Chapter 11 – Oops

On the way from Namtso to Lhasa, Tang Shao kept playing *Back to Lhasa*, and Gu Yiming’s mind was filled with the endless laughter of the girls in the song. Unable to bear it any longer, he asked, “Are you from Lhasa?”

Tang Shao lifted his chin proudly. “Spiritual homeland, understand?”

Gu Yiming didn’t understand.

He stayed in Lhasa for three days. Though he enjoyed the fresh local customs, he didn’t find Lhasa any more fun than the places they’d visited earlier. He liked Chaka Salt Lake, Dunhuang, and even the small town where they’d been stranded overnight due to a sandstorm. But later, when Fang Xiao adapted to the altitude and started going out with them, Gu Yiming gradually grew fond of Lhasa too.

Gu Yiming particularly liked Norbulingka. He could spend half an hour just watching the monkeys. Tang Shao, who found zoos boring no matter where they were, went ahead to the Golden Palace and even dragged Fang Xiao into taking photos for him. By the time Gu Yiming had thoroughly enjoyed watching each snow leopard and lynx, the two of them had already disappeared.

Fang Xiao’s phone was broken, so Gu Yiming called Tang Shao. After stumbling through descriptions of their locations, neither could figure out where the other was.

Tang Shao: “I’m at some place called *something* Palace.”

Gu Yiming: “Me too.”

Tang Shao: “The walls here are yellow, the eaves are red, and there are painted decorations on top.”

Gu Yiming: “Same here.”

Tang Shao: “One side of the wall here has some kind of garden exhibition, and the other side has a patch of scrawny bamboo.”

Gu Yiming: “Same here.”

Tang Shao was on the verge of a breakdown. “Then we must be in the same place! Why can’t we see each other? Ah!”

Fang Xiao leaned closer to the phone and laughed. “Keep shouting. A few more yells, and Xiao Gu will hear you and come over.”

Gu Yiming thought about it and realized there was no better solution. “Fang Xiao’s right.”

Tang Shao hung up immediately.

In the end, Gu Yiming did follow the sound and find them, with an orange cat trailing faithfully at his heels.

Fang Xiao was surprised. “Did it follow you all the way here?” Gu Yiming nodded.

Tang Shao speculated, “You must’ve fed it, right?” Gu Yiming clarified, “No, I didn’t bring any food.”

Among their group, only Fang Xiao carried a shoulder bag with snacks inside. Gu Yiming had nothing but his phone and the DSLR hanging around his neck.

Gu Yiming didn’t think he’d done anything special. After racking his brain, it suddenly hit him. “I took photos of it—more than a dozen.”

Tang Shao was utterly impressed. “I’ve heard of “cat¹Sexy model” photography, but never cat photography. Master Gu, you’re badass!”

Gu Yiming felt a little embarrassed. He wanted to ask Fang Xiao if he liked cats, but when he looked down, Fang Xiao was completely absorbed in petting the cat, too busy to join their conversation.

Gu Yiming felt conflicted. The truth was, the cat was just a substitute for when Fang Xiao wasn’t available to photograph. He didn’t particularly enjoy photographing cats—they were only physically appealing and lacked Fang Xiao’s willingness to pose and cooperate.

Gu Yiming snapped a few shots of Fang Xiao petting the cat, secretly hoping Fang Xiao would be like the orange cat—someone he could take home after a few photos.

In the end, Gu Yiming didn’t get to take Fang Xiao home.

Boss Zheng and the others were heading to Nyingchi and planned to enter Sichuan after exploring southern Tibet. Gu Yiming calculated the timing and bought a return ticket to Beijing for the day before they left Lhasa, deciding to fly back early. He didn’t explain his solo departure to Fang Xiao, but he thought Fang Xiao could guess.

Winter training was about to start.

Both Fang Xiao and Tang Shao promised to see him off at the airport, but Tang Shao overslept and couldn’t make it, leaving Fang Xiao to drive Gu Yiming alone.

Gu Yiming’s flight was at 9:30 a.m. After checking in, he turned to see Fang Xiao waiting by the floor-to-ceiling windows, his shadow stretched long by the morning sun.

Fang Xiao asked, “Breakfast?”

Gu Yiming agreed.

“Why did you invite me?”

They sat by the window in an airport fast-food restaurant, cold sunlight and warm noodle soup steaming between them. As Gu Yiming asked the question, a plane roared into the sky, carrying away the last shadows of the night.

“Why? The road trip?” Fang Xiao paused with his chopsticks, thought for a moment, then looked at Gu Yiming. “Do you really want to know? This might sound presumptuous…”

Gu Yiming nodded, so Fang Xiao pursed his lips and smiled sheepishly. He spoke slowly. “Xiao Gu, when you talked to me about your poor condition recently… maybe you didn’t realize it, but you were calling for help.”

It was obvious—very obvious. Fang Xiao had felt that way before, understood that blind craving for change. Gu Yiming couldn’t go home and refused to stay with the shooting team, choosing instead to wander unfamiliar cities, striking up conversations and showing vulnerability to strangers. Looking at him, Fang Xiao saw himself three years ago.

“Xiao Gu, I don’t know how things would’ve turned out if you’d met someone else, but I know myself. I like you and wanted to help you.” Fang Xiao frowned slightly, as if embarrassed by his own words. “I might not have been much help… I’m not that capable—I couldn’t just pull you up. I’m still stuck in the mud myself. But I wanted to try. I didn’t know if it would work, but I wanted to try. I think… when you have nowhere to go, you still need a way out.”

Gu Yiming didn’t reply, just stared straight at him. Fang Xiao grew a little uncomfortable but continued. “After the National Games in Shenyang, I looked up your youth competition videos and followed your matches afterward. I remember one year at the championships, you were in the junior division. The Zhejiang Provincial Team coach organized a celebration, singing a song you all wrote. Everyone else was laughing and singing—the atmosphere was great—but you were just staring at your hands. I thought maybe you didn’t like group activities… very mature for your age, but maturity is just delayed childishness.”

“Xiao Gu, I read some reports. Your father was a sharpshooter in the special forces, so shooting runs in the family, and your parents had high expectations for you. You were chosen by shooting. Imagining myself in your shoes, I’d also find that kind of expectation heavy. I love watching you shoot, but the pressure in competitions is intense. Sometimes I can’t help but wonder… Xiao Gu, you don’t actually like shooting, do you?”

No.

Gu Yiming thought. He was surprised—even a little amused.

Fang Xiao was completely wrong. Gu Yiming wasn’t mature for his age. That year at the championships, he had tonsillitis and couldn’t speak, so he didn’t join the singing, but he was happily humming along in his heart. His father wasn’t a sharpshooter either—he’d worked in information technology in the Guangzhou Military Region and retired after just a few years. The sharpshooter story was fabricated by sports journalists after Gu Yiming won gold at the National Games.

Gu Yiming had a bad temper, was cold toward others, and stood out—but at his core, he was just lazy and awkward. Being a misfit wasn’t age-restricted. Fang Xiao said he’d been calling for help, and Gu Yiming thought that might be true, but Fang Xiao wasn’t just “some stranger.” Fang Xiao knew him, recognized him, liked him, chatted with him, joked with him, showed concern for him, and didn’t mind his awkwardness or coldness—things not just anyone could do.

Only Fang Xiao.

This person’s understanding of Gu Yiming was completely wrong—privileges, unspoken comprehension, all of it was misunderstandings.

But what he did was unbelievably right.

Gu Yiming had to clarify.

“I knew that song. I just had a cold that time.”

“My dad wasn’t a sharpshooter. He was in IT in the military.”

Fang Xiao froze. “Then you—”

“I like shooting. I always have.”

Gu Yiming joined the sports team at seven, initially training in the popular sport of table tennis. His basic skills were top-notch, but his performance in the sport itself was mediocre. After two years, he was recommended for transfer to a less competitive event. The table tennis coach told him to ask his family for their opinion, but Gu Yiming’s family wasn’t around. He spent a day researching in the school computer lab and chose shooting over canoeing, cycling, hockey, and archery.

The shooting team rarely recruited young athletes, and there was only one spot available for boys in the transfer selection, making the competition fierce. What ten-year-old boy didn’t like guns? Especially right after the Olympics, with Du Li, Wang Yifu, Zhu Qinan, and Jia Zhanbo—each of their four gold medals impossibly cool.

The selection coach, seeing how many kids wanted to join shooting, had them all try out. A line of children stood on the field, arms extended sideways, each holding a disposable plastic cup filled about three-quarters with water. The task was to hold the position for half an hour without spilling.

Gu Yiming, short for his age, stood at the front, facing a clock. He counted his heartbeats as he stared at it. Within ten minutes, his upper arms ached; by twenty, the insides of his elbows were nearly spasming. In the early autumn weather, he wore a short-sleeved tracksuit, sweat pouring like rain. By the thirty-minute mark, he was barely holding on, half his body stiff. Carefully, he tried to lower the cup without spilling, but his sore arms wouldn’t cooperate, and a few drops escaped. Gu Yiming thought he’d failed and was disappointed—but when he looked up, he was the only one left in line.

“Shooting didn’t choose me. I chose shooting.”

Fang Xiao was mortified.

He wasn’t usually this impulsive—rarely spoke so intimately with someone he didn’t know well. The one time he was completely sincere with his little idol Gu Yiming, he’d made a huge blunder. He turned to look out the window, muttering self-deprecatingly, “I really was presumptuous…”

“No,” Gu Yiming said, gazing at Fang Xiao’s profile. “Fang Xiao, thank you.”

“Ah.” Fang Xiao acknowledged it but still wouldn’t look at him. The rising sun outside the window cast a pale gold light on his face, making him squint slightly. Gu Yiming spotted a tiny mole on his forehead, bathed in that golden hue.

He had learned one more thing about Fang Xiao.

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  Sexy model