Chapter 25 – Dawn

The second selection trial was scheduled for mid-February, coinciding with the Lantern Festival.

Although the competition was imminent, the training base was still buzzing with post-holiday restlessness. Li Yeqing had returned to Sichuan for the New Year and brought back an entire box of spicy rabbit heads, handing them out to everyone. For a while, the base was filled with a cheerful atmosphere. As his roommate, Gu Yiming received three boxes of rabbit heads with varying levels of spiciness when he returned to the dorm that evening.

Gu Yiming opened the mildly spicy box and couldn’t handle more than a couple of bites before tears welled up in his eyes. He accused, “I suspect you’re trying to kill me so you can inherit my selection trial results.”

Li Yeqing grinned mischievously. “You saw right through me! Accept your fate!”

Gu Yiming was too busy gulping water to appreciate his theatrics. Seizing the opportunity, Li Yeqing stole several pieces from his box of rabbit heads, chewing thoughtfully before sighing. “Ming’er, did you really go to your in-laws’ place for the New Year? Seems like you had a good time—you’ve even learned to joke now.”

Gu Yiming smiled unconsciously. “It was great. I owe you thanks.”

Li Yeqing flipped him off in mock disdain. “Disgusting couple behavior.”

After finishing the rabbit heads, he wiped his hands and sat cross-legged on his bed, casually asking, “Ming’er, do you know how to transfer teams?”

Gu Yiming paused mid-sip. “No…”

“Never mind then.” Li Yeqing rolled over and started scrolling through his phone. Gu Yiming watched him for a moment before saying, “I’ve never transferred, but I can ask Coach Zhu—”

Li Yeqing kept his eyes glued to his phone, replying nonchalantly, “It’s fine, just a random thought. I’m not transferring anyway.” Noticing Gu Yiming still staring, he turned and grinned. “I’m fine. Hey, go shower quickly. Starting today, we’re on competition schedule—water gets cut off at eleven.”

Gu Yiming hesitated before advising, “Don’t dwell on it. Get some rest and focus on preparing for the selection trial.”

Li Yeqing waved him off like shooing a fly.

In China’s state-run sports system, “transfers” weren’t the same as commercial transfers. Euphemistically called “talent exchanges,” they essentially involved strong provinces lending their second-tier athletes to weaker provinces—a uniquely socialist athlete circulation system centered around the National Games.

Top-tier talents were never let go, so transfers were mostly reserved for athletes deemed unlikely to achieve significant results. Gu Yiming had struggled in the past two years but still managed to place in national competitions, so he wasn’t at risk of being transferred. Li Yeqing, however, was a first-class sport pistol shooter ranked in the world’s top 50, but in the 10m air pistol event, he was decidedly second or third-tier, rarely making it to major finals. With Sichuan’s shooting team well-stocked in recent years, a transfer was a real possibility.

Athletes tapped for transfers could choose to stay or go, but neither path was ideal. Staying in a strong provincial team didn’t guarantee national competition slots, while smaller provinces offered guaranteed slots but often worse conditions and long-term separation from home.

Li Yeqing didn’t want to talk about it, fearing it would affect Gu Yiming’s performance, so Gu Yiming couldn’t press further. He quietly reached out to Zhejiang Provincial Team’s Coach Zhu Haibing to understand the transfer process and trade-offs, compiling the information into a document and sending it to Li Yeqing. That was all he could do. Coach Zhu, startled by his questions, went out of his way to reassure him that he wouldn’t be transferred and urged him not to worry or stress—just keep a level head.

Gu Yiming’s head was level. In the past, this might have unsettled him, but now, he felt no fear. He had made his choice anew, and the weight of pressure and responsibility no longer slipped lightly from his shoulders. They settled firmly upon him, forcing him to confront the arduous path ahead.

And he wasn’t alone.

Snow fell on the morning of the selection trial—reportedly the last of the winter. When Gu Yiming woke, dawn hadn’t yet broken. Warm streetlights cast slanting rays over the snow, lending a faint warmth to the biting cold. Gu Yiming stood by the corridor window, quietly watching until the streetlights flickered off and daylight crept in. The training ground’s iron gate creaked open as a bus pulled into the base’s courtyard, carrying athletes from outside the team arriving for the competition.

This selection trial’s results would only determine slots for the first leg of the World Cup, so the scale was smaller. The qualification round wrapped up quickly, and Qin Shan repeated his tactic of summoning reserve athletes from other events to simulate competition noise. One air rifle shooter brought a metronome, and when Gu Yiming saw it, he remembered spotting one at Fang Xiao’s place too, and the memory tipped a smile onto his face.

The moment the finals began, pressure and responsibility arrived as expected. Gu Yiming stood sideways, feet slightly apart, shoulders relaxed, head bowed—ready. No longer sharp and resolute, the genius who had once fallen from the clouds had grown into a steady mountain.

Gu Yiming finished first in qualifications and third in the finals. Combined with his first selection trial results (first in qualifications, second in finals, earning 24 points), his 22 points from this round placed him just behind Xie Qingyun’s 48 points, securing a spot in the first leg of the World Cup. The third slot went to a provincial athlete in exceptional form this year.

Qin Shan collected their IDs and visa forms before heading off to organize the women’s team competition, jokingly reminding them to inform their provincial coaches and families. Xie Qingyun, perpetually ranked first domestically in air pistol, was no stranger to international competitions and seemed indifferent. Noticing Gu Yiming typing on his phone, he clapped him on the shoulder and teased, “What, texting your girlfriend?”

“Just updating Coach Zhu,” Gu Yiming replied. His earlier questions about transfers had needlessly worried Zhu Haibing, so he owed him an update. As for Fang Xiao, there was no rush. He hadn’t forgotten that Fang Xiao owed him a love song and planned to savor their conversation that evening.

Post-competition, they were granted half a day off, combined with Sunday to make up for the Lantern Festival holiday. Gu Yiming returned to the dorm for a shower and came out to find Li Yeqing packing his belongings.

Gu Yiming froze. “Leaving already?”

Li Yeqing had scored 565 in qualifications—an improvement over his non-scoring first selection trial but still outside the top 20, failing to advance to the finals. With World Cup training camp about to start, Li Yeqing could technically prepare to leave, but shooters traveled with their guns, and without official dismissal papers, there was no need to rush.

“I took leave. My train’s at eight tonight,” Li Yeqing said, head down as he folded his quilt, avoiding Gu Yiming’s gaze. “Need to leave early. The new team’s coming to the provincial team tomorrow afternoon to pick people. Heard it’s Guizhou this time—not too far, at least.”

Gu Yiming sat on his bed, silent. Watching Li Yeqing bustle about, he couldn’t think of anything comforting to say. Words felt hollow—he’d hit plateaus before and knew they couldn’t be overcome with a few well-meaning phrases.

Finally, Li Yeqing packed his last face towel. He stood his suitcase by the bed, propped his chin on his arm, and stared blankly before suddenly turning to Gu Yiming. “Ming’er, thanks for sending me that info the other day. Let me treat you to dinner.”

The cafeteria was closed for the holiday, so they dragged their suitcases to a grilled fish restaurant. It was less about eating and more about drinking—Li Yeqing drank while Gu Yiming tried to dissuade him. Eventually, Gu Yiming gave up. Li Yeqing had no competition or training tomorrow, just a lonely train ride and an athlete’s life up for sale.

Near the end of the meal, they ran into Xie Qingyun. The senior had brought his wife out for the Lantern Festival and spotted them from afar, coming over to say hello. Though not roommates, Xie Qingyun and Li Yeqing were familiar teammates in 50m sport pistol, and Xie had always admired the younger shooter. Comings and goings in the training camp were routine, but this was different—an event removal. They likely wouldn’t train together for a long time. With nothing else to say, Xie Qingyun hugged Li Yeqing.

Li Yeqing buried his face in Xie’s shoulder. “Senior, I didn’t lose.”

Xie Qingyun patted his back.

Li Yeqing freed an arm and motioned for Gu Yiming to come over, slinging it around his shoulders. The three stood huddled together as Li Yeqing called out, “Say cheese!” They smiled, and Xie’s wife snapped a photo with her phone.

Li Yeqing said, choking on his words, “See you at this year’s championships.”

He waved from the escalator, his voice and figure vanishing into the subway station.

Gu Yiming returned to the dorm feeling subdued. Fang Xiao hadn’t messaged yet, so after lying on his bed staring at his phone for a few minutes, he called. The phone rang for a while before Fang Xiao picked up.

“Eager to hear me sing?” Fang Xiao’s voice was warm and soft, laced with laughter.

Gu Yiming found himself smiling too. His melancholy, like willow leaves brushed by spring breeze, spun lightly before dissolving into the river. Rolling onto his side, hand over his heart, he said, “Fang Xiao, I got the World Cup slot.”

A small gasp came through the phone. Fang Xiao seemed to stand abruptly, his chair scraping sharply against the floor.

“New Delhi leg?” Fang Xiao’s tone was initially calm, but his breathing betrayed his excitement. “That’s early next month—when do you leave? Can I see you off? Do you need help preparing anything?”

Gu Yiming laughed, burying his face in the pillow. He remembered Fang Xiao’s flustered, rambling encouragement when he’d returned to Beijing for winter training—as if Fang Xiao had been happier than he was. He called Fang Xiao’s name twice before the rapid-fire questions stopped.

“You have team leaders and coaches… I forgot,” Fang Xiao exhaled, his excitement settling. Softly, he said, “That’s amazing, Xiao Gu. Truly amazing.”

He fell silent, and so did Gu Yiming. Fang Xiao was probably still at the studio—there was no background noise, just the steady rhythm of his breathing. Gu Yiming sank deeper into his pillow. The day had been overwhelming: a high-stakes competition and a friend’s departure. Listening to Fang Xiao’s breaths, his body and mind relaxed.

“…A waking lithium flower, just about to bloom; I smell lithium now, smelling lithium now…” Fang Xiao hummed a few lines. “Ever heard this, Xiao Gu? ‘Lithium Flower¹A Ghost in the Shell (anime) outro theme by Scott Matthew. Pretty good, I might include it..’ I used to love it, then stopped listening, thought I’d forget—until I met you. At the National Games in Shenyang, watching your final shot, this song looped in my head.”

Gu Yiming liked it and tried humming along, but his pitch was off. Giving up, he remembered Fang Xiao’s promise and lazily protested, “This isn’t the love song you owe me.”

“I could never write something this good,” Fang Xiao laughed, his warm breath brushing the microphone, tickling Gu Yiming’s ear. “But this one’s not bad—it’s the best I can do right now.”

Mouse clicks and keyboard taps sounded before Fang Xiao cleared his throat, lowered his voice, and softly hummed a melody. Gu Yiming found it faintly familiar—after a moment, he recognized the recurring motif Fang Xiao had drunkenly hummed on New Year’s Eve.

He expected an a cappella rendition, but then guitar and drums flowed through the headphones, gentle and lingering. The same melody repeated—first vocals, then guitar, then piano layered over the guitar.

Gu Yiming knew nothing about harmony but sensed the subtle clashes and resolutions in timbre, dynamics, and texture, hearing the contradictions Fang Xiao had confessed that New Year’s Eve. Sharp yet delicate, they wove through different sounds and rhythms, softening and expanding. Nothing was corrected or discarded—notes explored ways to coexist.

Seven minutes and thirty-five seconds. Fang Xiao bared his soul through music.

“…Playing post-rock over a phone call feels like a waste.”

Seemingly unsure about the atmosphere he’d created, Fang Xiao joked after finishing. His voice returned to normal, but his tone remained tender, as if still immersed in the song. “I sent you the demo recording too. My mixing’s not great—I’ll get someone to remix it later.”

Gu Yiming rubbed his warm cheeks. “Does this song have a name?”

“Nope. I’m no good at titles—or lyrics. Clients usually name the tracks,” Fang Xiao replied lightly. “Xiao Gu, I’m giving it to you. It’s yours now. Want to name it?”

Gu Yiming had already decided but grew shy saying it aloud. Softly, he murmured, “Call it ‘Dawn’… the ‘Xiao’ in ‘Fang Xiao.'”

Fang Xiao seemed surprised.

Afraid Fang Xiao would demur, Gu Yiming insisted, “You said it’s mine—no takebacks.”

After a pause, Fang Xiao sighed in amused resignation. “No takebacks.”

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  A Ghost in the Shell (anime) outro theme by Scott Matthew. Pretty good, I might include it.