"Did you miscalculate a move?" Eld was silent for half a day, then suddenly asked the young man sitting opposite: "Your move is clever but not quite skillful."
The young man opposite did not answer, but steadily maneuvered the last black pawn to the eighth square: "Checkmate."
His voice wasn't loud, but it felt like the cigar Arthur had just lit, making people frown involuntarily.
The gentlemen watching around had already lowered their heads to exchange looks. Some covered their mouths, some coughed, and some simply raised their hands to rub their temples. It was obvious that, although they weren't the ones playing chess, even the observers couldn't help but feel embarrassed for Eld.
Arthur found it amusing and couldn't help but lower his voice to ask the old gentleman beside him: "How many rounds have they played?"
"Less than half an hour, but it's already the third round." The old gentleman shook his head and said: "Three to zero, Mr. Carter was shaved bald."
