Chapter 6 — No One Wants to Lose

Part II — Learning to Attack

"I won't let you play chess today," Nam Phong announced as soon as Lam Khe sat down at the familiar table near the window, making her look at him in surprise.

"If you don't play chess, what are you doing at the Chess Club?" she asked, a little confused.

"Learning theory," Nam Phong replied, taking out a stack of paper with a few chess positions printed on it, placing it on the table in front of her. "You're good at calculating defense because you've practiced it for countless years, almost instinctively. But attack also has its own principles, patterns that can be learned, not just relying on reckless intuition like you think of me."

Lam Khe looked at the stack of papers and saw chessboard diagrams with pieces marked with red arrows and a few handwritten notes next to them. "Did you do this yourself?"

"Yes, I prepared it last night," Nam Phong nodded, somewhat proud. "Starting with the most basic thing — pinning a piece. Do you know what pinning a piece is?"

"I know, but I only know in theory," Lam Khe admitted. "I rarely actively create pin situations in my games."

"Then today we're going to change that," Nam Phong said, pointing to the first diagram. "Look here, the white side's bishop is pinning the black knight to the black king. If the knight moves, the king will be directly checked, so that knight is almost paralyzed, unable to participate in defense or attack at all. This is the power of pinning the piece - no need to capture the piece immediately, just neutralizing the opponent is enough to create an advantage."

Lam Khe looked intently at the diagram, his mind automatically analyzing the next possibilities like an old habit. "So what if black tries to break the pin by sending another piece to cover?"

"Good question," Nam Phong smiled, clearly pleased with her acumen. "That's when the attacker has to calculate whether that pin is worth maintaining or if he should switch to exploiting another weakness. It's not always necessary to keep the pin until the end, sometimes it's just necessary to use it as a trap to lure the opponent into making another mistake."

They spent that afternoon going over each concept — pinning, forking, skewering, sacrificing a piece for the sake of the game. Lam Khe found herself understanding these concepts faster than she expected, perhaps because the solid computational foundation she had honed over the years had simply never been directed towards attack.

"You're a quick learner," Nam Phong commented after she correctly solved five consecutive math problems with a double-pointed horse. "To be honest, I'm a little jealous. When I first learned these concepts, it took me a month to master them."

"Maybe because I'm only good at the theoretical part, but applying it to real combat is another matter," Lam Khe said, his voice tinged with a familiar bit of self-deprecation.

"Let me check that now," Nam Phong said, packing up the stack of papers and instead setting out a real chess board. "This game, I set a condition — you must find at least one pin or fork opportunity in the first twenty moves. If you find it and execute it, I will buy you a bottle of orange juice from the canteen. If not, you have to pay for the drink yourself."

"Sounds like a bet," Lam Khe raised his eyebrows, although inside he was strangely excited at that gentle challenge.

"It's more accurate to call it motivation," Nam Phong grinned, starting to lay out his troops.

The match took place with a completely different atmosphere than before - lighter, more fun, although the concentration level of both remained unchanged. Lam Khe found herself constantly scanning the board not only looking for ways to defend but also proactively looking for potential offensive opportunities, a completely new experience for her.

On move fifteen, she saw an opportunity—Nam Phong's bishop happened to be in line with the rook behind him, and if she moved the queen to the right position, she could create a pin forcing him to choose between losing his bishop or losing his rook.

Her hand trembled slightly as she placed the queen on the chessboard, not because of fear as usual, but because of a completely different feeling of nervousness mixed with excitement.

"Oh," Nam Phong looked at the situation and laughed out loud. "You found out faster than I thought. Okay, a bottle of orange juice, I keep my promise."

Lam Khe looked at the chess situation in front of him, a small but genuine feeling of pride crept into his heart, different from the familiar feeling of relief after each safe draw. This is the feeling of actively creating something, not simply preventing something bad from happening.

The game continued, and although Lam Khe eventually returned to her familiar defensive style of play in the endgame, ending in another draw, she no longer felt as disappointed as before. This time, she knew she had done something new, a small but real step forward.

"You see," Nam Phong said as they tidied up the board, "I never told you to win immediately. I just wanted you to try to create opportunities, whether you took full advantage of them or not. That's already a step forward."

"Thank you," Lam Khe said, and this time the thank you had a different tone than before — no longer a courtesy, but a sincere gratitude.

On the way to the cafeteria to receive the promised orange juice reward, the two of them walked side by side, the atmosphere between them was much more comfortable than in the first cautious days. Nam Phong told her about his journey to chess - starting from watching his grandfather play Chinese chess in the park, then accidentally being introduced to international chess by a friend in sixth grade, and from then on he was infatuated and couldn't stop.

"My grandfather passed away when I was in eighth grade," Nam Phong said, his voice lowering a bit. "He was the one who taught me my first chess moves, even if it was just Chinese chess. Sometimes I think, every time I play boldly on the chessboard, I'm playing for the part he never dared to try when he was young, because he once said he always regretted living too safely his whole life."

Lam Khe listened silently, realizing there was something unexpected in common between them - they both carried the shadow of a predecessor in the way they viewed the chess board, even though in two completely opposite directions.

"What about you?" Nam Phong asked, glancing at her. "Who first taught you how to play chess?"

Lam Khe paused slightly at that question, feeling the thin line between sharing and having to face a memory she was not ready to fully tell. "My father," she replied briefly, not going any further, and Nam Phong, as if sensing that hesitation, did not ask anything more, just nodded slightly and changed the topic.

They went to the canteen, bought a bottle of orange juice as promised, and sat down at an empty table near the window. Late in the afternoon, the cafeteria was almost deserted, only the steady sound of the ceiling fan spinning and the late sunlight shining through the glass window.

"Thank you for today," Lam Khe said, twirling the orange juice bottle in her hand. "I think this is the first time I've found learning chess to be so fun, unlike the feeling of having to endure it like before."

"That's because chess is inherently fun," Nam Phong replied, a warm smile appearing on his face. "It's just that sometimes people let fear cover that joy. But don't worry, I won't let that happen to you again."

Lam Khe looked at him, a warm feeling spreading in her heart that she could not yet name, only knowing that this afternoon, for the first time in a long time, she felt like she was truly enjoying chess in its true sense — not as a test to pass safely, but as a game truly worth exploring.

"Hey," Nam Phong suddenly spoke up after a comfortable silence, "I have a suggestion. From now until the end of next week, at every activity, I will give you a small tactical exercise to take home. It's not much, just three or four chess positions, so you can get used to seeing opportunities to attack even when there's no one sitting next to remind you."

"Like homework for chess?" Lam Khe asked, unable to hide her amusement.

"Exactly," Nam Phong nodded seriously, although his eyes still sparkled mischievously. "You're a good student. You'll definitely do your homework better than most of the club members I've taught."

"Are you being sarcastic or praising me?" she asked again, raising her eyebrows.

"Both," Nam Phong laughed loudly, making Lam Khe unable to help but laugh, a comfortable, natural laugh, not at all forced like the first days they met.

They sat for a while longer in the cafeteria, talking about things unrelated to chess — about the movie Nam Phong they had just watched over the weekend, about the novel Lam Khe they were reading, and about the exam pressure of twelfth grade that was gradually weighing on them both. The conversation flowed so naturally that Lam Khe was startled when she looked at her watch and realized she had stayed much longer than planned.

"I have to go home," she said, standing up, a little regretful in her heart even though she couldn't say it out loud.

"Yeah, see you on Thursday," Nam Phong replied, also standing up, picking up two empty orange juice bottles. "Remember to bring the strategy exercise I just assigned, I'll check it."

"What club leader is so strict," Lam Khe pretended to complain, but inside he felt happy because there was something concrete to look forward to for the next meeting.

On the way home, she took out her phone and took pictures of a few of the chess positions Nam Phong had given her, silently vowing to spend time tonight to solve them all, not because she was forced, but because she was truly curious to see how much progress she could make.