Chapter 5 – Confession

To avoid the National Day holiday traffic jams, Changfan Club’s road trip was scheduled to depart at noon on Tuesday. Gu Yiming took advantage of Monday to thoroughly clean his dorm, packing his luggage according to Fang Xiao’s list—just enough to fill one suitcase.

He had arranged to meet Fang Xiao at 10 a.m. When Gu Yiming stepped out of the training base’s gate, he spotted a dark blue SUV parked under the shade of a tree not far away. Fang Xiao was already out of the car, leaning against the door while scrolling through his phone. He wore a dark gray trench coat over a light gray T-shirt, paired with slim black casual pants. Tall, handsome, aloof—a far cry from the cheerful, considerate image he had presented during their first meeting.

Gu Yiming stood at the base entrance for a moment, watching, before dragging his suitcase over. Hearing the wheels, Fang Xiao looked up, and his smile was so radiant it was like watching a painting come to life. Its light scattered any trace of gloom, so Gu Yiming temporarily set aside his doubts. Walking toward Fang Xiao under the sunlight, he greeted, “Fang Xiao, good morning.”

The convoy of five cars gathered at the parking lot nearest the highway entrance, with Boss Zheng leading the way and Fang Xiao’s car bringing up the rear. Fang Xiao took the wheel for the first leg out of Beijing, while Gu Yiming sat in the passenger seat. Tang Shao had rushed out of a taxi at the last second before departure, claiming he had stayed up all night in the studio finishing a project and was exhausted. Now, he sprawled across the backseat, catching up on sleep.

Gu Yiming stayed quiet the whole way, afraid of disturbing Tang Shao’s rest or distracting Fang Xiao while driving, simply gazing out the window. Fang Xiao glanced at him curiously and asked, “We haven’t even left Beijing yet—is the view that interesting?”

Gu Yiming nodded. “It is.”

He had spent most of his time shuttling between training bases, traveling only to airports and train stations for competitions, rarely getting the chance to go out and relax.

Fang Xiao seemed surprised. “Is training that busy?”

Busy? Gu Yiming thought to himself—not really. Compared to other national teams, the shooting team’s schedule was relatively lenient due to minimal physical training. Team members could easily balance training with academics, and some even pursued side businesses. Gu Yiming, who had practically abandoned his studies, lived such an ascetic life purely because of his personality.

Explaining all this would be troublesome and might lead to misunderstandings. In the end, Gu Yiming only said, “No.” Sensing Fang Xiao’s confusion, he added, “It’s my problem.”

But of course, that only deepened Fang Xiao’s bewilderment. Fang Xiao turned his head to look at him, and the gaze made Gu Yiming feel both restless and guilty. Fang Xiao genuinely cared about him—Gu Yiming shouldn’t brush him off. He knew that. Yet he still didn’t want to explain—he didn’t know how.

Gu Yiming hastily turned his gaze back out the window.

The car fell silent for a moment before Fang Xiao spoke again. “Do you like it?”

Gu Yiming looked back at him.

“This stretch of road, and other places like it…” Fang Xiao trailed off, laughing at himself. It was indeed a difficult question to articulate.

Hesitating, Gu Yiming replied, “Mm.”

An ambiguous question received an ambiguous answer. Fang Xiao seemed thoughtful. “Then, I’ll talk to Boss Zheng.”

Gu Yiming soon found out what Fang Xiao wanted to discuss. When the convoy stopped at a highway rest area, Fang Xiao murmured something to Boss Zheng, who then announced that they would detour into Taiyuan for the night, allowing anyone interested to explore the city.

Though Taiyuan was a provincial capital, it wasn’t exactly a tourist hotspot. Out of the group of thirteen, Gu Yiming was likely the only one interested in making the detour. Having lived a regimented life for so long, he wasn’t used to altering group plans for personal reasons. Looking at Fang Xiao, he felt both awkward and strangely touched—and then even more awkward for feeling that touched.

He didn’t say anything—not even “thank you.”

When they set off again from the rest area, Fang Xiao and Tang Shao switched seats, with Gu Yiming remaining in the passenger side. Tang Shao, fully recharged after eating, launched into a tirade about the latest nightmare vocal recording in their studio—some rookie idol with terrible pitch: “If you can’t hit the high notes, just sing lower! We can fix pitch! But no, he had to strain like a rooster crowing—absolute torture.”

Fang Xiao burst out laughing in the backseat. “That’s called professionalism.”

Tang Shao scoffed. “Professionalism? Then practice! Instead, he waits till the last minute, drags the whole studio into a 3 a.m. session, and delivers unusable takes. Fang Tiantian, you should’ve seen Old Zhou—he nearly cried when he found out he had to mix that track.”

Fang Xiao laughed even harder before finally catching his breath. “I’m sure the guy knows his limits—it’s not like they expect miracles.”

“Exactly! The problem is management’s dead set on pushing him! Xing Zongkai—” Tang Shao abruptly cut himself off. “Uh, I mean, his company’s selling him as a ‘young gentleman’—they can’t let him sound like a dubstep DJ, right?”

Fang Xiao’s expression froze for a split second when Tang Shao mentioned that name, though he quickly recovered. Had Gu Yiming not been idly watching through the rearview mirror, he might not have noticed. He studied Fang Xiao’s reflection, sensing there was some story there—but Gu Yiming still didn’t ask, didn’t even wonder.

He was empty.

They had left at noon and arrived in Taiyuan with time to spare. While most of the group returned to rest, only the three of them—plus Boss Zheng and Qi Fan—headed to the night market. Qi Fan, a Shanxi native, knew the local food scene well. A bowl of lamb offal stew had Tang Shao raving, though Fang Xiao and Gu Yiming barely touched theirs.

Fang Xiao remarked, “Xiao Gu’s from Zhejiang, right? Not your taste?”

Gu Yiming nodded honestly. “A bit too salty.”

“Same here,” Fang Xiao grinned. After a brief excuse to Qi Fan, he turned to Gu Yiming. “Feel like exploring?”

Gu Yiming asked, “Explore what?” Despite the question, he was already following Fang Xiao out of the restaurant. Outside, the quiet main road was dotted with streetlights filtering through tree shadows, with occasional cyclists passing by.

“No idea,” Fang Xiao admitted cheerfully. “This is my first time in Taiyuan too.”

Gu Yiming met his gaze, confirming he meant it. Fang Xiao spread his hands—direction didn’t matter—so Gu Yiming closed his eyes. Listening carefully, he pointed to the right. “That way. There’s a river.”

He could hear the faint murmur of water.

They wandered aimlessly along the Fen River, crossing from one bridge to another. The riverbanks were lined with parks and greenery, but the cooling weather and sparse lighting left the area deserted. The river flowed gently, its nighttime currents hushed like the earth’s steady breathing.

Gu Yiming, noticing how thin Fang Xiao was—perhaps not in the best health—positioned himself on the windward side, his eyes fixed on the dark water. He was from Huzhou, Zhejiang, a land of lakes and rivers, but his school and dormitory had been away from the water, leaving him unaccustomed to its presence. He wanted to ask Fang Xiao where he was from, but the words stuck in his throat. It had been so long since he’d tried to learn anything about anyone.

In the end, Gu Yiming only said two things: “Thank you,” and “I’m sorry.”

There were many things he owed Fang Xiao gratitude for, and just as many apologies. His personality was flawed—flaws once excused by his undeniable shooting prowess, a justified arrogance. But now, even his air pistol had betrayed him, leaving no excuses.

Shooting wasn’t like other sports. There were no external factors to blame—no being too short, too weak, genetically unsuited, or previously injured. Those justifications, which could lend dignity to failure in other disciplines, didn’t apply here. Poor performance was purely your own fault. Everything in shooting was within the control of an ordinary, healthy person—it didn’t even require perfect vision. Gu Yiming’s fall had no reason except himself—his heart was falling.

He had understood the moment he saw that photo on Fang Xiao’s Moments. He knew what version of himself Fang Xiao had liked—and what he had become. Fang Xiao’s expectations mirrored those of his coaches, the shooting team, everyone around him. He was sorry for shattering those expectations—sorry for failing the team, his coach, and his own dedication to the sport.

The guilt ran too deep, emptying him when he tried to cast it off; it was too heavy to lift. What remained was just a shell named Gu Yiming—hollow inside.

He struggled to articulate this, but his limited expressiveness and reluctance to communicate trapped the words inside. All he managed was: “I’m not the Gu Yiming you liked.”

He didn’t know if Fang Xiao understood.

Fang Xiao replied, “It’s okay.”

He stopped walking, waiting for Gu Yiming to turn and face him. Despite being as thin as a skeleton, Fang Xiao always stood straight, unapologetically matching Gu Yiming’s height. Meeting his eyes calmly, Fang Xiao repeated softly, “It’s okay, Xiao Gu. Really, it’s okay.”

How could it be okay? But Gu Yiming couldn’t voice that. Staring back, he found himself at a loss for words. Fang Xiao looked at him as if he knew it couldn’t possibly be okay—yet still believed it was.

Gu Yiming was empty, with nothing to repay Fang Xiao’s kindness. But if Fang Xiao already knew that and still chose to step closer, there was nothing Gu Yiming could do. He wasn’t worldly enough to coldly push Fang Xiao away, nor cruel enough to test his limits by hurting him—

Perhaps, just perhaps, Gu Yiming thought, what he needed to test were his own limits.