Chapter 26 – Almost There

The first leg of this year’s ISSF World Cup was held in New Delhi, India. In the qualification rounds, all three Chinese athletes performed exceptionally well and advanced to the finals. The last time all male air pistol shooters from China made it to the finals in a World Cup was during the previous Olympic cycle—four years ago. Even the usually stern head coach couldn’t help but praise them a few words.

Gu Yiming was eliminated in the fifth round of the elimination stage, scoring 197.8 points and placing fourth, missing out on a medal. This result wasn’t outstanding, but it certainly wasn’t bad either. Hearing the outcome, Gu Yiming showed no disappointment. He lowered his head, opened the chamber’s loading port, inserted the safety flag, removed his earplugs, turned to bow to the audience, and quietly exited the range.

His new teammate had been eliminated in the second round of the elimination stage. Seeing Gu Yiming return to the rest area, the teammate gave him a shy smile: “That 10.7 earlier was really cool.” The head coach also commented, “You shot well. Just took too long aiming for the last shot.” Gu Yiming nodded, smiled at the cameras gathering around, and focused on watching Xie Qingyun compete.

Xie Qingyun was the undisputed senior brother, the ace of China’s male pistol shooters, excelling in both the 10m air pistol and 25m rapid-fire pistol events. After winning the Olympic championship last year, his world ranking in the 50m pistol event remained firmly at the top. Even after the event was discontinued, he stayed within the top ten in the 10m air pistol rankings, unquestionably China’s number one. Nowadays, when the younger generation competes internationally, they only face pressure for individual results because the weight of national honor rests entirely on Xie Qingyun’s shoulders. Li Yeqing once gossiped with Gu Yiming, saying that Senior Xie might retire after the next Olympics and become a coach at the Shooting Sports Center. By then, international competitions would only become tougher.

Back then, Li Yeqing had even imitated Liu Jianhong’s iconic commentary line: “Time is running out for Team China.”

Time was running out for their growth too.

Not long after returning from New Delhi, Gu Yiming received a notice to return to his provincial team. The championship was registered by provincial teams, so he had to go back to Zhejiang to prepare.

This year’s championship staggered the rapid-fire, slow-fire, and skeet events by a month each. Few Zhejiang team members were returning, so Zhu Haibing didn’t come to Beijing to pick them up, only reminding Gu Yiming and the other athletes to bring their gun licenses and travel safely. Fang Xiao hadn’t been able to see Gu Yiming off for the New Delhi leg and still felt regretful. Hearing that Gu Yiming was taking the high-speed train back, he specially drove them to the station.

The Zhejiang team’s air rifle squad was noticeably stronger than their air pistol squad. Traveling with Gu Yiming were two male rifle shooters and one female shooter, all young athletes. Normally, etiquette would dictate that the female shooter take the front passenger seat, but Gu Yiming apologized and claimed it for himself. Fang Xiao gave him a meaningful look, half-smiling, but Gu Yiming pretended not to see it. After over a month apart, no one was going to stop him from getting closer to Fang Xiao.

Gu Yiming briefly introduced his teammates and Fang Xiao to each other. Fang Xiao had followed the World Cup closely and could match names to faces as soon as they were mentioned. He congratulated the female shooter who had made it to the finals and exchanged pleasantries with the two male rifle shooters, asking about the championship.

“The championship is scheduled for the last week of this month. The men’s 10m air rifle is on Wednesday, women’s on Thursday. Men’s air pistol? Let me check… Saturday. All in Putian.”

“Will the training camp after that be in Beijing? Or also in Putian?”

“Haven’t seen the notice yet, but I heard it might be in Tianjin.”

Tianjin, huh…

Fang Xiao glanced sideways at Gu Yiming’s tightly pursed lips and smiled faintly: “Not too far, just half an hour by intercity train.”

Gu Yiming whipped his head around to look at him, but Fang Xiao didn’t respond. With one hand on the steering wheel, he waited leisurely in the long line of cars at a red light on Chang’an Avenue. As dusk fell, streetlights flickered on one by one, and the bustling traffic flashed by like fleeting shadows. Only the sly smile lingering at the corner of Fang Xiao’s lips remained etched in Gu Yiming’s eyes.

This year’s national championship served as both the national team selection trials and the National Games quota competition, making the competition fierce, especially in the adjusted 10m air pistol event. Since the 50m pistol was removed from the Olympics, many multi-event athletes had chosen to continue with the 10m air pistol, and local teams were fielding full squads. When Gu Yiming checked in, he saw Li Yeqing’s name on the previous page’s roster for the Guizhou shooting team and couldn’t help but smile. They’d said they’d meet at the championship, and here they were.

Gu Yiming had been in excellent form recently, shooting 589 points in the 60-shot qualification round—the highest score of the competition and a new personal best. According to the national team selection rules, he had already secured his spot, making the finals results unimportant. But looking at Xie Qingyun several firing points away, Gu Yiming knew he had to finish this match well.

Every competition was a precious opportunity to practice. He was no longer a prodigy, so he had to work harder—much harder.

The men’s air pistol event was scheduled quite late in the championship, ending almost simultaneously with the women’s rifle three-position finals on the adjacent 50m range. Gu Yiming took silver, while the Zhejiang female shooter won gold. The rifle team also secured quotas in three other events, making it a triumphant return. Zhu Haibing treated the entire team to dinner. Xie Qingyun had originally been transferred from the Zhejiang team to the PLA team and had been good friends with Zhu Haibing back in the day, so he was also invited.

The Zhejiang team had sent over twenty young athletes across seven events for the championship. Zhu Haibing was busy looking after them and entrusted Xie Qingyun to Gu Yiming’s care. Xie Qingyun joked to Zhu Haibing, “This kid was ruthless today, and you’re having him entertain me?”

Gu Yiming protested innocently, “I wasn’t.”

Xie Qingyun glared at him. “That last series—a 10.6 and a 10.7—wasn’t ruthless? I broke out in a cold sweat when the referee announced those scores.”

Gu Yiming shook his head. “Still lost, though.”

“Your scoring series could’ve been better,” Xie Qingyun advised. “The first five shots could’ve been sharper.”

Gu Yiming replied, “I did my best.”

After discussing the match, Xie Qingyun glanced around and discreetly pulled out his phone, asking Gu Yiming, “Do you know where the championship’s official website is? I asked earlier—they said there’s no match footage, but there are photos. Some of me.”

Gu Yiming found it for him, and Xie Qingyun happily saved the photos he liked. Noticing Gu Yiming’s curious gaze, he explained, “I’m sending these to your sister-in-law. She loves how I hold the gun—says it looks like a movie scene, all cool and sexy.”

Gu Yiming’s heart stirred, and he started looking for photos of himself. Unfortunately, he’d been assigned to Lane D during the competition, far from the cameras on either side. Only his final 10.9 shot had been caught by a sharp-eyed local reporter.

Seeing him save photos too, Xie Qingyun teased, “Ming, you’re really in a relationship, aren’t you?”

Gu Yiming unconsciously licked his lips. Was he?

A tiny tremor of pure elation ran through his voice., “Almost.”

That night, back in his room, Gu Yiming sent the photo to Fang Xiao first, then rehearsed his flirting script. Once everything was ready, he kicked off his shoes and sat cross-legged on the bed, taking a moment to steady his emotions before calling Fang Xiao.

Fang Xiao answered instantly: “Xiao Gu?”

He picked up so fast that Gu Yiming froze, forgetting his planned opening lines. It seemed he was always this awkward around Fang Xiao—no wonder Fang Xiao kept teasing him for being young.

Gu Yiming stammered for a bit before mustering the courage to get to the point: “I was talking to Senior Xie Qingyun about the match earlier. He said his wife thinks the way he holds his gun is really sexy… What about you?”

“…”

“You said you liked the way I put one hand in my pocket. So… do you think it’s sexy? Would you…” Gu Yiming paused, “Would you get hard for me?”

“…”

Over the phone, Fang Xiao spoke with grave sincerity: “Xiao Gu, don’t you think… this is kind of awkward?”

“A little,” Gu Yiming admitted honestly.

Fang Xiao sighed in relief.

“So… do you think it’s sexy?”

Fang Xiao hung up. It was too awkward—so awkward his face burned.

A few seconds later, Gu Yiming called again: “Are you mad?”

“…No.”

“Can we keep talking?”

“…Xiao Gu, if you weren’t my little idol, I’d hang up on you again right now.”

“But I am.”

“Smug.” Fang Xiao laughed.

Gu Yiming fell silent for a moment before saying, “Fang Xiao, I miss you a little.”

Fang Xiao hummed, flustered, “Hm.”

“Next week, during the training camp in Tianjin… Can I visit you on the weekend?”

“…No need to go through all that trouble.”

Gu Yiming heard footsteps on Fang Xiao’s end, then Fang Xiao said, “Xiao Gu, open the door.”

Gu Yiming practically leaped off the bed, nearly twisting his ankle. He sprinted to the door and flung it open to find Fang Xiao leaning against the wall, grinning at him: “Flying in to watch matches—the mark of a true fan.”

Seeing Gu Yiming frozen in disbelief, Fang Xiao snapped his fingers and chuckled, “Couldn’t make it to New Delhi in time for a visa, but Putian? No problem.”

Gu Yiming pursed his lips, overwhelmed with things to say but unable to articulate any of them. He stood there stiffly, like a computer overheating and crashing.

Fang Xiao sighed, half-exasperated, half-amused. “Aren’t you going to invite me in?”

Gu Yiming belatedly stepped aside. The doorway was narrow, and as Fang Xiao brushed past him, their wrists touched. Gu Yiming instinctively grabbed his hand. Fang Xiao glanced back, and though Gu Yiming tensed, he didn’t let go—instead tightening his grip slightly.

Having just watched Gu Yiming compete that afternoon, Fang Xiao’s emotions were already stirred. Seeing Gu Yiming like this softened his heart. Instead of pulling away, he let Gu Yiming hold his hand and switched positions, nudging the door shut with his heel. As the lock clicked, he tilted his head and kissed Gu Yiming’s lips.

A very chaste, fleeting kiss.

Fang Xiao retreated immediately but didn’t go far. With one hand pressed to the back of Gu Yiming’s head, fingers tangled in his hair, their foreheads touching, he gazed intently at Gu Yiming from close range.

Gu Yiming asked, “Did you watch my match?” His voice was hoarse, as if he’d suddenly forgotten how to speak properly, with ten thousand thoughts clogging his throat and only this one sentence squeezing through.

“Amazing,” Fang Xiao murmured. “Xiao Gu, truly amazing. You shot so beautifully… Every shot from the elimination round was precise and steady. I smelled lithium…”

As he spoke, his lips moved, breath brushing Gu Yiming’s face. Those lips were soft.

Gu Yiming pinned Fang Xiao against the door and kissed him.

It was the kiss of a young man—clumsy and impulsive, burning with boiling possessiveness and equally obvious tenderness. He first tried to part Fang Xiao’s lips, and when he got no response, he nipped Fang Xiao’s lower lip in frustration. He didn’t bite hard enough to draw blood but still regretted his roughness and soothed the spot with his tongue.

Only then did Fang Xiao react. It had been too long since he’d last kissed anyone. His lips, damp and reddened by Gu Yiming’s tongue, trembled uncontrollably as they gradually yielded. Their tongues tangled. Gu Yiming was awkward at first, but Fang Xiao patiently guided him until he grew bolder—then too bold. Fang Xiao felt the lick against his palate, the depth making him shiver.

He should’ve blamed Gu Yiming’s inexperience, but he was dizzy with the strange passion instead. The wet sounds were obscenely loud, and Fang Xiao felt Gu Yiming’s hands settle on his waist.

The kiss lasted a long time, until Fang Xiao melted like candy in Gu Yiming’s arms. Clutching Gu Yiming’s shirt, he leaned against him, feeling the heat of his body through the fabric. Gu Yiming’s right hand pressed against the small of his back, his left supporting Fang Xiao’s shoulders—his embrace firm and steady.

Fang Xiao’s face burned uncontrollably. It wasn’t just the physiological response to kissing but something more shameful. As he’d told Tang Shao, he’d always seen Gu Yiming as a junior, and Gu Yiming’s psychological dependence had made him enjoy that dynamic. Even now, Gu Yiming’s entirely instinctive passion and Fang Xiao’s almost instructional response emphasized that gap.

To have his heart stirred by someone nearly a decade younger—Fang Xiao felt a flush of shame, he really wasn’t behaving with the dignity of an elder.

But when Gu Yiming pulled him close again, Fang Xiao didn’t push him away.