Chapter 27 – But Not Yet

The national team’s new training session began, and the first order of business was a physical examination. Young athletes newly recruited to the national team were typically the cream of the crop—strong, healthy, and the epitome of fitness. But after years of dedication to their craft, reaping achievements and glory, injuries inevitably followed. Among the national team members, the older athletes were like walking exhibitions of occupational hazards in shooting. Qin Shan had retired due to injuries back in the day, so he took this matter especially seriously. Every physical examination report from the men’s pistol team had to pass through his hands.

After completing his final test, Gu Yiming ran into Qin Shan, who was frowning outside the door.

Qin Shan took his examination report, skimmed it, and sighed. “Another one—hearing and vision both declining. I keep telling you all, practice more dry firing and less live ammunition.”

That said, as a former athlete turned head coach, Qin Shan understood perfectly well that live ammunition and dry firing held entirely different meanings for athletes at this level. He shook his head and said, “At least your spine is still in good shape—keep it that way. The fitness team has a new coach; I’ll have him add some yoga stretches for you all. Don’t end up like your senior brother.”

Gu Yiming knew Xie Qingyun had long-standing issues with his lower back. Hearing Qin Shan’s words, he guessed Xie’s condition had recently worsened. The gossip about Xie retiring after the next Olympics might very well become reality due to his injuries.

Once formal training began, the new fitness coach indeed adjusted the regimen significantly, just as Qin Shan had intended. In competitive shooting, the human body acts as a gun mount, with very fixed support points. The new training methods differed too much from what Gu Yiming was accustomed to, temporarily throwing off his body positioning and causing a slight dip in his performance.

The second leg of the World Cup was scheduled for early May, preceded by two selection trials. The first trial coincided with Gu Yiming’s lowest point in form. He scored 574 in the qualifiers, barely making it to the finals, where he placed sixth. While not a disastrous result, it dropped his World Cup qualification points from second to fourth place.

Qin Shan had no issue with Gu Yiming’s finals performance but was deeply dissatisfied with the sharp drop in his qualifier scores. Concerned that Gu Yiming’s form might be fluctuating again, he decided to have a heart-to-heart with the young athlete. However, when he went to Gu Yiming’s room, he found only a new teammate engrossed in a mobile game ranked match. Asked about Gu Yiming’s whereabouts, the teammate said he had gone to Beijing—why, he didn’t know.

Why else? Qin Shan figured it out after a brief moment of reflection. He set the matter aside for now and lectured the new teammate about balancing work and rest, cutting down on gaming, and preserving his eyesight.

Gu Yiming had left the training base right after his match and was now on the Beijing-Tianjin intercity train, nearing Beijing. A few days earlier, Fang Xiao had mentioned that his landlord was graduating and returning home, planning to convert the apartment entirely into a recording studio. Fang Xiao had found a new place and was preparing to move, so Gu Yiming volunteered to help.

Fang Xiao was already waiting at Beijing South Station. After picking up Gu Yiming, they headed north. The new apartment he had his eye on was on Shangdi West Road, not far from Anhe Bridge and still convenient for helping out at the old studio. The landlord, a returnee from abroad, reportedly planned to establish a studio based there and had invited Fang Xiao to be the arranger. Though Fang Xiao wasn’t particularly optimistic about his friend’s business acumen, he accepted the offer gladly and agreed to oversee the studio’s renovation progress.

Fang Xiao called it a move, but he didn’t have much to relocate. The equipment purchased for the studio had been left behind as part of his investment stake; he only took his keyboard and synthesizer. Gu Yiming waited by the car, holding two 49-key MIDI controllers, as Fang Xiao wheeled out a storage box filled with clothes and daily necessities. Add a desktop and a laptop to that, and that was the entirety of Fang Xiao’s belongings.

Gu Yiming vaguely felt the amount was too little—then he thought about himself, sometimes heading to summer training with just a backpack and no suitcase, and realized he had no room to judge.

Neither of them had yet put down roots.

The rented apartment on Shangdi West Road was a furnished one-bedroom unit under forty square meters, truly move-in ready as advertised. The hardware was decent, though the electrical wiring was oddly laid out, and many furnishings were purely decorative. After tidying up and cleaning, they discovered the exquisite wooden coffee table in the corner couldn’t accommodate Fang Xiao’s keyboard and synthesizer. They made a trip to IKEA, returning with a modular work desk and storage racks, spending half the night assembling them according to the instructions.

By the time they finished setting up, both were exhausted, sprawled at opposite ends of the sofa bed, too tired to move. Fang Xiao was alright, but Gu Yiming, who prided himself on his stamina and endurance, hadn’t expected moving to be so draining. At his young age, he felt like he’d grasped the harsh reality of Beijing’s housing market: “Moving is exhausting… No wonder housing prices keep rising here.”

Fang Xiao sighed too. “This landlord only allows a one-year lease—who knows how long we’ll even stay here… If I have to move too many times, I won’t be able to take it. I’ll have to buy a place within the next couple of years.” Fortunately, his work allowed him to operate remotely, so location wasn’t a major concern, and he could scrape together a down payment.

He nudged Gu Yiming’s calf with his foot—the younger man was resting with his eyes closed—and joked, “Xiao Gu, you’d better work hard to stay in the national team. Otherwise, we’ll be long-distance.”

Gu Yiming opened one eye to look at him. “Would that count as a long-distance relationship?”

Did it? Fang Xiao only smiled, not answering.

It was too late, so Fang Xiao let Gu Yiming stay the night, enlisting his help for more chores the next day. Gu Yiming agreed readily. Helping Fang Xiao settle into his new home gave him an inexplicable sense of belonging—completely different from his affiliations with the Zhejiang Provincial Team or the national team. This feeling was deeply personal and tender.

Gu Yiming had some unresolved feelings about family.

His name had been given by his father, meaning “to remember this moment.” Gu’s father had been an IT specialist in the military, and his parents’ marriage, being a military union, meant they rarely saw each other. When Gu Yiming was six, his father retired, but instead of reuniting the family, his parents divorced soon after. Gu Yiming never learned the reason—no one told him. There was only a court notice stating that his father had committed a “major fault,” and custody was awarded to his mother.

After the divorce, Gu’s mother changed his name—not his surname, but the character “铭” (ming, “to engrave”) to “鸣” (ming, “to sound”), evoking the idiom “一鸣惊人” (to amaze the world with a single brilliant feat). Over a year later, his mother remarried. His stepfather took issue with Gu Yiming, first sending him off to a sports team to keep him out of sight, then, after family negotiations, relinquishing custody back to his biological father. His name was changed back to Gu Yiming once more.

“To remember this moment”—but what “moment” was it referring to? His father never explained. Not long after, his father left Zhejiang for work in Shenzhen, leaving Gu Yiming in the sports team. The switch from table tennis to shooting had been entirely Gu Yiming’s own decision. During the early days of the shooting team, when training was partially self-funded, the expenses were considerable. When his father returned to Huzhou and heard about it, he paid without batting an eye. But beyond that, there was nothing.

His father stayed away for nearly a decade, returning twice a year at first. By the time Gu Yiming entered high school, the visits stopped altogether. As a child, Gu Yiming spent New Year’s at his maternal grandparents’ home. The specifics were hazy—he’d been too young—but he vaguely remembered his grandparents, mother, and himself, four generations under one roof, perhaps once harmonious. After his parents’ divorce, he spent New Year’s at his paternal grandparents’ instead. It was a lively, bustling family, with reunion dinners requiring four round tables. Everyone was warm and affectionate—except for him, the solitary one.

At first, he’d felt a bit lonely, but he grew accustomed to it. Who would have thought that now, of all times, he’d start feeling greedy again?

A one-bedroom apartment was cramped to begin with. A bed was already placed against the windowed wall, and now the sofa bed in the living room was unfolded too, leaving the dresser and coffee table squeezed between the two beds like a rolling mountain range. The main light was off, leaving only a dim bedside lamp casting its glow—half on one side of the “mountains,” half on the other.

When Gu Yiming came out of the shower, he saw Fang Xiao buried under the blankets, facing away from him, hidden in the dark. Only the faint glow of his phone screen was visible, its layout vaguely familiar. After a moment’s thought, Gu Yiming ventured, “The second selection trial was today.”

Fang Xiao immediately set his phone aside, flipping the covers back and half-sitting up to look at Gu Yiming across the “mountain range.”

Gu Yiming said, “It was mediocre. The Munich leg might be in jeopardy.”

Fang Xiao didn’t seem surprised at all—he’d clearly been reading the Shooting Sports Center’s news release earlier. His lips moved slightly, as if unsure how to react—wavering between frowning in regret and smiling in consolation. That unmistakable tension and concern pleased Gu Yiming immensely, even making him a little giddy.

Gu Yiming knew Fang Xiao appeared gentle and soft on the outside but was stubborn to the core. Even after their heart-to-heart, he still clung to his own logic—those notions about fleeting emotions, age gaps, psychology, and life experience were all neatly compartmentalized. Occasional teasing was fine, but when it came to serious discussions, Fang Xiao held firm to his six-month rule. No one could argue him down, least of all the inarticulate Gu Yiming.

But perhaps, in the wake of this failed match, he’d found a shortcut.

The thoughts of home had warmed Gu Yiming’s mind slightly. Unconsciously, he took a step toward Fang Xiao—only to bump his shin against the coffee table. The pain was dull yet persistent, like a long-unnoticed but undeniable yearning.

Gu Yiming complained pitifully, “I’ve been in poor form lately.” He rarely deliberately played the weak card and worried Fang Xiao might see through him. But love blinds—Fang Xiao only gazed at him with concern. Gu Yiming felt relieved yet guilty. “There are too many uncertainties. Even during training, I often think of you. You always evade me, and the pressure makes me uncomfortable. I thought, if you…”

Gu Yiming suddenly stopped. Fang Xiao was no longer looking at him. Curling his right leg, Fang Xiao hugged his knee, burying his chin in the crook of his elbow, silently accepting the implicit accusation in Gu Yiming’s words. His lips were pressed tight, brows slightly furrowed, his profile shadowed and sorrowful in the dim light—like a scene from some arthouse film, reminding Gu Yiming of Fang Xiao’s past confession: Prone to breaking down.

What was he doing? Casting himself as a porcelain vase plummeting from a rooftop, trying to force Fang Xiao to open his arms. But he’d forgotten—Fang Xiao could piece him back together only because he, too, had once been so fragile.

Standing in the dark, watching the lamplight outline Fang Xiao’s curled-up silhouette, Gu Yiming found his manipulative tactic utterly tasteless.

“I was lying,” he admitted. “It has nothing to do with you. It’s the new fitness training—I haven’t adjusted yet.”

Fang Xiao sighed softly, “Is that so?”

Gu Yiming couldn’t decipher the emotion behind it. He realized he’d likely made a mistake. Shortcuts didn’t exist—the mountain range still lay between them. He couldn’t even deceive himself—why try to deceive Fang Xiao?

Gu Yiming regretted it. “Fang Xiao, I’m sorry.”

After a pause, Fang Xiao replied, “It’s alright.” But his tone suggested otherwise. Head bowed, staring at a patch of light on the floor, he murmured, “Xiao Gu, I’m not angry. I’m just a little confused—is there something wrong with my personality? Am I not giving enough, driving those close to me to resort to demands? Using deceit to stir up my guilt and wring concessions… That’s not like you.”

Gu Yiming stood frozen, at a loss. Fang Xiao’s words saddened him, making him blame himself for lying. Only now did he grasp the cruelty of that lie—like selfishly plucking a rosebud that was straining to bloom for you. “No. Fang Xiao, it’s not your fault. I was just impatient and wanted to… I was too arrogant.”

Fang Xiao looked up at him. “Xiao Gu, what do you want?”

The blow from his earlier lie was too heavy—Gu Yiming didn’t dare claim he wanted nothing. He answered honestly, “Just now, I wanted to convince you to accept me right away… But now, Fang Xiao, I just want to hold you.”

Fang Xiao studied him for a moment, as if gauging his sincerity. Gu Yiming tensed like he was on the firing point, instinctively straightening his posture and regulating his breathing. Then he saw Fang Xiao rise barefoot, brace a hand on the dresser, and leap lightly over the coffee table.

Fang Xiao stepped up to Gu Yiming, sliding his arms around his waist from under his ribs. The apartment was well-heated; Gu Yiming wore only a long-sleeved T-shirt and trousers. Un-dried water droplets trailed down his neck, dampening Fang Xiao’s cheek as he rested his chin on Gu Yiming’s shoulder. “Xiao Gu,” he said softly, “next time you want something, don’t lie to me—just tell me, alright? Whatever I can give, I’ll give it all to you.”

He already knew. Gu Yiming thought—this sly, stubborn Fang Xiao had always indulged him. He’d known this all along, but hearing Fang Xiao say it aloud made the same truth softer, sweeter. It was unbearable.

Gu Yiming gave a quiet “Mm” and returned the embrace. At first, it was tentative—his arms loosely encircling Fang Xiao’s back—then gradually tightening. He hugged Fang Xiao so tightly, it was as if he were molding a pile of sand into shape.

Only as his emotions settled did he regain awareness of his surroundings. Fang Xiao was still barefoot, toes curling against the cold floor. He struggled free from Gu Yiming’s grip, couldn’t find his slippers, and simply sat on the sofa bed. Gu Yiming remained standing until Fang Xiao tugged him down beside him. Hesitating briefly, Gu Yiming draped an arm over Fang Xiao’s shoulders. Fang Xiao didn’t pull away. After a few seconds, he leaned into Gu Yiming’s embrace.

“I was too harsh earlier,” Fang Xiao murmured, resting his head on Gu Yiming’s arm but not looking at him—just staring at the sliver of light from the lamp. “Xiao Gu, if you really lied to me, I might’ve been angry. But you didn’t—you stopped yourself quickly. You’re so young, and this is your first intimate relationship. My attitude affects you, and it’s natural for you to try different approaches—attachment, avoidance, control, submission, aggression, defense… I thought about all this when I agreed to be with you.

“Back then, I thought, ‘Xiao Gu doesn’t know anything—how exhausting will this relationship be?’ But there was no helping it—Xiao Gu is adorable, and just seeing him makes me happy. I was willing to make allowances. What I didn’t expect was that you’d do so well, while I fell short. I still haven’t figured out boundaries—like earlier, I overreacted.”

Gu Yiming shook his head.

Fang Xiao turned to look at him. “Xiao Gu, I’m not deliberately testing you. I just need more time to prepare. My heart isn’t the same as when I was younger—it doesn’t race as fast, but it still beats for you. Please don’t dislike me for it, alright?”

Gu Yiming said solemnly, “I’ll wait for you.”

Fang Xiao smiled, then reached up to press a light kiss to Gu Yiming’s earlobe.

The next evening, Gu Yiming boarded the intercity train back to Tianjin. As the city lights faded past the window, plunging into pure night, he suddenly received a message from Fang Xiao. The train was crossing the Beijing-Tianjin border, and the signal was spotty—the screenshot took forever to load.

It was a booking confirmation for intercity high-speed rail tickets. Three round-trip tickets for weekends, spanning from next week to the period of the second World Cup leg, with Fang Xiao’s name in the passenger field.

Fang Xiao’s follow-up message read: “Train hard. Wait for me in Tianjin.”

Gu Yiming stared at the words, thinking—if this person weren’t so good, perhaps he could’ve been a little more patient.