The Boy and the Elephant Chess

The Boy & The Elephant Chess

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Many lifetimes ago, in the fabled city of Northern Peace lived a young boy who had nothing but a chipped Xiangqi chessboard, the names on the pieces nearly faded out. Every afternoon while the sun burnt itself low, and folks milled to and fro in the Qianmen artistry district, the boy sat outside its archway where he cried the same challenge.

"GATHER AROUND, PEOPLE OF NORTHERN PEACE, GATHER AROUND! WITNESS A ROUND OF THE ELEPHANT CHESS AGAINST ONE POOR CHILD! ONE COPPER COIN TO PLAY, ONE FROM EACH OF US, AND THEY ARE BOTH YOURS WHEN YOU WIN! COME ONE, COME ALL!"

And they came, the poets and artisans. The young mistresses of noble estates floated close beneath their parasols, while common household mothers bustled over curiously behind them. The officers of the peace came, and so did the elder gentlemen who filled teahouses to talk about business and the town. For the legends say Xiangqi, the Elephant Chess, was no ordinary board game, but a gift to the mortal realm through an ancient sage's dream.

Now back then the rules of the game were a touch different from today, and very close to war of the times. Spears, horses, cannons and chariots drove into enemy land to sack and raid. And in those days, the elephants went with them in great strength and numbers. It was the same in chess, that most tricky puzzle of order and disorder. Generations of ministers and generals and nobles have studied it since boyhood.

And here was this nobody shouting nonsense about it. At first, his shoddy clothes, skinny frame, scuffed chessboard and loudness drew some whispers.

"Who is this rascal troubling the city?"

"It's a loudmouth who wants to waste our time."

"Cheek! Such poor manners!"

"Is this some childish trick, boy?"

But something about his warm voice and his bright, honest face drew them in. One burly merchant decided to show the lad a thing or two, but to everyone's shock, he lost only after a few moves. Red faced, the man slapped down another copper and blustered for another match. When he surrendered his emperor again, the townsfolk started murmuring. After a third copper and a third defeat, the merchant rose and stumbled off, speechless with shame.

And so unraveled the long string of Xiangqi games that the city would never forget. A nobleman's son, then a math tutor, then a physician, then a retired magistrate, then a member of the Xiangqi guild. The more folks lost to him, the more others wanted to defeat this nameless scamp who kept winning so easily and cheerfully.

But though the city was full with Xiangqi masters, no one won back their copper. And as the boy's opponents sat and rose one after another, everyone's amusement turned to disbelief, then downright wonder or indignation. Those who worked odd jobs saw greatness and kindredness in him while some in higher standings were enraged, for he had embarrassed them in open day.

Soon the sun shrank like a finished candle. Then the boy stood, gathered his chess and coins, and without a word more, headed into an alley before anyone could follow him. The streets led one way, and looped another, but soon he came to a rundown little pork shop that his father once owned. Here lived his mother, who steamed rice for the two of them by day, and boiled barley soup by night.

"Son," said she. "I'm older now, and cannot see with my eyes or feel with my fingers as I once could. My rice net is sticky from the whole day in its pot under my rice. After we eat, take my rice net and a water basin and make sure it is clean."

The boy put away his winnings under a floorboard, ate with his mother, and then washed her rice net, unrolling it in swathes and carefully picking out the bits. Then his mother spoke again.