Nomenclature of Night

　　 The first volume.

The first chapter of 　　夜: Sonata.

　　...

　　 2022, autumn.

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

　　 It is autumn, and from time to time, pedestrians without umbrellas can be seen passing by with their hands over their heads.

　　 In the narrow Junmin Hutong, there is a seventeen or eighteen-year-old boy sitting opposite an old man under the canopy next to the supermarket canteen.

　　 The whole world outside the canopy is gloomy, and the ground is darkened by rain. Only the ground under the canopy is left with a dry area, as if there is only this piece of pure land left in the entire world.

　　 A dilapidated wooden chess board was placed in front of them, with the red "Fu Lai Supermarket" sign on top of their heads.

　　 "General," the young Qingchen said and stood up, leaving the old man with sparse hair sitting in a daze.

　　 Young Qingchen glanced at the other person and said calmly, "Don't struggle."

　　 "I can still..." the old man said unwillingly: "This is only 13 steps..."

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

　　 Qingchen didn't explain anything, the murderous intent had been revealed on the chessboard, it was the last moment of the poor view.

　　 The boy has a clean face and clear eyes. He is just sitting there in a plain school uniform, as if he has made the world around him more transparent.

　　 The old man threw the chess piece he lifted onto the chessboard and discarded the piece to admit defeat.

　　 No one beside Qingchen walked into the counter of the nearby supermarket, took 20 yuan from the change basket under the counter and put it in his pocket.

　　 The old man looked at Qing Chen cursingly: "I have to lose you 20 yuan every day! I just won 20 yuan from Lao Li and Zhang in the morning, and I will lose all to you now!"

Qing Chen picked up the money, then sat back next to the chessboard and started replaying: "If they hadn’t been willing to play chess with me, I wouldn’t have to win money through you. You need face, I need money, it’s fair. reasonable."

"You can eat me, right?" The old man murmured, "The fortune teller said that I can live to seventy-eight. I'm only fifty now. If you lose 20 yuan a day, how much do I have to pay? "

　　 "But I also teach you to play chess to win back your face," Qing Chen replied calmly, "You are not at a loss in this calculation."

　　 The old man murmured: "But what you have taught these past two days is just useless things."

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

　　 Old man: "???"

　　 The old man re-arranged the chessboard in angrily, and then eagerly said: "It's all right, let's resume the game."

　　 At this moment, Qing Chen suddenly bowed his head.

　　 The time that has just passed is like playing back from his mind.

　　The guns that hit the head, the fierce pawns in the Chu He Han realm, echoed in my mind one by one.

More than these.

　　 There are also uncles who passed by them while playing chess, holding the four sesame cakes they just bought. The fresh sesame cakes fainted with some water vapor, and the transparent plastic bag was stained with a layer of white mist.

　　 The little girl in a white dress walked by with an umbrella. There were two beautiful butterflies on the upper of her leather shoes.

　　 Above the sky, the precarious rain fell in the alley, crystal clear.

At the end of the alley, No. 103 bus flashed past the narrow alley. A woman in a beige windbreaker rushed to the bus station with an umbrella.

　　 The sound of footsteps, the sound of running water when rain water enters the manhole cover by the roadside, these noisy sounds make the world extremely quiet.

　　 Qing Chen has never forgotten all this, although it is a bit difficult to recall.

　　 But it’s difficult, but that doesn’t mean it’s impossible.

　　 This weird memory is Qing Chen's innate talent, just like he picked an archive from the long river of time, and then read the picture in the archive magnetic strip.

　　 Qingchen resisted the dizziness in his brain and squeezed the chess pieces on the chessboard.

　　 The old man stopped talking immediately, and stared at the board with his eyes intently. The resumption after each game was also the agreed terms of the game.

　　 Qingchen is responsible for teaching chess, and the old man learns chess after losing money.

　　 This scene is a bit weird, Qing Chen does not have the modesty and shyness that young people should have when facing the elderly, but like a teacher.

　　 The other party didn't think there was anything.

　　 "The red square cannon two equal five, the black one equals five, the red horse two enters three, the dark horse eight enters seven, the red square car enters one one, the black square car nine equals eight..." Qing Chen moved the chess piece step by step.

　　 The old man didn't blink his eyes. The start was normal, but he couldn't figure out how to get to the sixth step. He obviously ate the opponent's horse, but suddenly fell into a slump.

"The essence of the 13 tricks to abandon horses is to enter the cart and abandon the horse in the sixth step. This is a killer to tear the line of defense," Qing Chen said quietly: "I see the chess you played with that old man in Wangcheng Park the day before yesterday. Now, he likes to start the game smoothly. It’s no problem for you to beat him with these thirteen tricks."

　　 The old man on the opposite side fell into deep thought, and then asked in a low voice: "Can you really beat him?"

　　 "Learn the thirteen tricks I taught you to abandon horses within one week, and you can get your face back," Qing Chen said, "After all... he didn't do that much."

　　 There was a hint of joy on the old man's face.

　　 But he suddenly asked: "If I can beat him by studying for a week, how long can I beat you by studying chess?"

　　 Under the canopy, Qing Chen thought about it seriously: "The fortune teller said you can live seventy-eight years old... Then it's too late."

　　 The old man's complexion was stagnant: "If you say a few words, I might be able to live to seventy-nine... Hey, you should study on your own at night, UU reading www.uukanshu.com, why is school so early today?"

　　 He knew that Qing Chen was a sophomore in high school. Today is Tuesday, so the 13th High School two blocks away should be studying late at this time.

　　 Qingchen thought for a while and wanted to answer: "I'm waiting for someone."

　　 "Waiting for someone?" The old man was taken aback for a moment.

　　 Qingchen got up and looked at the drizzle outside the canopy, his eyes dangling in the rain.

　　 The old man said: "Qing Chen, your kid is so good at chess, why don't you go to a chess game? Didn't you say that you are short of money? You have money to win the championship."

Young Qingchen shook his head: "I just memorized a lot of chess records in my mind, not how good I played chess. Memory does not mean analytical ability. It's okay to play with you. If you really meet a master, I will be shy. . My way is not here. Chess is only temporary."

　　 "It's all in my mind..." The old man sighed: "I used to think that remembering things like this was made up by others."

　　 The rain slowly stopped.

　　 At this moment, the old man suddenly noticed that Qing Chen was stunned. He followed the boy's gaze and looked towards the end of the Junmin Hutong. He happened to see a couple walking with a little boy.

　　The middle-aged woman is wearing a delicate windbreaker, holding a cake box in her hand, and the box is tied with a beautiful purple ribbon.

　　 The gray world couldn't stop the joyful look on the three of them. Qing Chen turned around and left, leaving the old man sitting under the canopy at the entrance of Fulai Supermarket and sighing softly.

　　 The middle-aged woman saw Qing Chen's back, she called out Qing Chen's name, but Qing Chen disappeared at the other end of the alley without turning her head back.

The walls on both sides of 　　 Hutong are very old. After the white walls fall off, they leave a patchwork of red bricks.

　　 The people Qingchen was waiting for came, but he didn't want to wait anymore.