Chapter 23 – Teenage

Fang Xiao loved eating porridge. All kinds of porridge—millet, rice, black rice, barley, mung beans, red beans, buckwheat, oats—just plain mixed grains boiled together without sugar or meat. Apart from porridge, Fang Xiao only ate raw vegetable salads and chicken breast. The salad didn’t need dressing, and the chicken breast didn’t require oil, salt, or seasoning. When he was too busy to cook, Fang Xiao would order takeout, but he always stuck to the same restaurant and only ordered plain stewed dishes.

It wasn’t about health or weight loss—Fang Xiao genuinely found such meals delicious.

Gu Yiming, who had rolled up his sleeves to cook, was deeply shocked after asking about Fang Xiao’s eating habits. He thought that as a professional athlete, his own diet was already quite healthy and light, but he never expected someone like Fang Xiao to exist.

“My mom and my sister are both dancers. They have to maintain their figures, so they’re very particular about their diet. I grew up eating like this at home, so I got used to it. I can eat other things, but I don’t like them,” Fang Xiao said, leaning against the kitchen doorway, watching Gu Yiming bustle around the kitchen with mild curiosity. “I don’t like drinking beverages either. I learned to drink alcohol later, but I don’t like that either—I just do it for the buzz.”

Gu Yiming couldn’t help but turn around and say, “But you’re too thin…”

“Not that thin…” Fang Xiao followed Gu Yiming’s gaze and looked down at his own arm, then changed his words mid-sentence. “At least I’m thin in a healthy way. Someone like me, who works from home and doesn’t exercise, would easily get high blood sugar if I ate more.”

Gu Yiming frowned. “Then you shouldn’t eat less—you should exercise.”

“You’re right,” Fang Xiao nodded earnestly. But when Gu Yiming seriously suggested exercise routines, Fang Xiao grew absent-minded, just squinting at him with a smile—the classic “acknowledge the mistake but never correct it” attitude.

Gu Yiming thought, How can someone be this stubborn? But it didn’t matter—few people could out-stubborn a shooting athlete.

He set down the kitchen knife, turned to face Fang Xiao, and said sternly, “We’ll go for a morning run together tomorrow.”

Fang Xiao widened his eyes in surprise.

At six the next morning, Gu Yiming indeed woke Fang Xiao up. The apartment had originally been set up as a small home studio, and since the band often stayed up late recording, there was a fold-out sofa bed in the living room. The only bedroom had been given to Gu Yiming, so Fang Xiao slept on the sofa bed in the living room. Gu Yiming called out twice, but no one answered, so he turned on the lights—only to see Fang Xiao curled up in a shapeless pile of blankets, squirming under the bright fluorescent light but refusing to wake up properly.

Gu Yiming found this amusing and puzzled. “You didn’t sleep in like this on the road.”

“You said it yourself—*on the road*,” Fang Xiao mumbled sleepily. “When I flew to watch your matches, I often had to catch flights at three in the morning.”

As soon as he said it, he realized his slip-up and awkwardly retreated under the covers, coughing. “I’m getting up now. Move aside.”

At first, Gu Yiming didn’t understand why he needed to move. But when Fang Xiao, unable to withstand his questioning gaze, reluctantly stood up completely naked from under the blankets, Gu Yiming immediately spun around, closing his eyes—yet his mind kept replaying the image of that slender body.

He wasn’t the same teenager who had been embarrassed by open showers when he first arrived in the north. He had seen plenty of naked men—mostly teammates, with bodies honed by training. From an aesthetic standpoint, Fang Xiao’s body was too thin—not particularly healthy or attractive. But rational critique couldn’t dictate emotional attraction.

Before this realization, Gu Yiming had traveled west with Fang Xiao and seen him fresh from the shower or half-naked more than once—all without a single impure thought, completely guilt-free. But now that his heart had been stirred, the slightest provocation made him acutely aware that he, too, was a mortal man with desires. His mind raced uncontrollably with thoughts that felt blasphemous, and he felt deeply guilty toward Fang Xiao. He could only try to steady his breathing and hurry Fang Xiao out for a run, hoping to burn off his excess energy.

Gu Yiming was certain Fang Xiao had noticed his physical reaction, but Fang Xiao kindly let the matter drop. A nineteen-year-old teenager could get hard from just the wind blowing—it wasn’t impossible to get excited from running, either. Gu Yiming lied to himself, calmly and rationally leading the way down the empty streets—only to accidentally speed up too much, leaving Fang Xiao trailing two or three hundred meters behind.

The northern area of the Summer Palace was always lively, and even on the third day of the Lunar New Year, there were visitors admiring the plum blossoms. Only as they headed further west did the crowds thin out. Fang Xiao, panting heavily, followed Gu Yiming to the West Causeway before finally waving him off, signaling for Gu Yiming to continue running while he bundled himself in a down jacket and hat, sitting briefly on a stone bench.

The ice on Kunming Lake had long since frozen solid, and the skating rink was open. The distant silhouettes of Paiyun Hall and Zhichun Pavilion were faintly visible across the lake, bustling with voices—only the West Causeway remained quiet. Fang Xiao sat with his hands tucked into his sleeves in the cold wind, watching Gu Yiming’s figure grow smaller and smaller until it disappeared behind withered trees and drooping willows. Yet he couldn’t tear his gaze away, staring blankly into the distance.

Now he knew Gu Yiming liked him. It wasn’t a fleeting impulse or superficial infatuation—Gu Yiming sincerely liked him as a complete person. This was truly unexpected. Gu Yiming’s affection was frank and genuine, and it didn’t trouble Fang Xiao. If he were to evaluate Gu Yiming as a suitor, Xiao Gu was unbearably adorable, with looks and a physique that perfectly suited Fang Xiao’s tastes. Under normal circumstances, he wouldn’t hesitate. If they had met later, when Gu Yiming was more mature, he wouldn’t have hesitated at all.

But not now.

The problem was Fang Xiao himself.

Could he love someone? For so long, he had been accustomed to being controlled, to relationships built on taking and giving—could he still form a healthy, intimate bond with someone? Xiao Gu was different from his usual type—not mature enough, and without strong psychological defenses. He was so young, so inexperienced—his boundaries would have to come from Fang Xiao. And Fang Xiao himself had boundary issues. He was a good friend, but definitely not a good lover.

Tang Shao teased him for having a thing for domineering CEOs, but that wasn’t it. Fang Xiao simply lacked confidence in himself, so he placed all his hopes on the other person. He wanted a partner with rich emotional experience and social connections—someone who, if love faded under life’s pressures, could leave safely and peacefully. He didn’t want to repeat past mistakes, whether the victim was himself or the other person.

Fang Xiao was terrified—utterly terrified. Dating an inexperienced teenager was completely different from being with a mature, stable peer. No one would correct or guide him if he made mistakes—he’d have to shoulder twice the responsibility. He was afraid his hard-won peaceful life would be shattered by a failed relationship, and even more afraid that his young idol, who had just rebuilt himself, would relapse because of a failed romance. That would all be his fault.

Just thinking about it filled Fang Xiao with dread.

Could he really take such a huge risk, subjecting himself to such a rigorous test in an intimate relationship?

Even if Gu Yiming was that wonderful. Precisely because Gu Yiming was that wonderful.

Gu Yiming didn’t return for a long time. Fang Xiao wallowed in self-pity for nearly half an hour before the cold became unbearable, so he called Gu Yiming. He expected Gu Yiming wouldn’t hear it while running, but the call was answered quickly—with a noisy background.

“Xiao Gu, where are you?” Fang Xiao asked.

“By Suzhou Creek,” Gu Yiming said.

“???”

“…Buying candied hawthorns.”

Near Ruyi Gate, there was a plum blossom exhibition, and the signs had been changed. Gu Yiming wasn’t familiar with the area and took a wrong turn, ending up by Suzhou Creek to the north. Worried that Fang Xiao hadn’t moved much and had been waiting for him all this time, he wanted to buy him a hot drink—but the shops weren’t open yet. Only a candied hawthorn vendor was operating, with a modest line. The vendor had strict rules: if you wanted a drink, you had to buy candied hawthorns first.

When Fang Xiao found him, Gu Yiming was standing alone in the middle of the road, holding a takeout cup of hot drink in his right hand and a candied hawthorn skewer longer than his forearm in his left, looking completely bewildered. When he saw Fang Xiao, he immediately handed over the cup, hesitated, then offered the candied hawthorns as well: “…Want some?”

Fang Xiao took the cup and nearly spilled his drink laughing at the question. He was usually the one looking after others—being clumsily cared for by Xiao Gu felt novel and amusing, warming his heart after being chilled by the wind for so long. He leaned in, tilting his head to bite off the top hawthorn, chewing as he mumbled, “Going above and beyond, Xiao Gu. Keep it up.”

Gu Yiming stared at the candied hawthorns and sighed softly.

When Tang Shao called, Gu Yiming was still struggling with the last two hawthorns, while Fang Xiao was alone in the soundproof room composing the song he’d impulsively started on New Year’s Eve. Gu Yiming had initially been allowed to sit behind him and watch, but he was soon kicked out because the melting sugar from the candied hawthorns might drip onto the soundproofing foam.

Gu Yiming glanced at the vibrating phone on the coffee table—Tang Shao’s name flashing on the screen—then looked down at his own syrup-coated hands. He curled his fingers and answered the call with a clean knuckle.

“Fang Tiantian, come out, come out, quick—”

“It’s Gu Yiming. Fang Xiao is working.”

“…Master Gu?” Tang Shao sounded doubtful. “You’re with Fang Xiao? At his place?”

Gu Yiming inexplicably felt shy—he wasn’t trying to show off. “…What’s up?”

Tang Shao did have something in mind, though nothing serious. He’d meant to pull a few friends together for board games, but the moment he heard Gu Yiming was there, the plan shifted on a dime. Ever since Fang Xiao had forcibly fed him an interest in competitive shooting during their trip, Tang Shao had been itching to try it—but he hadn’t known how to get started. Now that he had Gu Yiming, he was thrilled and eagerly invited him and Fang Xiao to go shooting.

During the Spring Festival holiday, most public shooting ranges in the city were closed. In the end, Gu Yiming directed them to the public shooting range at Huairou Sports School. The competitive shooting circle in China was very small, and the range coach recognized Gu Yiming. Seeing that he was bringing guests, the coach waived the requirement for an assigned instructor. After paying and registering, Gu Yiming took the ammunition and led Fang Xiao and Tang Shao into the range.

Fang Xiao had watched plenty of matches and had solid theoretical knowledge—but it was all book smarts with no practical experience. Tang Shao was slightly better in terms of physique and strength, but it was still a case of the pot calling the kettle black. Both of them struggled with stability. Tang Shao had Gu Yiming correcting his stance up close multiple times before his form looked passable, but Fang Xiao didn’t get the same treatment—he couldn’t quite grasp the shoulder mechanics when raising the gun. Gu Yiming only demonstrated for him, and even when adjusting his wrist, he kept at least a step away.

For safety, none of the air pistols were loaded with air cylinders. Seeing that Gu Yiming hadn’t fixed Fang Xiao’s issue after so long, Tang Shao grew impatient and urged, “What’s the holdup? Fang Tiantian can’t possibly be dumber than me, right? Master Gu, just hold him like you did with me—problem solved!”

But Gu Yiming pursed his lips without answering, only glancing at Fang Xiao. That glance carried a storm of emotions—restrained yet intense. Fang Xiao was momentarily stunned by it, and when he realized what it meant, his heart skipped a beat. He quickly looked down to hide his reaction.

Air pistols weren’t hard to pick up. Once Gu Yiming confirmed both of them understood the safety basics, he loaded the air cylinders and taught them how to load and aim. Being a professional in top form, Gu Yiming only needed two sighting shots before massacring the ten-ring. Tang Shao watched enviously, his competitive spirit flaring, and soon finished his own set of ten shots. The target was ten meters away—too far to see clearly—so he assumed he’d done well. But when he reeled the target back, the target paper had only four shot holes—not stacked neatly like Gu Yiming’s, but scattered, with less than half hitting the paper. Fang Xiao did slightly better, landing six hits.

Tang Shao refused to accept this and clamored to try the air rifle. Though Gu Yiming could handle it, it wasn’t his main event, so he asked them to wait while he went to fetch a coach. Soon, a young man in his twenties arrived, explaining that Gu Yiming had been asked by the coach to instruct some air pistol students and had sent him to teach Tang Shao and Fang Xiao prone rifle shooting.

The way rifles were held made them far more stable than pistols—but also meant their targets were much smaller, with black rings the size of coins, making it easy for beginners to miss entirely. After practicing for a while, both of them had marks on their faces from the cheek piece, and their best scores were only in the forties for prone position. Before they could continue, the young coach called time, collected the equipment, and told them to wait for Gu Yiming while teaching them some shoulder and arm relaxation exercises.

Tang Shao was still eager. “That was fun. Wanna book another session in the next couple of weeks?”

Fang Xiao was also tempted, but after checking the dates, he shook his head. “Mid-February is the second round of selection trials, which count toward World Cup qualifications. Early March is the first leg of the World Cup. And at the end of March is the National Championship—also a national team selection trial that he has to attend. Xiao Gu won’t be available for a while.”

Tang Shao drew out an “Ohhh,” disappointed but also picking up on the implied information. “You two are getting along well, huh. Is he still chasing you?”

Fang Xiao paused mid-stretch, then sighed after a long moment. “…The age gap’s too big. It feels like being pursued by my own son.”

Tang Shao gave him a sidelong glance. “You blush when your ‘son’ looks at you?”

Fang Xiao felt utterly hopeless.