So it is, that when Westerners remark on differences between Eastern and Western culture and customs in the words of Kipling- “East is East and West is West...,” many Chinese chess players, recalling the Russian’s fury, vigorously assent. The Oriental player is not only required by tradition to maintain his composure as he engages in the “psychological warfare” of chess, but has deliberately dedicated himself to sportsmanship by the very fact of his participation. The fiery scenes sometimes erupting in Western chess tourneys have had no counterparts in tournaments in this country or Japan.
Actually, China is the source of two kinds of chess, one—hsiang chi, much like Western chess, is discussed in another article in this section. The other weichi (also called go, or “encirclement chess”), is especially regarded as a gem of Chinese culture since the hsiang chi form, though Sinified, like Western chess had its origins in ancient India.
Weichi is also played on a board by two people, but with that, the similarity to hsiang chi and Western chess ends. This may be quickly illustrated by a look at the pieces required for encirclement chess—360, black or white, otherwise alike.
As every Chinese knows, weichi is a challenge to the intellect, and there is an art to be observed in the deportment of the players as well as in devising strategy for a game. Before the game, the players ensure that the equipment is both clean and complete. At the start of the game, the players nod or bow slightly to the referee and to one another, then take their seats and begin play. When the game formally ends, the players put away the pieces, ensuring again that the set is complete. Then after mutual bows or handshakes, they leave their seats quietly.
The playing pieces consist of 180 white and 180 black buttons- in cheaper sets made of plastic, in traditional sets made from shell and slate, respectively. The pieces are called stones, and in regulation size are 2.15 cm in diameter, about 1 cm thick, and approximately 6 grams in weight.
The board, of flat wood, is 45 cm long and 42 cm wide. Nineteen lines divide the board horizontally and vertically, in even spacing, creating 361 points of intersection on which the pieces are placed in play. The horizontal lines are 2.35 cm apart, while the vertical lines are 2.2 cm apart. Small dots are imprinted at special points of intersection-of the fourth lines from the top, bottom, and each side with one another; and of the centermost vertical and horizontal lines both with one another and with the fourth lines. These are called “star points.” Nine such star points aid in judging position during play.
Except in special contests, each game is limited to two players, who select their colors for each game based on rules governing handicaps. A move consists in placing a stone on any inter section. Each side occupies connecting points one by one to form lines boundaries of territory. Dividing the board into occupied territory for each side is the object of the game; the winner has the greater final territory.
Unlike the other chess forms, in which chessmen have different “ranks” and powers, all weichi pieces are born equal. Only their “postnatal” employment creates differences in importance, so that some of them come to shoulder the main responsibility, some become useless, and some even “malicious”—detrimental to the whole game. Whether a piece becomes a failure or success depends entirely on the player. One failed move may lead to a whole series of false moves. Therefore, each player must give careful consideration to the possible effects before placing any piece on one of the 361 bases.
In ancient China, weichi was called yi, or by two other words with the same English sound, but differing in Chinese—chi or chi, the former an old form of chi. The reason why the ideograph for chi contains the radical stone is because all weichi pieces were originally made of stone. The lower part of yi, is a pictograph indicating the use of a player’s two fingers to put a piece on the weichi board.
Who invented weichi in what era? Po Wu Chih of the Chin Dynasty (265-420) recorded that, “To inspire his son, Tan Chu, Emperor Yao invented weichi.” Though this declaration is not generally accepted by historians, there is fully reliable historical data to show that weichi has a history of more than two thousand years.
The term weichi first appeared in Tso Chuan, a commentary on the Spring and Autumn Annals authored by Tso Chiu-ming of the Chou Dynasty: “... players are unable to decide about a move in playing weichi... ”
It was 548 B.C., the 34th year of Emperor Ling of the Chou Dynasty, during the Spring and Autumn Period, 30 years before Confucius began his lectures and affected all of China for all time. Somewhat later, Confucius’ disciple Mencius commented on the story of Yi Chiu, who taught the art of weichi. Mencius compared participation in the game to engaging in scholarship.
Hsi Ching Tsa Chi, authored by Wu Chun of the Liang Dynasty, 464-569, a miscellany concerning the periods before and after Emperor Wu of the Han Dynasty, notes the following event: “Tu Ling was a matchless weichi player. Once he was derided for spending days playing at the game; he rebutted the attack in these words: An excellent command of weichi is beneficial to Confucianism.’” It is a pity that this notation did not identify Tu Ling, or the date of the exchange.
During the Eastern Han Dynasty (25-219), Ma Rong (79-166), a learned scholar, the magistrate of Nanchun Prefecture during the reign of Emperor Huan, and later a consultant to the Emperor, described weichi strategy. His words may be loosely translated: “At the beginning of the game, one must first occupy the four corners of the board. Occasionally, one can leap some space and develop his game in the center of the board. Intensive consideration is necessary if one is to foresee the situation for later moves. In this way, one can win the game.”
Pan Ku, who completed the History of the Han Dynasty, begun by his father during the eastern Han Dynasty, also wrote an article on weichi, entitled Yi Chih (A Guide to Weichi). In the article, he presents his views on design of the weichi board and pieces: According to ancient Chinese views of the universe, the sky was round and the earth square. The square weichi board was a symbol of the square earth. The straight lines, horizontal and vertical, represented divinities. The gods being upright, the straight lines on the board properly represented the gods’ activities on the earth. The black and white stones represented the universe and yin and yang.
Judging from this interpretation, the literati of the Eastern Han Dynasty were divided on the nature of weichi and its utensils. Ma Rong, noting both techniques and principles, cautioned players not to be greedy. He also extended the art of weichi to the art of war. As for Pan Ku, he saw symbolic meaning in the weichi utensils from the vantage of the cosmology of the Han Dynasty.
Although Pan Ku detailed the symbolic meaning of the board of his day, he did not bother to mention the number of lines thereon. But according to other records, we see that during the Han Dynasty, the weichi board was divided by 17 lines, horizontal and vertical. During the Tang Dynasty, the number was 18. A board with 19 lines came into use during the Sung Dynasty, and that has not changed to this day. Records clearly identify the weichi board designs characteristic of the abovementioned periods, and their claims are solidified by unearthed boards from past centuries.
There is an order of decorum, observed and enjoyed
A stone weichi board of the Eastern Han Dynasty, discovered at Wangtu in Hopei Province, is 14 cm in height and 14 cm in length, and divided by 17 lines horizontally and vertically. A porcelain board excavated at Anyang in Honan Province is 4 cm in height and 1.2 cm in length, and divided by 19 lines. The number of lines on a Tang Dynasty wooden weichi board, unearthed in Hsinkiang Province, is also 19.
During the Han Dynasty (206 B.C.-220 A.D.), weichi was popular among women as well as men. However, Chia Yi (200-168 B.C.), a writer and political commentator, thought this was “without regard for common propriety” and declared that “weichi should be blamed for this breach of etiquette.”
During the reign of the Han Emperor Kaotzu, his concubine, Chi, sought guidance via divination by playing weichi. Her maid, Chi a Pei-lang, later revealed, “When I was in the palace, every year on the fourth day of August, she would go to a bamboo grove and play weichi with someone. The winner was supposed to be lucky the whole year round; the loser would be hounded by illness. However, if the latter held a piece of long silk in hand and prayed to the (Big Dipper) constellation on bended knees, he would be saved.”
Tsao Tsao, ruler-in-fact of the Kingdom of Wei during the Three Kingdoms Period (222-265), excelled at the game. Feng Yi-shan, Wang Chiu-chen, and Kuo Kai were his constant weichi companions. A famous story notes that when Tsao sent troops to assasinate Kung Rong (153-208), prime minister of Peihai during the reign of Emperor Hsien (who showed his talent for weichi while he was a child), Kung’s nine-year-old son and seven-year-old daughter were playing weichi. When advised to escape, they are reported to have replied with great composure: “When the nest is overturned, no whole eggs will be left.” They were executed later.
In San Kuo Yen Yi (The Romance of the Three Kingdoms), by Lo Kuan-chung, one of the greatest of Chinese classics, the following story is recorded: “While Kuan Yu (219, a general of the Period of Three Kingdoms, deified by later generations as China’s god of war) was playing weichi with Ma Liang, the famous and legendary doctor, Hua To, was using a knife to scrape the poison from the bone of Kuan Yu’s arm, which had been struck by an arrow. Although those watching the weichi game in the campaign tent lost their color, Kuan Yu remained cheerful and composed.”
A report of Hsieh An’s (320-385) weichi game during the Chin Dynasty, has become a favorite tale. When Fu Chien, leading a great concentration of troops, arrived at the Fei River, the whole populace of the capital of eastern Chin panicked. Eastern Chin Emperor Hsiaowu then designated Hsieh An as general in charge of the operation to subjugate the Fu Chien troops. Hsieh An, then, ordered his nephew, Hsieh Hsuan (343-388), to meet the enemy in battle. But when Hsieh Hsuan asked about the· strategy to employ against the enemy, his uncle, busy playing weichi, replied casually, “Don’t worry about it.” When the news came later that Hsieh Hsuan had won the battle, Hsieh An was still composedly playing the game.
There was also such a story from the Northern Wei Dynasty (386-534): One day when Emperor Shihtzu was playing weichi with Liu Shu, Ku Pi, a Minister, came in to make a report. But since the Emperor was concentrating on the game, he did not notice the official. The latter, infuriated, approached Li Shu and gave him a sound whack, shouting, “You should be responsible for the poor administration of the nation!” The Emperor, embarrassed, replied, “I should listen to your report.”
Later, during the Period of the Southern Dynasties (420-589) weichi grew more popular. Since the dynastic rulers encouraged the propagation of the art, weichi experts such as Wang Kang, Chu Ssu-chuang, Hsia Chih-sung, and Yang Huan-pao became widely known. Wang Kang once played weichi, gambling for a city with Emperor Wenti. On winning, Wang became magistrate of Hsuan City. — This story differs as recorded in Sung Shu, and Nan Shih. During this period of Chinese history, weichi players were ranked in nine pin (grades): shenju, tsochao, chuti, tungyu, yungchih, hsiaochiao, touli, jeyu, and shoucho.
During the Southern Dynasties Period, Emperor Ming of the Sung Dynasty, Emperors Kao and Ming of the Chi Dynasty, and Emperor Wu of the Liang Dynasty all excelled at weichi.
During the Tang Dynasty (618-907), the formal title chi tai chao, was given to an official who accompanied the Emperor solely to play weichi. Marking the beginning of government promotion of the game, Emperor Taitzung of the Tang Dynasty chose Chia Hsian as his chi tai chao.
Before Emperor Hsuantzung became the ruler of the Tang Dynasty, he often played weichi with Japanese monks. Although not regarded as a good player, he seldom lost a game because his concubine, Yang Yu-huan, would purposely upset the chessboard when she saw he was losing.
An ancient painting entitled Ming Huang Hui Chi Tu (Emperor Hsuantzung Playing Weichi) is in the collection of the National Palace Museum in suburban Taipei. On it, Emperor Chienlung (1736-1796) of the Ching Dynasty has written two seven-character, four-line verses. However, there is no beautiful concubine in the painting.
During the Sung Dynasty (960-1279), Emperor Taitzung named at least five officials to play weichi with him-Pan Shen-hsiu, Sung Pai, Hsu Hsuan, Wang Yu-cheng, and Chia Hsuan. Pan Shen-hsiu was particularly in the Emperor’s good graces.
During the reign of Emperor Shen-tzung of the Sung Dynasty, Prime Minister Wang An-shih (1021-1086) was a determined weichi player despite the fact that he was often dubbed “a loser of the board.” Whenever he saw he was going to lose a game, he would announce, “I thought this game would make me forget my cares and worries. Instead, it only makes me more anxious.” In other words, he was asking his rival to end the game before the debacle.
One day when Emperor Ming of the Yuan Dynasty (1271-1368) and a cabinet minister, Yu Chi, were confronting each other at weichi, the Emperor asked Yu: “It is generally believed that the ruler of a country should not engage in this art, is that right’?” Yu replied: “There must be a purpose or reason for the sages to have invented weichi. Therefore, Confucius once said that he who knew the art could be regarded as a person of wisdom and ability.... Besides, the strategies for defense and offense in weichi can be applied to government administration or to war. Therefore, encouragement of the art should aid the people in developing vigilance in peacetime.”
The black and white buttons—all of the same shape-and the straightforward board are deceptive symbols of a very complicated game
Most of Yu Chi’s guests were weichi players. On one occasion, he was confronted: “Didn’t Emperor Yao invent weichi? Everyone knows that his two sons were good-for-nothings. Then why did Yao teach them how to play weichi instead of teaching them the true meaning of justice and virtue’?” Yu responded in detail: “The art of weichi is a symbol of the phenomenon of the round sky and the square earth, the theory of yin’s static state and yang’s activities, the order of the distribution of stars, the cause of a changeable situation, the absolute power to spare and kill, and the might of a nation. The principles of weichi also imply the occurrences in human life. Only the wise are able to keep (so complex a) situation well in hand-defending with benevolence, moving with justice, arranging with courtesy, and understanding with wisdom. Weichi should not be considered an ordinary pastime.”
Lake Mochou, located in suburban Nanking, is said to be named for a girl of the Six Dynasties. Along the bank of the lake is the Huayen Temple, and within its complex is a pavilion called Shengchi (Winning at Weichi). It is said that during the Ming Dynasty, Emperor Taitzu once played weichi here with Hsu Ta, and that the Emperor lost the game and the lake to Hsu. Later, Lu Shan Chiao Ke wrote a poem about it:
The affairs of the world are like weichi,
In which one clever move may
win domain forever.
If tender affection is like
the flow of a stream,
When will the vitality of
the Six Dynasties wane?
During the reign of Emperor Wanli (1573-1619), weichi masters appeared in large numbers. According to Wang Shih-chen’s Yi Chih (A Guide to Weichj), the period’s famous weichi players were devotees of three different methodologies: the Yungchia School, the Anhui School, and the Chingshih School.
Chang Chao discerned a relationship between weichi and nature in his Yu Meng Ying (the Shadow of A Quiet Dream): “Rainy spring days are appropriate for reading, rainy summer days for playing weichi, rainy autumnal days for storing the harvest, and the rainy days of winter for sipping wine.”
Weichi remained in great vogue during the Ching Dynasty (1644-1911). During the reign of Emperor Kuanghsu, Wang Tsun-shan’s Chi Ching Hsia Kuan Yi Hsuan (weichi manuals), listed 83 famous weichi master players; more than nine hundred recorded games are included.
In the early Ching period, Kuo Pai-ling, Sheng Ta-yu, and Wu Jui-cheng ranked as the foremost weichi masters. During the reign of Emperor Kanghsi, the title of supreme weichi player fell to Huang Shih-lung, who at 18 established a record by beating master Sheng Ta-yu in seven successive games. Since other masters-such as Chou Tung-hou, Ho An-kung, Lou Tzu-heng, and Hsieh Yu-yu—were not his competitors, Huang was awarded the title “Expert among Weichi Experts.”
During his later years, Expert Huang Shih-lung met master Hsu Hsing-yu, a new star of the weichi universe. It was reported that after ten games, victory still hung in the balance. A log of the games, Hsieh Lei Pien (Games of Tears and Blood), still exists today. It was really a gruelling match.
Victor Hsu Hsing-yu then dominated the weichi world for three decades before finally falling to young Cheng Lan-ju, in his later years. Indignant at his fall, he chose from then on to live in seclusion, concentrating on writing. He authored the Chienshantang Manual, the first book on weichi that includes detailed comment.
After Hsu Hsing-yu, such talents as Cheng Lan-ju, Liang Wei-chin, Fan Hsi-ping, and Shih Hsiang-hsia all came to the fore.
The art of weichi reachead its peak during the reigns of Emperors Kanghsi and Chienlung. From that period until after the beginning of the Republic in 1911, no new talent could be discerned. It is said that in the early days of the Republic, a Japanese 5th duan (grade) weichi player, Takabe Tohei, came to China, and that no one in China was able to beat him. Disappointed, he sighed and exclaimed, “Today, the best weichi players of China rank only in the first grade.”
Determined to help reinvigorate Chinese weichi, Honinbo Tosaku, on seven separate visits to Peking, publicized new Japanese weichi methodology. He succeeded in his task, contributing immensely to the growth of modern Chinese weichi skills.
Today, Japan enjoys the prestige of being a “Weichi Kingdom,” the fruits of her establishment of a Weichi Academy, game rules, and tournament systems, and reflecting her special training of new talent more than 300 hundred years ago during the Tokugawa Bakufu period.
When talking about weichi in modern China, we cannot do so without thinking of Wu Ching-yuan and Lin Hai-feng. In 1928, when Wu was 15, he was sent to Japan for further training. As a result of his natural endowments and efforts, in a short period of time, Wu achieved great successes, rolling back Japanese weichi competitors as he would a mat. His skill was described as being like a “heavenly steed soaring across the skies, flawless;” he was acclaimed by Japanese weichi circles as an “extraordinary talent,” match less for all time. Weichi tournaments were sharply improved by Wu’s new ideas, such as his rule of tieh mu (giving compensatory points.)
Although a master of the ninth duan, Wu never won the supreme Japanese titles of meijin and honinbo. However, this never affected the respect accorded him in Japanese weichi circles.
In August of 1952, when Wu returned to Taiwan to accept the ROC title of “Grand Master,” Lin Hai-feng, 10, paid a formal call on him. The two played a game of weichi, and young Lin, allowed six moves in the public gaze, showed his talents to the fullest, a turning point in his life.
A year before, Lin’s father took him to meet the then chairman of the China Weichi Association, Ying Chang-chi, hoping that this master would take his son under his wing or assist in sending him to Japan. An “uncarved jade,” Lin Hai-feng needed a master hand for cut and polish. He was sent to Japan, where in the beginning, he was taught by the Chinese master Chu Jen-yi—drilled in the fundamental requirements to assure a profound knowledge in the field and an enveloping sense of morality.
At 23, Lin challenged Sakada Eihisa, then holding the title of meijin, and to everyone’s surprise, Lin became the new meijin. Three years later, in 1968, Lin earned the title of honinbo, following that triumph by again winning the meijin honors. Since that time, he has been known as a man “Eh Mei Yao” (with two waists) —in the Japanese idiom, unbeatable.
In anticipation of war, a peaceful pastime...
Fengtu, in Szechuan Province on the Chinese mainland, is the legendary mid- point where all spirits abide before continuing their journeys to Hell or Heaven. In a pavilion to one side of Yen Wang Tien (the Palace of Hell) at Fengtu, three life-size porcelain figures were long ago created to act out a famous folk story. Two, silting across a stone table, play at hsiang chi (Chinese chess); they are fairies. A boy standing by, eyes glued to the game, is supposed to be on his way home from selling homemade toufu in the market. In the story, the boy finally realizes he has spent too much time watching the game and is ready to go home, and a thousand years have passed.
Hsiang chi is a conqueror of Chinese minds-a constant challenge to those who pursue excitements of the intellect, and find them bountifully in a competition of wits via the expression of military strategies and tactics on a simple game board. It was once known as a gentle folk’s pastime; literary men and women often played. And it was for ages quite a common subject for gentle Chinese paintings. Along with musical performances, calligraphy, and painting, chess was indeed perceived as one of four mandatory methods to cultivate the intellect, facilitate the capability for total concentration, and nurture one’s sense of strategy—a proper route for intellectuals of the Imperial tradition.
Studying the board—The roles of the pieces are imprinted in Chinese calligraphy
It is now, however, also a “common people’s” pastime; in our own times, in the shadow of many a banyan tree in village parks and even on the sidewalks of busy business districts, we may stop and watch two mortal men sitting across a board, eyes fiercely glued to an array of chess pieces. We would not be alone. Around us would be other mesmerized passers-by, now adrift in time, staring at the chess game in complete silence, hoping to witness a display of wit—an intrigue of major proportions unfold in one flashy moment.
Hsiang chi and Western chess, according to some authorities, share a common ancestor in chaturanga, an Indian game of board warfare. Chaturanga literally refers to the four divisions of an Indian army, i.e., elephants, horses, chariots, and foot-soldiers. This ancient form of chess has been traced by historians as it spread to ancient Persia, Arabia, and European lands via the old Silk Road; it was introduced to China and Japan along with Buddhism in the years of the Tang Dynasty (A.D. 618-907).
The chess form that later became the popular Chinese game-in the later Sung Dynasty (A.D. 960-1279)—was dubbed hsiang chi, meaning either the “chess of elephants,” or the “chess of symbols,” depending on the context.
Some lay historians have speculated over the years that since hsiang chi represents symbolically so many different elements and aspects of the strictly Chinese world view, that it is an indigenous game, with nothing, or very little to do with the large, floppy-eared animal. In any case, hsiang chi’s resemblance to Western chess is undeniable, though Chinese concepts of power structures and of the universe do peek out on a hsiang chi board.
The almighty queen of Western chess is absent —A social comment?
Like Western chess, hsiang chi mimics warfare. On its board of 64 squares, armies of 16 units oppose each other. But the hsiang chi pieces are assigned to seven roles: a general (chiang), two aides (shih), two home militia units (hsiang), two chariot groups (chu), two cavalry units (ma), two field artillery batteries (pao), and five professional infantry units (tsu). This compares to the six roles in Western chess.
The general roughly corresponds to the king in Western chess, the infantry to pawns. The functions of the Western bishops, knights, and rooks are commonly shared by the five other roles in hsiang chi, while the almighty Western queen is conspicuously absent, possibly because of the subdued role of women in China’s early Imperial days. The power of the Chinese array, as compared to its Western counterpart, is more limited as a result of the differences.
As on the Western board, there are 64 squares in eight rows on the hsiang chi board. But unlike the Western board, the hsiang chi field is divided by a river, the Chu Ho, which runs through the center of the board, sharply dividing the two nations, Chu and Han. And while Western masters fight for strategic position on their boards, Chinese players deem it as important to conquer the enemy land and to prevent enemy incursions into the well-defined home ground. The Chinese antagonists are, therefore, more on the defensive, a specific element in the heightened intrigue of the Chinese version.
At the start of the game, hsiang chi pieces are placed in three rows at each end of the board, instead of the Western two. Along the first of the three, on the outer line, are deployed nine principal pieces; live light infantry units are deployed at the front near the river, and in between are two field artillery batteries, in support.
The freedom of movement of most hsiang chi pieces is more restricted than for their Western counterparts. Half of the Western pieces can move as far as they wish, providing no pieces block the way. But in hsiang chi, all pieces, excepting chariots, are limited.
The restricted freedom of movement is balanced to an extent by hsiang chi’s expanded ground. The hsiang chi pieces are placed on intersections of lines, instead of on squares, giving them more room for maneuvering. For example, the Western knight can only make 64 moves on a full tour of the board. But the Chinese cavalry unit can accomplish 90, nearly half as many more, because it rests on the intersections of the lines, not the area between.
The Chinese general and his two aides are billeted in a small castle, designated along the outer edge of the board by diagonal lines. The general is confined to horizontal and vertical movements within the castle; his aides are limited to diagonal movements in the same space. This limited mobility of the general and his aides allows them to play only feeble defensive roles. It also makes the protection of the homeground a pressing task.
The militia units, which flank the aides to each side, are committed almost exclusively to this task, as they move diagonally through the squares, back and forth within the “national territories” defined by the Chu Ho river. The task of defending their general is so important, that they are not allowed to cross into enemy territory.
The major combat roles are left to other pieces. A cavalry unit’s motion is similar to that of a Western knight—a straight move followed by a diagonal one. Chariots take the place of the rooks in the Western game, occupying the same positions on the board, and having the same moves. On the Chinese board, they are the most powerful pieces. The field artillery units have the same powers of movement as the Western bishops, but they operate in taking an intervening enemy piece, by leaping over the obstruction; they control the central battle theater of the game.
The infantry units must do or die, moving one space at a time forward, and never looking back. Their mission is to serve and not to expect rewards. So even when they charge through the enemy line, they cannot become heroes as they might in Western chess, where a pawn moving into the enemy’s farthest recesses may turn into, and thus free, an imprisoned queen, bishop, or other friendly pieces.
With no kings for a final round of confrontation, no transformable pawns, and a homeground to guard forever, hsiang chi’s warfare is more prolonged, requiring extended strategies and attention to a constant balance of power.
The ultimate goal of both forms of the game is to checkmate. The general, though always confined to his headquarters, is in check when no piece intervenes between him and an attacking general on the same straight line. But he cannot be captured, and like the Western king, cannot move into check.
Whether the art of hsiang chi reflects the character of the Chinese people is up for debate. In Chinese tradition, the greatest value of hsiang chi to those who play, is its utility in developing the powers of concentration and of sharpening wisdom, and in addition, inculcating certain moral principles. Notably, etiuette-spoqsmanship—at the chessboard is deemed more important than winning.
The term chi pin, or chessboard etiquette, has indeed become an equivalent, or metaphorical expression, for personal deportment within the various circum stances of life. The results demonstrate one’s moral self-cultivation—or lack of it. Any person regarded as being weak in chi pin draws the contempt of his peers.
Chinese chess now offers its benefits to the public at large as well as to intellectuals. Actually, hsiang chi has become so widely popular that chess terms have found their way into numerous colloquial expressions: “While the players may be confused, the sideline observers may see quite clearly” —an admonition to stop and seek impartial counsel from time to time. And: “An observer of hsiang chi who does not offer advice is a truly cultivated man; a player who never regrets a move completed is a great man.” Such aphorisms really reveal essences of chi pin, culminating in the warning, “One wrong application of chi in the play can lose the whole game.”
The ultimate sidewalk philosopher’s metaphor avows, “Life is like chi.”—Just as there is a harmony in life, achievable by such men as are in accord with their environments, so is there such natural harmony—balanced forces—attainable on the chessboard, awaiting discovery by deserving players. —BY KATHY WONG