Chapter 1 – He’s a Loser

Gu Yiming lost again.

Since the ISSF adjusted the competition rules, even when Gu Yiming entered the finals with the top qualification score, he never made it past the second round. The new elimination rule was fatal for someone like him, who was used to making comebacks. Over the past two years, across more than ten major domestic and international competitions, Gu Yiming had never placed higher than seventh. The most terrifying thing was that his first shot in the finals was deteriorating year by year—from 8.9 to 5.7. His most recent cup performance had been so disastrous it was almost laughable. The moment he stepped off the firing point, not just him, not just his coach, but every teammate and opponent who had once paid attention to Gu Yiming understood the bottleneck this former prodigy had hit.

Precision pistol shooting is all about control, especially in events like 10m air pistol, where the requirements are the most stringent. Every rise and fall of the chest, every heartbeat, every tremor in the arm muscles—even the pulse affecting trigger squeeze as blood pumps from the heart to the fingers—must all be under control.

Gu Yiming used to be the best at this. His official debut in the adult division was at the National Championships. In the 10m air pistol finals, Gu Yiming started slow with an 8.9, followed by a 9.6 on the second shot. From the third shot onward, every score was above 10.3, and with astonishing consistency, he secured his first national championship title. Back then, Gu Yiming was just 16, a complete novice with almost no competition experience. Sports journalists even joked that his slow start was because he’d forgotten to take a sighting shot.

Over the next year, through both accumulated effort and sheer luck, Gu Yiming swept through domestic competitions like a force of nature, frequently taking gold medals. He even earned several medals in his secondary event, the 50m pistol, and was directly promoted from the Zhejiang Provincial Team to the national A team roster as a reserve talent for the new Olympic cycle. It was also around this time that Gu Yiming began competing internationally. He secured the top spot in the selection trials for the Asian Airgun Championships training squad under the 60-shot rule and entered the training base to prepare.

That year’s Asian Airgun Championships was the first under the new rules. Following ISSF requirements, the organizing committee implemented the new regulations—qualification scores were reset for the finals, and elimination was based on the lowest performer. Gu Yiming entered the finals with the top qualification score but was eliminated in the first round, finishing in eighth place. For a first-time competitor, this result wasn’t too bad. Though it fell short of expectations, the training squad’s coaching staff didn’t hold it against him.

However, after intensive training, at the following year’s World Cup Madrid leg, Gu Yiming placed eighth again. In the next two legs of the cup, he participated in both and also competed in a pistol finals, finishing seventh once and eighth twice. At the World Cup Final, Gu Yiming qualified for the air pistol event based on his accumulated points from the three legs—but was still eliminated in eighth place. Almost every time, Gu Yiming entered the finals with a stunning qualification score of 585 or higher over 60 shots, only to fire an astonishingly poor first shot in the finals, then suffer a crushing defeat in the first elimination round after two three-shot series.

By the year-end Asian Championships and the first leg of this year’s World Cup, followed by the National Championships and the University Shooting Championships, which had also updated their rules per ISSF requirements, Gu Yiming’s performance had declined even further. He failed to qualify for the finals in the Asian Championships, the World Cup, and the National Championships, and at the University Championships, where he barely scraped through the qualifiers, he only managed eighth place.

The growing pains from the rule changes affected everyone, most notably in the average finals score for air pistol champions dropping from 10.3 to 10.0. But Gu Yiming’s situation was far worse. The shooting team’s head coach held multiple talks with him, psychological support resources were allocated to him, and even his assistant coach was replaced.

None of it worked.

At the fourth leg of the ISSF World Cup in Azerbaijan, Gu Yiming was once again eliminated in the first round of the finals.

Qin Shan tried to comfort him, “Xiao Gu, don’t overthink it. When you get back, take a couple of months to chat with Coach Zhu, alright? It’s fine.”

This was the first day of the World Cup training squad’s return to their provincial teams. Because shooting teams require that athletes are held accountable for their firearms, the procedures for leaving and returning are particularly complicated. Qin Shan, as the pistol event coach assigned to the shooting training squad by the Shooting Sports Center, did a headcount when the squad disbanded and realized Gu Yiming was the only one missing. He searched the dormitory but couldn’t find him, so he headed to the training hall—and sure enough, Gu Yiming was there, organizing his equipment. When Gu Yiming handled his gun, he was eerily still, like a shadow or a distant mountain.

Qin Shan watched him for a while, then sighed. Shooting competitions are inherently unpredictable—among top-tier athletes, technical superiority is almost negligible, and it all comes down to mentality. If your form is off, last year’s world champion might not even make it to this year’s World Cup finals, let alone with the new finals rules acting as an obstacle. Qin Shan had experienced rule changes during his own competitive career and knew how much they could affect performance. Gu Yiming was diligent and talented, but at the pinnacle of any sport, diligence and talent are never in short supply. Between individuals, the difference often comes down to a stroke of luck.

Perhaps hearing Qin Shan’s sigh, Gu Yiming looked up and smiled at him. Qin Shan noticed Gu Yiming had been wearing earplugs during training and that when he unloaded the air cylinder and set his gun down, the muzzle was always pointed at the target—his procedure was impeccable. Air pistols, with their shorter range and lower lethality compared to cartridge firearms, sometimes led young athletes from local teams to slack off on safety protocols once they confirmed the gun was unloaded, and coaches often turned a blind eye. But Gu Yiming never cut corners. When the Zhejiang Provincial Team recommended him, they said he was their most meticulous athlete.

Qin Shan had been following Gu Yiming since his U17 days with the Zhejiang Provincial Team and could tell Gu Yiming genuinely loved shooting—the kind of wholehearted devotion where everything was poured into the sport, like athletes from the last century. In other sports, such dedication might be a good thing, but in shooting, it was hard to say. Still, heaven rewards diligence—if the rules hadn’t changed, he might have already climbed to the top and stood on the highest podium.

But there was no point dwelling on that now. Competitive sports are brutal—prodigies who shine briefly are neither rare nor missed.

Gu Yiming approached Coach Qin. “Coach, I’d like to take a trip to clear my head.”

Qin Shan was taken aback. Gu Yiming had been with the Zhejiang Provincial Team for nearly four years, plus these past few years with the national team’s training squad. Outside of returning home for holidays and statutory breaks, he had never taken leave voluntarily. Remembering Gu Yiming’s recent performances, Qin Shan understood and replied, “That’s fine. Zhu Haibing mentioned you’ve accumulated all your unused leave. I’ll have him approve a leave slip for you later. Are you joining this year’s winter training?”

Gu Yiming nodded, then shook his head. “Haven’t decided.”

“Then,” Qin Shan calculated mentally, “take a month off first. Go home, travel—do whatever you want. Adjust your mindset and come back in November for winter training.”

Shooting competitions are mostly held in spring, summer, and autumn. This year, Gu Yiming only participated in two legs of the World Cup—one where he didn’t make the finals and another where he placed eighth. His points weren’t enough for the Grand Finals, and he didn’t qualify for the Asian Airgun Championships through the selection trials either. That meant his competitive season was effectively over. Based on his performance this year, Gu Yiming shouldn’t have qualified for the national team’s winter training—he should have had to compete in the selection trials. Qin Shan’s offer was an act of mercy, giving Gu Yiming a discretionary spot.

Gu Yiming knew Qin Shan was looking out for him. He thanked him sincerely but felt nothing inside—no joy, no sorrow. Shooters know their own competitive state best, and for nearly a year, Gu Yiming had known the outcome before even stepping onto the platform. He wasn’t surprised or upset—even the self-blame he felt facing his coaches and teammates had become routine.

He was empty.

Qin Shan was a coach from the Shooting Sports Center. With his approval, Gu Yiming also informed Zhu Haibing, the Zhejiang Provincial Team’s head coach who had come to pick up the training squad. Zhu Haibing granted the leave without hesitation, reminding Gu Yiming to return in November for winter training and urging him to perform well in next year’s selection trials. Gu Yiming didn’t promise outright, only saying he’d do his best. Both Qin Shan and Zhu Haibing knew that, based on Gu Yiming’s results over the past year, accumulating enough points to qualify for cup competitions and championships would be difficult. Gu Yiming knew it too. He just had no other options—discretionary spots were a one-time favor. If his form didn’t improve, the day winter training ended would be the day Gu Yiming left the national team.

Gu Yiming handed in his leave slip and returned his gun and firearm license. He didn’t go back to the dormitory—he didn’t even pack his things before abruptly leaving the Shooting Sports Center. Zhu Haibing had offered to drive him, but since Gu Yiming didn’t know where he wanted to go, Zhu Haibing dropped him off at Bajiao subway station instead.

Gu Yiming had spent plenty of time in Beijing before but had always stayed with the training squad. Other than team-organized dinners, this was the first time he’d left the shooting range purely for vacation. Because air pistols couldn’t pass security checks, shooting teams usually avoided public transport for competitions and training. Standing in front of the ticket machine, staring at the unfamiliar subway map sprawling like a centipede on the screen, Gu Yiming realized he had nowhere to go.

He picked a direction at random, first wandering through men’s clothing stores in Guomao, then transferring to Line 4 to New Zhongguan, where he bought a last-minute ticket to a nonsensical horror movie. When he left the theater, drifting aimlessly with the crowd, he felt hollow to the core.

This is boring…

He thought. But what was interesting? His gun was no longer his pride and joy. His refuge had been destroyed—the floodwaters had surged from within. Hiding behind his results to avoid socializing had lost its meaning. Everything here—the neon lights overhead, the bustling streets around him—seemed like necessities for integrating into society, yet none of it felt relevant to him. Gu Yiming stood blankly in a corner outside the cinema, like a lost golden retriever.

Next door, at a juice bar, a loudspeaker kept looping the line, “What replaces dreams can only be reluctant compromises.” Gu Yiming listened for a while, then turned and bought an iced lemon tea at the counter. While the staff was scooping ice, he asked about the background music.

*Anhe Bridge*.

Chewing on his straw, Gu Yiming fell into thought. He’d seen this song title on his roommate’s playlist—and there was a subway station in Beijing with the same name.