Chapter 3: The Price of the Daze

Su Weixi opened her eyes to the stinging scent of antiseptic. The smell was thick enough to make her gag, as if it were trying to rip her soul right out of her body. Scattered Arabic numerals floated before her vision, darting around like a school of startled fish, jumping erratically against her retinas. No matter how hard she tried, they refused to snap together into a coherent equation.

She tried to speak, but all that came out of her throat was a raspy croak. Her usually sharp thought process had shattered into a million jagged shards, each one cutting into her nerves and sending sharp, throbbing pain pulsing through her skull.

The doctor frowned as he scribbled in his notes, the scratching of the pen against paper sounding like a death rattle. The cold diagnosis sheet hit her like a slap: "Acute stress-induced aphasia, accompanied by temporary cognitive decline. Long-term psychiatric observation recommended." Those few words echoed in her mind, carrying a metallic chill that sent shivers down her spine.

Shen Yanbai stood outside the hospital room, his back straight as a pine tree, looking completely out of place in the sterile, sickly environment. He held a sweat-stained note between his fingers, his knuckles white from gripping it too hard.

Hearing the commotion inside, he didn’t stop moving, but his voice slipped through the door, cold as the ice on a mid-winter lake, stripped of all warmth: "Since your brain is broken, don’t blame the Go Institute for showing no mercy. Next time you faint in public, expect to be expelled."

Inside, Su Weixi clutched the bedsheet so hard the rough texture cut into her palms, her fingers turning white. She couldn’t argue back. She could only let the humiliation ferment in her heart, turning into a blob of molten lava that consumed her sanity.

At the end of the hallway, Zhou Manqing was chit-chatting with a few journalists, her high heels clicking against the floor in a light, arrogant rhythm. Her makeup was flawless, her red lips shimmering with pearl gloss in the sunlight.

She glanced toward Su Weixi’s room, the corner of her mouth curling in a sarcastic smirk. She deliberately raised her voice, ensuring it drifted perfectly to every camera lens: "Oh my, I heard that our sister Weixi almost headbutted a wall just to save face for her Professional Qualification Tournament spot. How tragic. Terrible mental resilience. No wonder she was expelled three years ago."

The cameras quickly swiveled toward Zhou Manqing’s pitying face, flashbulbs popping in a frenzy. Rumors spread through The Go Institute like a virus, silent but deadly.

Su Weixi struggled to get up, her legs trembling with weakness. She tried to grab a passing janitor to explain herself, but all she could manage were broken syllables: "No... that's not... what..."

Her voice was dry as sandpaper. The janitor recoiled in shock, nearly poking her in the face with the mop handle, his eyes filled with the same disgust one might have for a plague. The twitching of her Golden Finger felt like sharp needles piercing her temples. Every time she tried to form words, her head would thunder with the noise of someone forcing her skull open to pour in chaotic code.

In her despair, she stumbled toward the corner of the staircase and crashed into a pair of rough, calloused hands.

Old Ke Jingzhi grabbed her arm, cursing under his breath. His cloudy eyes flickered with a sharp gleam, much like an old cat scrutinizing a young mouse: "What's with the noise! You scared the life out of this old man!"

He dragged Su Weixi into the shade of the back courtyard, where the sunlight was blocked by high walls, and the air smelled of old wood and dust. He pulled a bottle of strong liquor from his tattered padded jacket, took a swig, and sprayed the burning alcohol toward Su Weixi, making tears sting at the corners of her eyes.

The onlookers scattered at the commotion. The old man lowered his voice, his stubble stained with liquor: "Girl, your little tricks... you can fool everyone else, but you can't fool these eyes that have watched Go for half a lifetime?"

Su Weixi curled up on the ground in pain, her forehead pressed against the cold brick wall. The chill seeped through her skin into her bones, while cold sweat plastered her hair to her face, sticky and uncomfortable. She felt a weak twitch at her fingertips, the backlash of overexerting her "Go Heart," like an electric current shocking her entire body.

Ke Jingzhi crouched down and tapped her temple with a rough finger, applying neither too much nor too little pressure: "Forcing the Listening Realm too fast when your heart force isn't synced will cause a breakdown. Stop pushing yourself. Go to the back courtyard study and review games. Use silence to stabilize your spirit. The Heart Sounds will dissipate on their own, just like fog."

Meanwhile, Lu Xingye's livestream had exploded. Holding up his phone, he stood in front of a noisy online game archive room, the clacking of keyboards echoing in the background. With a provocative grin on his face, he gestured to the camera: "Family, you all saw it, right? Some people are trying to smear Teacher Su, so I'm here to clear her name. That's not a mental illness; that's the price of genius.

If you don't believe me, go search the old archives. Aside from that one time, she has never lost a game she shouldn't have lost." The chat screen was instantly flooded with "Support Teacher Su," green text cascading down like a waterfall. On the other end, Zhou Manqing watched the data with sinister eyes, quietly sending a modified screenshot to her assistant. The smirk on her lips was loaded with meaning.

Su Weixi dragged her battered body back to the study. The air smelled of aged wood mixed with faint tea vapor, which was calming but couldn't soothe her inner anxiety. She trembled as she touched the board; beneath the warm wooden surface, there seemed to be a low, whispering pulse.

She tried to suppress the binary code racing wildly in her mind, the green characters wrapping around her thoughts like ghosts. Pain crashed over her like a tide. She gritted her teeth, forcing her consciousness to sink into the early stages of "Listening."

Her fingertips tingled. A faint sigh rose from the stones on the board. It was the taste of fear, strange yet familiar, like the tremor of a bird startled by an arrow. She followed this thread of Heart Sound back in time and actually brushed against the pain point of a specific defeat Shen Yanbai had suffered years ago.

It was a missed killing move from a critical game twenty years prior. It remained a forbidden zone in The Go Institute's archives, sealed behind heavy iron cabinets. Su Weixi felt a wave of dizziness; the world twisted and deformed for a moment, but a cold light flashed in her eyes. So, this cold-faced Chief still had a nerve that ached when the wind blew.

The door was pushed open, and Lu Xingye swaggered in, still holding an half-eaten spicy strip, red oil staining his fingertips. He surveyed the empty study, then leaned toward Su Weixi, lowering his voice with a grin: "Hey, aphasia patient. Your face is darker than that Go board.

Brother Shen told me to bring this message. He wants you to take that box of Ancient Game Records from the back yard to cool off. By the way, in my last stream game, check it out for me. Which move did you see through?"

Su Weixi ignored his teasing, her gaze locking onto a yellowed Ancient Game Record he had casually picked up. The edges of the paper were curled, reeking of the decay of time. Her fingertips touched the board again. This time, there was no forced extraction; instead, the information flowed naturally.

The endgame patterns in the record unfolded before her eyes, like a scroll slowly unrolling. The black and white lines reassembled in her mind. For a brief second, she glimpsed the shifting light and shadow of the Review Realm. Three evolution paths, forgotten by history, became clearly visible, like three lamps lit in the fog.

The language barrier receded at that moment, like the ebbing tide, washing away the turbid impurities and leaving a clear, silent void. Su Weixi looked up, her eyes cold as a deep pool, devoid of any extraneous emotion.

She looked at Lu Xingye. Her voice was raspy but firm, every word landing with weight: "In that game you just played, you blundered in the middle game. It wasn't because you couldn't calculate; it was because you got greedy for that ko threat in the corner. The variation you rejected actually had a winning probability two percent higher than the move you clung to."

Lu Xingye froze, the spicy strip suspended in mid-air. A smile of sudden realization spread across his face. He dropped his playful demeanor, and the madness in his eyes was replaced by a pure reverence for a superior.

Su Weixi pulled a yellowed page from the game record. Her fingertip, dipped in tea, circled a spot on an unrecorded Ancient Game Record variation with a heavy mark. The tea bled into the rice paper, forming a dark brown blot. That variation, located just below the tengen, looked ordinary but was actually the critical pivot of Shen Yanbai's old defeat, and the deepest weakness in his heart.

Outside the window, the sound of Shen Yanbai's footsteps receded, heavy and rhythmic, each step seeming to stomp directly on Su Weixi's mind. Su Weixi tightened her grip on the teacup, her thumbs rubbing the rough surface, the corner of her mouth curling into a faint, cold smile. This game had only just begun.

Outside, the wind and rain abruptly ceased. The endgame was unsolved, and people's hearts were unsettled. The circled variation sat like a hidden nail, driven deep into Su Weixi's thoughts. It wasn't just about winning the game; it was about washing away the filthy rumors.

Zhou Manqing’s spread of the "shame-induced self-harm" rumor was like a thorn stuck in the ears of the younger generation of the sect, placing Su Weixi on the dock of moral judgment. Now, she no longer needed Old Ke Jingzhi’s guidance, nor the brief peace of rest. What she needed was a counterattack, an overturn, to shut up everyone who looked down on her.

The night was as black as ink, and the lights deep in The Go Institute stretched her shadow long. Su Weixi tucked the yellowed game record into her sleeve and stood up to straighten her clothes. The woman in the mirror had a pale complexion, with dark circles under her eyes barely hidden. That was the cost of overusing the Golden Finger, and also the mark of her rebirth.

She looked toward the direction where Shen Yanbai had disappeared. There was no more weakness in her eyes. That Ancient Game Record variation wasn't just the key to victory; it was the greatest shame Shen Yanbai refused to speak of from his past defeat. If she could demonstrate this move publicly, not only would she clear her name of insanity, but she would also directly pierce Shen Yanbai’s mask of the "Perfect Player."

The next morning, the sect's training grounds were buzzing with noise. Zhou Manqing stood on a high platform, her tone fierce as she accused Su Weixi of "evil intent and feigning madness," trying to kick her out of the core player list. Just as the crowd murmured and exchanged glances, Su Weixi walked slowly into the square. Ignoring the pointing fingers around her, she went straight to the match platform.

Shen Yanbai was already seated there, his expression indifferent, as if he were tired of this farce. Only when he heard Su Weixi’s footsteps did a sharp glint flash in his eyes, hard to notice.

"Since Senior Sister Zhou says I'm a crazy person," Su Weixi's voice was cool, cutting through the surrounding chaos, "then please, Brother Shen, accept my move. Just one game will tell the truth."

She casually took a stone jar. As her fingertips touched the cold stones, that familiar chill spread through her nerves. It was no longer pain, but a kind of cold, clear awareness.

She placed a stone with no regrets, her gaze locked firmly on Shen Yanbai. The smile at the corner of her mouth deepened, but in a corner no one saw, she tightly clutched that Ancient Game Record with the lethal variation in her palm, fine sweat beads seeping out of her skin.

The wind picked up the fallen leaves on the ground, messing up her hair. The black and white battle on the board had only just drawn its curtain, the gears of fate began to turn frantically, and no one could predict how many pride and dignity would shatter when the next stone was placed.