The clash with Ling Xiao didn't start with sparks flying or the earth shaking. On the contrary, perhaps because it was our first time facing each other, we both played quite conservatively at the start.
I had watched almost every one of Ling Xiao’s matches. I knew he used few feints and was familiar with his clean, decisive style. But facing him in person on the piste, I couldn't help but marvel at how much more composed he was than I had imagined. I used to joke with Old Seven that Ling Xiao was "a beautiful youth in his prime who fences like an old man playing chess." Now, I was being firmly suppressed by this "old man" in a beautiful youth’s skin. The more composed he remained, the more that unbreakable, impenetrable pressure felt like the gathering strength before a storm, wrapping around me from all sides until I couldn't breathe.
I could hear my own breathing growing erratic, and sweat began to bead on my forehead. I wondered if Ling Xiao felt the same. I wasn't afraid of the pressure, nor was I afraid of losing to him; what I feared was that while it was a torrential downpour on my side, it was still a gentle breeze on his.
With forty-five seconds left in the first period, we were at the sixth touch, the score tied at 3-3. At least I wasn't trailing in points. Whether or not I could take the lead in the first period was a matter of psychological advantage, so I was determined to win this round no matter what. Ling Xiao seemed to be of the same mind. The match entered a stalemate in those final seconds. After five consecutive double-lights where we hit each other simultaneously, there were only twenty-odd seconds left in the period.
This time, I changed my strategy. The moment Lao Hu shouted "Allez," I lunged, catching him off guard! Ling Xiao parried my blade, and I used the momentum to graze his arm, trying for a quick touch. Unfortunately, he saw through my intent. He seized the timing of my attack and executed a beautiful counter-offensive, dropping into a very low but wide lunge. His sabre flashed past my shoulder like lightning, but at the last moment, it veered away from the target area.
I retreated quickly, widening the distance while staring intently at Ling Xiao’s black mask. I couldn't see his eyes, but that didn't stop me from sensing his calm, powerful gaze.
Having just escaped his blade by a hair, I didn't feel lucky. As soon as I retreated, Ling Xiao began a continuous press. For a moment, I could only fall back repeatedly in defense. Once Ling Xiao’s offensive gained momentum, it was like a surging river; all my attempts to counter-attack were flicked away, blocked, parried, or cut down by his blade, one after another...
My brain told me to look for an opening to counter, otherwise I’d be pushed all the way to the end, but my body felt as if it were caught in a vice. He forced me into a cramped space where I had no room to maneuver. My defensive instincts were faster than my intent to counter-attack, and the counter-attack simply wouldn't come.
I searched desperately for a gap in his defense, and just then, Ling Xiao’s attack came to an abrupt halt.
"Qiao Mai."
The tip of his blade was right at the tip of my nose. A glint of white light flowed down from the crescent-shaped guard, piercing my eyes like a needle. Through the black metal mesh, I thought I heard Ling Xiao whisper my name.
The sudden pause after that lightning-fast offensive felt like being yanked out of the water after nearly drowning. In that second, I instinctively knocked his blade aside and slashed my sabre across his sword arm.
Ling Xiao allowed me to land that heavy blow on his arm, but my belated light and the referee’s voice rang out at the same time. Lao Hu announced Ling Xiao’s point.
"Qiao Mai," Lao Hu said, "you’re off the back line."
WHAT?! I whipped my head around—the back line was nowhere to be seen behind me!
I had actually been pushed off the line?! I looked down at the unmistakable white line in front of my toes, then looked back at Ling Xiao in disbelief. In official matches, I’d had experiences where I was forced to the edge for a final stand, but I had never once had both feet go past the back line. Fencers are very sensitive to the length of the piste and their distance from the end; if I were at the danger zone, my brain should have told me.
No wonder Ling Xiao’s final blow didn't land. It was because both my feet were already out...
I wanted to scream it out—*Damn, he’s strong!! So strong, so strong, so strong!!!*
Thinking back on that series of attacks that pushed me off the line, I had intended to find a break in his timing to counter, but his rhythm was unpredictable. It felt like I wanted to sing R&B with him, but he suddenly started playing Jazz. Just when I managed to get into the Jazz rhythm, he switched to Rock...
Ling Xiao returned to his end of the piste. I took off my mask and wiped my forehead; I was drenched in sweat. Looking at Ling Xiao now, I felt like he was so handsome he was practically glowing! Old Seven was right—even if I didn't propose to him, I’d eventually end up on my knees before him.
During the break after the first period, Old Seven grumbled at me from below the piste, "Snap out of it! You’re staring so hard his head’s gonna bleed! If you ever make it to the Olympics, you’d better pray Ling Xiao goes easy on you, otherwise he’ll take you down just by striking a few poses!"
I took a sip of water and thought to myself: *What do you guys know? I’m not dazed, I’m in awe!*
At the other end of the piste, Ling Xiao sat quietly on the bench, screwing the cap back onto his bottle. He looked down, hands resting on his knees, his breathing deep and slow. In my heart, this was how a powerhouse should be: a body with the raw, powerful physique of a young male, but a soul like an enlightened immortal or a high monk who had seen through everything.
The second period began quickly. I couldn't wait to put my mask back on, flexing my blade as I stepped onto the piste to loosen my feet. If the rules allowed shouting during a match, I would have yelled at Ling Xiao right then: *Do that again! That was amazing!*
Ling Xiao donned his mask with one hand. The moment the metal mesh pulled down, I had the fleeting sensation that the look in his eyes was even more vivid than when the mask was off. It was still cold, but instantly filled with pheromones and aggression.
Winning or losing no longer concerned me. I hoped he would push me off the back line again; this time, I wanted to see if I could counter him.
Regrettably, that exhilarating offensive momentum didn't reappear in the second or third periods. I felt like he wanted to launch another heavy attack, but it never quite materialized. One possible reason was that I was now on guard and wouldn't easily give him the opening. Another reason... well, even if the mask hid his fatigue, after three periods of such a tug-of-war, it was impossible for him to put as much power into an attack as he did in the first.
With another quick touch to the hand, I reached match point in the third period, 14-14. Ling Xiao flexed his fingers; I figured that slash I’d landed on his arm earlier must have made it go a bit numb.
I pressed my advantage. When my final blade landed as a sneak attack on his flank, I actually felt a bit reluctant for it to end.
The match concluded to a round of applause. I took off my mask, waiting for Ling Xiao to do the same so I could deliver my prepared lines: *Good game, good game, you really live up to the reputation! I’ve been watching your matches since middle school, that suppression in the first period was so satisfying...* A speech totaling about three minutes. Sigh, it wasn't easy for me; this was the only time he wouldn't be wearing earplugs...
To my surprise, Ling Xiao took off his mask, turned around, and walked off the strip, completely ignoring me. He had the same "eternal glacier" silhouette leaving as he did arriving, seemingly unaffected by this loss.
But if he wasn't upset, why was he ignoring me?
I stood on the piste, watching him carry his blade and mask out of the training hall. As he walked out the door, he casually ran a hand through his damp hair, looking even more cool and collected than me, the winner! Hey, have some guts and look back at me, will you?!
I thought to myself that this guy was way too petty. Even though I won, he didn't exactly lose face on the strip; we were evenly matched. How could he be such a sore loser!
***
After the match, I was burning up and planned to change. As I walked toward the locker room, I heard rustling inside. Ling Xiao was in there. I had no choice but to wait outside. After a moment, I felt ridiculous—it wasn't a women's locker room, why couldn't I go in?
I took a step forward and then shrank back. For some reason, I felt a lack of confidence. Maybe it was because I had "ulterior motives" toward him? Ugh, why would I describe myself like that? I’m a promising, outstanding young man! Still, I’d better wait for him to finish changing before I go in. After all, I’m gay; I don't want to take advantage of him.
I waited patiently outside for the "Team Flower" to finish his ablutions. Just then, I heard Ling Xiao pick up a phone call.
"Yeah, I’m at the club. Just finished a match... nothing important... just a practice match... winning or losing doesn't matter, I was just humoring the kid..."
Holy crap! Who the hell is a "kid"?!
I was so angry I tried to roll up my sleeves, only to realize I hadn't changed out of my fencing jacket yet and the sleeves wouldn't budge. Just as I was preparing to heroically kick the door open and catch him off guard, I heard a locker door "thud" shut inside.
When Ling Xiao came out, I was hiding around the corner of the hallway.
Once the Team Flower’s silhouette disappeared at the end of the hall, I crouched down and gave myself a slap.
What is wrong with me?!
***
You see, our fencing world is also a place of storms and strife, filled with brainless fans, haters, and low-level trash talk. Sure enough, news of the internal match leaked out and was being spread like wildfire.
On the night the match ended, a thread appeared on the Fencing Enthusiasts Tieba forum saying I had beaten Ling Xiao in a match. The long-dormant forum exploded. All sorts of theories emerged: some said Ling Xiao was just a pretty face, others said I just got lucky...
To the person who said I got lucky: do I have a grudge with you?! I couldn't take it, so I rolled up my sleeves and started typing.
Me: *How is Qiao Mai winning against Ling Xiao "lucky"? Are all those championships he won fake?*
That person replied: *Ling Xiao was absent when he won those championships!*
Me: *Isn't it the same the other way around? And right now, Qiao Mai beat Ling Xiao [taps blackboard]. So you're saying your idol can be beaten by mere luck? He doesn't need skill to be defeated?*
Tsk tsk, that sarcasm was smooth. I’m the type who excels under pressure; once pushed, my IQ dominates!
Me: *And you brainless fans and haters should just give it a rest. Maybe they’re good friends in private? Okay, maybe not right now, but what if they are in the future? Are you guys going to cry and beg them to break up?*
I regretted that last part a bit after posting; it sounded a bit like the tragic pining of someone who couldn't get what they wanted.
However, I must have hit the nail on the head because the fans and haters suddenly went as quiet as chickens. It was rare for my combat power to be this high, yet I had no chance to battle the masses. I boredly hit F5 to refresh, and to my surprise, I saw a reply from Wufeng.
Wufeng: *How do you know they can become good friends?*
Seeing Wufeng’s ID always put me in a good mood. I felt like no matter what he replied, he was on my side. After Wufeng appeared, the brainless ones were revitalized. Someone replied: *Exactly, haven't you seen the Weibo gossip? How could these two ever be friends? they're like fire and water. Stop dreaming~*
I ignored the idiots and replied directly to Wufeng: *Mutual respect between heroes!*
Wufeng: *But it seems no one here wants to see them become good friends.*
Me: *Why?*
Wufeng: *I don't know. Maybe because they look like people from two different worlds.*
A hater popped up again: *Wufeng-dada is right!*
Wufeng: *Don't call me dada.*
Hahaha, I told you he was on my side, but you didn't believe me! But speaking of me and Ling Xiao, the difference really did seem quite large. I replied: *Yeah, Ling Xiao does seem pretty arrogant. He’s usually ice-cold to everyone.*
Wufeng: *Is that so? You know him well?*
Crap, I accidentally got too real! I hurried to reply: *No way, I’m just guessing! Look at how he brushes off post-match interviews with "mm," "yeah," "that’s right." He never gives the reporters a good face, and he never smiles for the audience. He looks pretty arrogant, right?*
I waited for a while with no reply. I thought to myself that I wasn't exactly "blackening" Ling Xiao’s name; I was just stating facts. I refreshed again, and a yellow smiley face popped up on the screen. Heavens, I stared at the screen in disbelief. Wufeng actually sent me a smiley face?!
Although we hadn't interacted much, I had lurked and watched Wufeng many times. This guy was always a man of few words, let alone using emojis. Wait, during that time he didn't reply, was he looking for the smiley face? Aww, how cute is that~~
Wufeng: *They don't necessarily have to be friends.*
I hit F5 again.
Wufeng: *Having a well-matched opponent is enough.*
I didn't understand that. Why couldn't they be both friends and rivals? That line of thinking felt a bit pessimistic.
After thinking it over, I replied: *If I could find an opponent I could acknowledge for a lifetime, I would definitely try to be friends with him.*
Wufeng didn't reply again and went offline shortly after. I also shut down my computer and went to bed.
That night, I dreamed of a stadium at the top of the world. A long piste stretched out beneath my feet. My opponent stood before me, dressed in white with a black mask. For some reason, I knew the person behind the mask was Ling Xiao. He raised his blade to salute me. Behind us, the camera flashes were like a surging tide, witnessing the moment our blades crossed.
I knew it was a dream, but I hoped to stand on such a stage with him—as rivals, and as friends.
***
Chinese | English | Notes/Explanation
--- | --- | ---
佩剑 | Sabre | One of the three weapons in fencing.
剑道 | Piste | The strip on which a fencing match takes place.
弓步 | Lunge | A fundamental fencing attack move.
格开 | Parry | To deflect an opponent's blade.
底线 | Back line | The end boundary of the fencing piste.
偷手 | Hand-touch / Pick at the hand | A common sabre tactic of hitting the opponent's hand or arm.
赛末点 | Match point | The final point needed to win the match.
小朋友 | Kid / Little friend | A diminutive term Ling Xiao uses for Qiao Mai.
无风 | Wufeng | Literally "No Wind," the username of the forum user.
贴吧 | Tieba | A popular Chinese communication forum (Baidu Tieba).
大大 | Dada | A respectful term for a prominent figure or "big shot" in online communities.
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Point to Point: The Fencer’s Heart | Chapter 10 | Pushed to the Edge | Novela.app | Novela.app
