Chapter 13 – A Rival Appears…

The night before the selection trials, Gu Yiming returned from training to find a new friend request on WeChat. The sender’s ID was “Xing Zongkai,” with a pot of lily-of-the-valley blooming on an office desk as the profile picture.

When Gu Yiming first started using WeChat, he used to accept every friend request indiscriminately. The result was his Moments feed becoming flooded with MLM advertisements until he could barely see any normal updates. Gradually, he stopped accepting requests from strangers. For this particular request, Gu Yiming was about to tap “Ignore” when the name suddenly struck him as vaguely familiar—Xing Zongkai. It seemed Tang Shao had mentioned this name before—possibly a friend of Fang Xiao’s.

Alright then, Fang Xiao’s friend.

Gu Yiming tapped “Accept.”

The other party didn’t seem to be online, as there was no immediate reply. Gu Yiming waited for a while, but when no response came, he started scrolling through Moments again. Fang Xiao and the others had already left Tibet and entered Sichuan—these past few days they should have been near the Sichuan-Tibet border. Tang Shao had posted a photo of a hydroelectric power station in the evening with the caption: “The further we go, the more desolate it gets. This is the only place with signal today.” After that, neither of them had posted anything new.

Gu Yiming exited Moments and sent Fang Xiao a message, but there was no reply. Expected, yet Gu Yiming still felt a bit lonely. Ever since returning to Beijing, he had chatted with Fang Xiao every day. A few days ago, when they talked about the selection trials, Fang Xiao had remarked that it was a coincidence—that day happened to be his birthday.

His birthday.

Gu Yiming rarely celebrated his own birthday. Sometimes the shooting team’s coach would organize something for him—buying a small cake, standard fare for team members. For a long time, Gu Yiming had harbored a quiet anticipation for birthdays, though he never voiced it. He was too awkward—he felt that expectations fulfilled only after being voiced were hypocritical gestures. It was the same reason he refused psychological intervention.

But Fang Xiao was different. Exactly how, Gu Yiming couldn’t pinpoint—perhaps because Fang Xiao’s kindness didn’t stem from obligation or social pressure. Fang Xiao was his fan. Just thinking about this made Gu Yiming happy, his heart pounding and cheeks flushing uncontrollably.

He decided to celebrate Fang Xiao’s birthday.

Gu Yiming stopped staring at the unanswered chat. He turned off his phone and began practicing the “trick your brain into thinking you’re asleep” technique, eventually drifting off without realizing it.

Due to injuries and withdrawals during this winter training session, the national team only had eight male athletes for the 10m air pistol event, including those who were transitioning or doubling in the 50m pistol. Combined with non-national team athletes selected through preliminary trials, everyone first competed in an elimination-style qualifying round before proceeding to the finals under the ISSF’s new regulations.

This competition would also serve as the first of two selection trials for the first leg of the World Cup. Transitioning athletes wouldn’t have their scores counted this round—only those specializing in air pistol would begin accumulating points based on their qualifying and final results, which would be combined with the second selection trial to allocate spots for the first World Cup event next year.

There were no spectators for this selection trial. The venue simulated an official competition by looping upbeat square dance music on repeat. Female team members acted as the audience, responsible for creating variable-speed applause during the medal rounds, while Qin Shan provided live commentary. Gu Yiming scored 587 in the qualifying round and was assigned to Platform A—the first shooting station from the left in the range.

When the first five-shot scoring series began, Gu Yiming was extremely nervous. He knew rationally that this was just a selection trial for a cup event—not even the only one—but logic was useless. The tension had started the moment he realized this was a competition—his heart rate soared past 100, and he could feel his stabilizing left hand and half his shoulder trembling with each heavy heartbeat.

Gu Yiming didn’t load his pellet immediately. He remained in the ready position, gaze slightly lowered, staring at his right hand and the gun it loosely held. Cardiac muscle was uncontrollable, but skeletal muscle wasn’t. He consciously slowed his breathing, counting seconds until he regained control over his breath and pulse. His shooting used to come naturally, but now he had to forcibly extract himself from chaotic thoughts and intense competitiveness.

It wasn’t an easy process, and this was far from his best condition—but Gu Yiming now had the strength to take this shot.

8.1.

This was the worst score in the entire venue. Qin Shan threw in some commentary mimicking an official broadcast, but Gu Yiming paid no attention, refusing to succumb to disappointment.

This was a recoverable score.

This was a score that didn’t need recovering.

Gu Yiming took a deep breath, waiting for his heartbeat to stabilize. He stopped dwelling on the previous shot’s quality, focusing entirely on the current one—quick lift, slow trigger pull, maintaining form. He had a strange confidence—he wouldn’t lose.

“Vast horizons are my love”—48.9.

“I’m like a fish in your lotus pond”—50.4.

By the time these two songs ended, the scoring series had just concluded. Gu Yiming totaled 99.3, tying for third place. Though this was merely a World Cup selection trial, it marked the first time in ages he hadn’t entered the elimination round in last place. Unconsciously, Gu Yiming licked his lips—he wasn’t sure if it was nerves or anticipation.

Li Yeqing had already been eliminated in the qualifiers. The first four shots of the elimination rounds unsurprisingly took out all transitioning athletes. By the end of the first shot in the third round, an errant 8.7 dropped Gu Yiming to fifth place—only 0.3 points ahead of the last-ranked teammate. In air pistol terms, this was practically no gap at all.

Gu Yiming tensed his torso. He could feel his blood pumping—a buzzing sound resonated inside his skull along with the background music. He loaded his pellet, raised his arm, letting the sights slowly come into view as they aligned with the distant bullseye. This time, his form was precise—no micro-adjustments needed. Aiming had become habitual—the pressure on the trigger gradually increased until the pellet was launched by the dice roll of fate.

10.9.

This score was nothing special during practice, but it was rare in finals. Gu Yiming had once casually achieved such scores—but that era was long past. After lowering his gun, Gu Yiming still held his right hand loosely. This shot felt unreal—he’d known it was good the moment the trigger clicked—just good. What he hadn’t known was that good was enough.

Gu Yiming’s ears registered Qin Shan’s commentary and instructions, but his mind kept replaying Fang Xiao’s words. He thought—so it really didn’t matter.

Then all thoughts sank into his subconscious.

Gu Yiming kept shooting. There was no time for emotions—not even rationality had a role to play. Each shot—each lift, aim, and fire—stemmed purely from instinct, from perfect rhythm and timing. He couldn’t hear the background music, the commentary, or the audience’s clapping and cheers—only gunfire.

His own gunfire.

Gu Yiming’s final scores were 587 and 239.7—first in qualifications, second in finals. Qin Shan was pleasantly surprised by these results and praised him. At first, Gu Yiming responded woodenly, only gradually coming to his senses and belatedly feeling joy. Qin Shan said he’d “entered the zone,” patting his shoulder cheerfully and telling him to maintain this form.

The selection trial was held on a rest day during winter training, so there were no subsequent sessions. When he got back to his dorm, Gu Yiming immediately checked his phone, wanting to share the good news with Fang Xiao. Only when he saw Fang Xiao hadn’t replied for hours did he remember their spotty signal. Closing Fang Xiao’s chat, he noticed a notification he’d overlooked in his excitement—a message from his newly added contact.

[Xing Zongkai: Fang Xiao?]

[1: Yeah]

[1: Not him]

[1: Need something?]

The other end went silent.

Gu Yiming had initially thought the other person was asking if he knew Fang Xiao—hence his affirmative response—only to realize he’d misunderstood. Most likely, Tang Shao had mistakenly given out his number as Fang Xiao’s while on the road. Worried it might be urgent, he asked—but after no reply for a while, Gu Yiming closed the chat. Having just competed, his shirt was soaked with cold sweat—he needed a shower first.

When he returned, several new messages had appeared in the chat.

[Xing Zongkai: Are you Fang Xiao’s new boyfriend?]

[Xing Zongkai: How has Fang Xiao been lately?]

[Xing Zongkai: Never mind, I didn’t mean anything by it.]

[Xing Zongkai: Apologize to Fang Xiao for me. Tell him I won’t pressure him anymore.]

[Xing Zongkai: Also, happy birthday.]

[Xing Zongkai: Treat him well.]

[You are not friends with this user. Send a friend request?]

Gu Yiming was baffled.

He read the messages several times, thought for a while, then finally called Tang Shao. By now, Fang Xiao’s group should be nearing Ya’an—the call connected quickly.

Fang Xiao answered. Gu Yiming had been mulling over that strange monologue, a thousand questions sprouting in his heart—but hearing Fang Xiao’s voice, he only remembered one thing.

“Happy birthday.”

The words slipped out, followed immediately by regret. He’d revealed his surprise too soon. Oblivious to his preparations, Fang Xiao laughed and thanked him, asking about today’s selection trial before launching into their day’s itinerary. They’d soaked in hot springs at Hailuogou the previous night. This morning, they could’ve taken the cable car down—but Boss Zheng led them astray again, somehow ending up at Glacier No. 1. The hike had been freezing and exhausting.

“But the glacier was spectacular,” Fang Xiao said with awe. “I’ll show you photos later.”

By the time they came down, it was already 2 p.m. They drove to Ya’an on terrible roads—sheer cliffs on one side, steep drops on the other—arriving utterly spent and checking into a hotel early. All four were too exhausted to go out, currently lounging in their room like corpses.

Hearing this, Gu Yiming thought: Perfect.

He asked Fang Xiao for the hotel’s location, hanging up before the other’s confusion could form into a question, and started on his list of vendors. These were all birthday celebration strategies he’d learned from Moments articles. Earlier, when Fang Xiao mentioned their itinerary, this day was supposed to be in Ya’an—so he’d preordered a panda-themed cake, booked local specialty takeout and alcohol based on recommendations, and even hired a professional courier service to deliver balloons.

When the time was right, he called Tang Shao again. This time, Tang Shao answered—from the background noise, Fang Xiao seemed to be answering the door.

…Probably the cake delivery.

Tang Shao guffawed, “Hey, let me tell you—some lunatic sent us a room full of balloons today. There’s literally no space to stand—”

“Me,” Gu Yiming said.

Tang Shao choked. After a long pause, he yelled, “Fang Tiantian! Not a lunatic! It’s Gu Yiming! Actually, it *is* a lunatic!”

Gu Yiming felt wronged. Gu Yiming didn’t think he was a lunatic. “Then take a photo with them all floating near the ceiling.”

“They won’t float,” Fang Xiao chimed in. “They’re not helium balloons. There are so many piled on the floor—no space left to step.”

Gu Yiming let out a surprised, embarrassed “Ah.”

Fang Xiao began to ask, “The cake was you too—” but suddenly exclaimed, “Tang Shao!”

A loud “pop” came through the phone, followed by chaotic noises. Gu Yiming suddenly tensed, recalling Sichuan’s recent earthquakes. “What happened?”

Fang Xiao provided live commentary: “Someone just delivered takeout—also your doing? Tang Shao stepped on a balloon while getting it… Huh, there seems to be a note inside. He’s stomping on the rest now… Boss Zheng’s joining in…”

Another loud “pop.” “I stepped on one too,” Fang Xiao said, his voice threaded with a smile.

Gu Yiming asked curiously, “What does the note say?” The balloon models and enclosed notes were provided by the courier company—he’d only vaguely mentioned Fang Xiao’s preferences, not the specifics.

Fang Xiao didn’t answer immediately, seemingly stunned. Finally, he cleared his throat and recited solemnly: “Dear Fang Xiao… fair maiden, I, on behalf of… blah blah the Fairy Queen, hereby declare that henceforth I shall… buy two sets of La Mer—one for your hands, one for your feet; two Hermes bags—one for groceries, one for trash; two cats—one to sniff, one to pet; two mansions—one for Sichuan mahjong, one for Changsha mahjong; only one young stud allowed… me.”

“…” Gu Yiming spoke with difficulty. “I didn’t write that.”

“I know,” Fang Xiao said, clearly holding back laughter—his voice trembled. “Xiao Gu wouldn’t know Sichuan versus Changsha mahjong… or have heard of La Mer.”

“…” Gu Yiming truly hadn’t. He searched online—discovering it was an exorbitantly priced luxury skincare brand. But how did Fang Xiao know… Come to think of it, Fang Xiao did use skincare daily.

Gu Yiming asked, “Do you like it?”

“I don’t use this brand,” Fang Xiao said. “Not this one.”

“Which do you use?”

“Ah… are you trying to keep me now?” Fang Xiao finally burst out laughing, moving the phone away. Listening to the distant laughter, Gu Yiming felt an itch in his heart—he wished he were there, eating cake, popping balloons, watching Fang Xiao laugh until he couldn’t stand straight.

It took Fang Xiao a while to recover. Bringing the phone back, he said, “Didn’t we agree I’d keep you as my young stud? Since when does the fresh meat keep the old jerky?”

Gu Yiming deadpanned, “The meat buns keep the fresh meat.”

Fang Xiao exploded into laughter again. Today, his threshold for amusement was remarkably low—a joyous twenty-nine-year-old elder youth.

Left hanging, Gu Yiming thought about Fang Xiao’s earlier words. Fang Xiao keeping him was impossible—he’d already sold himself to the shooting team. Him keeping Fang Xiao, however, posed no issues. But if Fang Xiao’s spending habits were at La Mer levels… Gu Yiming would need to compete more and win more championships.

When Fang Xiao finally stopped laughing, Gu Yiming told him, “Go eat with them first. Have cake.”

“Huh?” Fang Xiao blinked. “You have plans?”

“Early bedtime,” Gu Yiming said solemnly, setting up his next move. “Considering increasing tomorrow’s training load.”

After all, he needed to win more championships now.