In a corner of East Cross Street stands a prestigious literary society, where members are either engrossed in …
In a corner of East Cross Street stands a prestigious literary society, where members are either engrossed in reading and copying manuscripts or creating brilliant essays with inspired strokes. Yet amidst this bustling hub of scholars, a young boy stands out like a sore thumb. Sitting alone at a wooden table, his gaze fixed on the chessboard before him, he remains as motionless as a rock on a mountain peak. What could he be thinking?