One hundred fifteen, conjecture
In the study room, filled with an ancient charm, wisps of blue smoke rose, and the aroma of tea permeated the room.
Luo Qianyu gave a wry smile as he tossed the chess piece back into the box, "Lost again, I'm done. Old man, can't you just let me win once?" He always thought his chess skills weren't bad, but whenever he faced his own father, he only had to accept defeat.
Luo Xiuran, with a chuckle, picked up the teacup beside him and lightly sipped, saying, "If you're capable, beat me with your own skills. You aren't a child anymore, wanting me to let you win is just shameful!"
"Dad, you're the Chess King, how can I possibly be your match!" Luo Qianyu said with a flattering smile.