It seemed as if the days had gone back to three or four years ago.
Under a tree covered with snow, Leon Luo and John Han leisurely set up their chessboards. Leon Luo's style was bold and decisive, while John Han's style was cautious and step-by-step. The two of them were so contradictory, yet so harmonious and unified, and they were so familiar with each other that they were like each other's shadows.
Leon Luo didn't focus on chess for the most part, and John Han was the same. They put more energy into each other: a wrinkled corner of clothing would be repeatedly brushed over with eyes, as if it could be smoothed out with sight. The fingertips covered with thin calluses pinched the black and white chess pieces, and the fiery eyes cast on them made them hot as if they were touching each other's hands.
After several months, their auras finally met again, blending together so perfectly in the first moment when lovers met. When the two stood side by side, it seemed as if they had drawn a unified force field outward with them as the center.
Leon Luo pressed a chess piece on the chessboard, and finally couldn't help it anymore. He picked up Qianling's trapped white piece and put it aside, laughing and saying, "Do you want to play again?"
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