The Nomenclature of the Night

Chapter One: The person I want to wait

2022, fall.

The patter of light rain fell from the gray sky, drenching lightly on the city streets.

In the fall, pedestrians without umbrellas can be seen from time to time passing by with their hands over their heads.

In the narrow military-civilian alley, there was a seventeen or eighteen-year-old boy sitting under the canopy next to the supermarket canteen opposite of an old man.

The whole world outside the canopy was dark, and the ground was turned into light black by the rain. Only the ground under the canopy remained a dry area as if there was only this piece of pure land left in the entire world.

In front of them was a dilapidated Chinese wooden chessboard with a red signboard of "Fulai Supermarket" above their heads.

"General," the young Qingchen stood up after speaking, leaving the old man with thinning hair to sit.

The young Qingchen glanced at the other party and said calmly, "No need to struggle."

"I can still..." The old man said unwillingly, "It's only thirteen steps..."

In the words, the old man felt a little embarrassed about the situation of throwing away his armor and armor in thirteen steps.

Qing Chen didn't explain anything, the chessboard was already full of murderous intentions, and it was the last moment of fighting.

The boy's face was clean and his eyes were clear, but he just sat there wearing a simple school uniform, as if the world around him had been purified and transparent.

The old man threw the chess piece raised in his hand onto the chessboard and gave up the piece to admit defeat.

Qing Chen walked into the counter of the supermarket next to him without anyone else, took 20 dollars from the change basket under the counter, and put it in his pocket.

The old man looked at Qingchen scoldingly: "I have to lose 20 dollars to you every day! I just won 20 dollars from Lao Li and Lao Zhang this morning, and I will lose it all to you now!"

Qing Chen put away the money, then sat back next to the chessboard and began to review the game: "If they hadn't been willing to play chess with me, I wouldn't have to win money through you. You need fame, I need money, it's fair. Reasonable."

"You're going to kill me, right?" the old man muttered: "Fortune tellers say I can live to be seventy-eight years old, and I'm only fifty now. If I lose 20 dollars a day, how much money will I have to pay? "

"But I also teach you to play chess to win back your fame," Qing Chen replied calmly, "You're not at a loss in this way."

The old man muttered, "But what you've taught these two days is useless."

Qingchen glanced at him: "Don't talk about yourself like that."

Old man: "???"

The old man repositioned the chessboard angrily, and said eagerly, "It's alright, it's alright, let's go back to the game."

At this moment, Qing Chen suddenly lowered his head.

The time that had just passed seemed to be playing back in his mind.

The guns that hit the head, the fierce soldiers on the Chu River and the Han world, echoed in my mind one by one.

not only these.

There was also an uncle who passed by them when they were playing chess. He was holding four biscuits that he had just bought. The fresh biscuits were stunned by some water vapor, and the transparent plastic bag was covered with a layer of white mist.