9. I’ve been thinking: why has God cursed me with this disease? Perhaps it’s because I know too many secrets. It’s funny really — now that I have no mouth I can talk about these things. Before, when I had a mouth, I couldn’t.
10. I don’t wish to carry these secrets to my grave: I want to die in peace. In my next life I want to be a normal, average person. I don’t want glory, I don’t want secrets, I don’t want friends or enemies.
11. Don’t lie to me, I know how sick I am. The cancer has already spread: I have maybe a few months left.
12. You don’t want to say goodbye to a person about to die, that’s bad luck. Go, I wish you a happy and peaceful life!
* This is a reference to how Liseiwicz later became involved in extremist politics. † This is a reference to the circumstances which resulted in X country putting Liseiwicz and his wife under house arrest.
A few months later, I heard that she underwent open skull surgery and a few months after that I heard that she had died. Supposedly, in her last will and testament she mentioned me — hoped that I wouldn’t use their real names in the book I was writing; she and her husband wanted to rest in peace. In this book, the names Fan Lili and Liseiwicz are aliases. Even though this goes against the criteria I had set for writing — really, what could I do? An old person, whose fate had been full of frustrations and dashed hopes, who had loved so deeply and passionately, whose last will and testament spoke of a desire to be left in peace — because their life had been so difficult, how could I not respect their wishes!
5
I should talk about Yan Shi.
It was perhaps true that Yan Shi had initially attempted to push Rong Jinzhen to one side; he had deliberately tried to create estrangement between himself and everyone else in Unit 701. After his retirement, he no longer lived within the confines of the unit; instead, he had moved with his daughter to the capital of G province. The high-speed expressway had made the distance between there and A City quite short, and so I arrived in the provincial capital just three hours after leaving Unit 701. Even better, I had little difficulty in locating the daughter’s home and thus seeing Yan Shi.
He was as I imagined him. Sporting a pair of thick-lensed nearsighted spectacles, he was already well over seventy; indeed, much closer to eighty. His hair was luminous silver and his eyes carried deceit and secrets within them. In short, he was completely devoid of the benevolence and grace expected of old men. As my visit was rushed, I had come upon him seated in front of a Go table; his right hand was deftly manoeuvring a set of resplendent meditation balls while his left grasped a white Go stone; he was deep in thought. But there was no opponent seated opposite him — he was playing against himself. Yes, playing against himself — like speaking to one’s self; like some tragic and lonely old fool still holding onto great aspirations. His granddaughter, a fifteen-year-old high-school student, told me that since his retirement it was hard to pry him away from the game. Every day he whiled away the hours either playing Go or reading books on it. He had become quite skilled at it, so much so that it was now hard for him to find an opponent. All he could do was rely upon his Go books to satisfy his addiction.
Haven’t you heard? Playing chess against one’s self is actually like playing against a famous exponent.
A full table of Go was what triggered our conversations. Full of pride, he would tell me of the benefits of Go: how it could drive away loneliness, how it exercised the brain, nourished the soul and extended one’s life. After relating to me the many advantages of playing Go, he summed it all up by saying that his love of the game was actually an occupational hazard. ‘With respect to those working in cryptography, our collective fate is naturally tied up with the various games of chess — especially those with commonplace lives. Finally they will all be seduced by the art of chess, just like pirates and drug pushers are seduced by their own wares. It is just like how some people become interested in good works in their old age.’
That was how he explained it. His analogy allowed me to picture some form of reality, but. . ‘Why did you emphasize a commonplace life?’ I asked.
Mulling it over for a moment, he said, ‘In the case of very talented cryptanalysts, you could say that their passion and intellect is expressed through their work. In other words, their genius is used — by themselves and by their work. A soul spent in such explosive fashion tends toward the peaceful, the contemplative; it lacks the stress of having to repress oneself; it lacks anxiety about withering away. Without such pressure, naturally there is no desire to unburden one’s heart. Such people do not anxiously crave a new life. Therefore, for most geniuses, their later years are filled with memories; they listen attentively to the beauty of their own voice. But for those with commonplace lives, it is different. Those of talent, members of the inner circle, would refer to us as the fairer sex. It meant that we possessed elements of genius, but could never perform such work. We spent our years searching, feeling oppressed — filled with talent but never able to truly demonstrate it, to release it. For this kind of person their later years possesses no memories of glory; there is nothing to sum up. What are they to do in their so-called golden years? Only what they have done their whole lives: they continue to search in vain for something to do, unconsciously trying to find some way to put their abilities to use; enacting the ultimate and final struggle. This is the meaning of my infatuation with chess, the first meaning. The second meaning — well, if you look at it from another point of view, geniuses put in an enormous amount of time assiduously studying, pouring their hearts out, aiming to pass through an incredibly narrow path in order to reach the peak, and even if their hearts contained some other desire, a wish to do something else, they cannot: the path their minds are to traverse has been set, they cannot be torn away from it [his use of the word ‘torn’ filled me with a sense of horror, as if my whole spirit had been taken hold of by some unknown force]. Their minds, their mental powers, were already unable to move in a natural and unrestrained manner: they could only move forward, marching ever deeper along that same narrow path. Do you know the roots of madness? Genius and madness issue forth from the same track; both are brought about by bewitchment. Would you fancy playing a game of chess with them in their old age? Impossible, because they can’t!’
In a slightly halting voice, he continued, ‘I’ve always believed genius and madness are two sides of the same coin: they are like your left and right hands, both reaching out from this human body of ours, only they are walking different paths. In mathematics, there are positive infinities and negative infinities; in a sense, you could say that a genius is a positive infinity whilst a madman or a fool would represent a negative infinity. But in mathematics, both positive and negative infinities are still infinites: numbers without end. Therefore I’ve often thought that one day, when this human race of ours reaches a certain point of advanced development, perhaps the madman will become like the genius: a man of outstanding talent, a wise and able individual capable of making contributions to society that astound one and all. Of course, I needn’t speak of anything else, just ciphers. Imagine for a moment if we were able to march the same road as the madman (which is really no road at all) and devise a cipher; then it goes without saying that there would be no one capable of deciphering it. Actually, developing ciphers is a sort of madman’s work, it pulls you close to insanity and to genius. Or you could put it the other way round: in terms of composition, genius and insanity are made from the same stuff. It’s really surprising! Thus, I’ve never discriminated against madmen. I believe that perhaps, somewhere buried in their insanity, lies something to be treasured, something that we just can’t get at, at least for the moment. They are like a secret cache of mineral resources, waiting for us to extract them.’