king was dethroned. The black book opened and shut with the old man’s notation of his final victorious blow. I watched him carefully as he made more notes, the feather ink pen swishing back and forth. From talk I heard in the village, it seemed that the old man arrived one day from distant mountains after his monastery was crushed by an avalanche. As the lone survivor, the old monk had chosen to live out his days in this modest village where I was born. Where he had acquired the jade chessboard living without money? Aware of his keen eyes observing me intently, I snapped out of my pondering to meet his gaze.

“Tomorrow?”

“Tomorrow.” I replied confidently.

---

Dawn split the dark sky into a myriad of bright pink and yellow colors. It was the day of rest from lessons, so I was free to challenge the old man to chess in the morning sunlight. Different hues of jade flashed through my mind as I considered how the queen would protect her king, and why the pawns seemed so useless in defense. Scarfing down a bowl of rice my curiosity returned to me; the key to victory has to be inside that small black book!

Sprinting full speed ahead up the hill, my eyes anticipated seeing the soft sun rays sparkle off the radiant green board. As the familiar small shack came into view, my foot stumbled slightly in confusion. The old man was not sitting outside the hut waiting for me. Not a day had passed in which the old man was absent from his small stool to accompany the chessboard when I arrived. Confusion propelled my stride and I reached the old man’s humble abode. Light beams sneaking through the cracks in the roof illuminated the dusty floor of the hut to reveal a figure lying down motionless, the jade chessboard glowing alongside him.

With short breaths I knelt down next to the old man and touched his arm lightly. In one swift motion, the dust floating in golden light was sliced in half as the old man’s hand lifted up and landed on my chest with a resounding thud. The blow shocked me, but in split second I realized the little black book was clutched in his crooked fingers on my breast.

“This is yours now young one. Let wisdom guide you as a friend.”

I reached up to grab the black book as his hand dropped to the jade chessboard by my knees. His fingers deftly traced a small square of dark green as he breathed a deep and hollow sigh.

“Before my days at the monastery, I traveled this ancient land swindling the money out of innocent pockets through this simple game. With this board I cheated kings and nobleman, the poppers and the impoverished, or whomever was unfortunate enough to fall in my grasp. Alas, the err in my ways was too blatant to ignore, and I resigned myself to a life of seclusion and meditation in penance for my sins.”

His knobbed fingers suddenly curled into a fist and hit the board, shaking the pieces which rested in their carved out encasements.

“Listen well, young one. This board is filled with evil from every distant land imaginable. The jade chessboard is innocent from all its appearances, but what lies within is corrupt and vile.”

With one last concerted effort, he lifted his aged body up and grasp my tunic with both wrinkled hands. Stunned, I dropped the black book as his bright eyes came close to my face, boring into my heart. I felt a pang in my chest as if his piercing glare saw every atom of my soul.

“Master the game, but do not let it master your heart.” He uttered quietly.

It was as if once the words parted from his lips, a peace came over his whole body, and the irony grip holding my tunic released gently. His aged body relaxed back onto the dusty woven bed mat and his hand clasp in front of him, fingers interlaced. The dust floating in the light swirled in circles, taking the old man’s last breath through the slotted roof into the open air of the mountains. Tear drops hit the floor as I looked through swollen eyes at the old man’s body now laid to rest.

---

For the next few days, I poured over every page in the little black book, staving the pain of the old man’s passing. Like I had imagined, it was riddled with secret strategies to the game of chess. More than that, every entry was a detailed description of the opponent’s name and location, the strategy used to win, and the money gained from each transaction. As I made a total of all the money in his book, I realized he gained almost 129,182 renminbi ($20,000 USD) as a traveling swindler. But where was the money? My questioning was interrupted by distant yelling.

“Aye! Toyo!”

I heard a small set of feet on the cobble draw near to me as the familiar voice of my younger brother yelled out again in excitement.

“Aye! You got the old man’s chessboard, right? Can you teach me? Please, Toyo!”

His innocent eyes bulged in excitement, hands clasp behind his back.

“Of course, I do!” I replied haughtily, “But do you have the jiao mother gave you for chores?”

“Yes!” his small chubby hand outstretched proudly with a single jiao.

“You know you only get it back if you win against me.”

His big brown eyes widened at the thought of losing a week’s worth of chore money, “But the old man never made you pay-”

Dismissing the thought of the old man quickly, I snapped at him, “Doesn’t matter! Do you want to play or not?!”

In minutes, I had won the game with a newfound strategy noted in old man’s black book. The jiao was passed begrudgingly into my hand over the jade checked battleground, but as the coin touched my skin it turned ice cold. Master the game, but do not let it master your heart. The words sliced deeply as I realized my grave error. In a matter of days, I had repeated the old man’s early mistakes and began the treachery of the board once again. Chess was never meant to steal from the innocent as a tool for gain, but rather to be played passionately with love of true strategy and sportsmanship. In my rage, I yelled wildly and flipped the small wood table. The ancient jade chessboard soared through the air and landed on the hard cobbled rock instantly shattering down the center with a piercing crash. The hand-carved pieces flew in every direction, tumbling out of sight.

Spilling from the crack down the middle of the board, thousands of different paper currencies, from every distant land, were caught up in a gust of wind swirling around our heads. My heart sank as I quickly realized the old man had never made his wrongs right, but rather inherited this evil to me. Flying through the air around me was the money he had stolen from the rich and poor, and lying at my feet was my brother’s jiao. The wind died down and the bills descended to rest on the stone as I dropped to my knees. I stared furiously at the slab of smooth jade now split in two, the jagged edges menacingly pointed towards the sky as more paper bills protruded from the hollow inside. It was no longer a beautiful artifact of the past, nor I did not admire the dark green squares with respect and honor as I once had. Clenching my fists, everything in my being wanted to hurl the broken board far away and burn the money laying at my feet. In the chaos of my heart, my mind suddenly focused on one singular idea.

I stood up with a loud vow, “Money ruled the old man’s heart, but it will not enthrone mine! Brother, help me gather the money.”

We slid each paper bills carefully into my leather book bag. Although many of the people the old man had stolen from are likely dead, their names may still live on through their children’s household. I will return what was stolen, and make amends for the wrong, I whispered vehemently to myself. Even as tears stung the corner of my eyes, a small smile crossed over my lips.

“At the end of the day, everything I do need is in this little black book.”