I could never quite get a read on Ling Xiao. After the second internal match, rumors that he was all style and no substance began to fly, yet he remained his usual self. He adhered to a schedule so precise it was practically robotic: out the door at 6:30 AM sharp, exiting the dormitory building at 6:33 AM sharp, with a margin of error no greater than ten seconds. If I happened to be washing my face on the balcony at that time, I only had to keep an eye on the clock; one look down, and I’d invariably see our "Team Heartthrob" stepping out of the main entrance.
Even his expressions were robotic. I’d never seen him so much as crack a smile. To put it kindly, he was "cool"; to put it bluntly, he was stone-faced. Sometimes, when we were exhausted from training and sitting together to rest, I’d tell a few jokes to lighten the mood. To survive Coach Hu’s purgatory, one had to learn to find joy in the struggle. I had a whole collection of quips saved on my phone and would drop one whenever the moment felt right. I’d have everyone around me doubled over in laughter, but Ling Xiao would just sit there with his eyes closed, his face a total blank. Once, as if he found me annoying, he even pointedly put on his earphones.
That gesture of putting on his earphones rankled me. Suddenly, all those jokes I’d saved felt like a waste of space. That night, after the lights went out in the dorm, Big Fat Gao tried to comfort me, saying that was just Ling Xiao’s temperament—you couldn’t beat a word out of him with a stick, so I shouldn’t take it to heart.
Lao Qi chimed in, "Dapang, you don't get it. With a face like our Team Heartthrob's, is it even possible for Mai-zi not to care?"
Big Fat Gao grunted. "I’ll admit that much. Even though I don't like the guy, his look and vibe are enough to make girls swoon and gay guys go wild." He shot me a disdainful look when he reached the "gay guys" part.
Hearing them talk about Ling Xiao’s face made me feel strangely guilty for some reason. I feigned indifference and said, "He’s alright, I guess. Is it really that exaggerated? Ugh, I’m tired. Let’s stop talking and sleep!" With that, I rolled over and turned my back to them.
Staring at the pitch-black wall, I wondered if I was being too obvious. My heart was pounding so hard I couldn't possibly sleep. It wasn't like everyone else was blind; the fact that Ling Xiao was handsome was as clear as day.
The men’s and women’s fencing teams trained at different bases, so Zishan was populated entirely by rough-and-tumble guys. In a place where males congregated without any females to distract them, the good-looking guys inevitably became the target of everyone’s teasing—it seemed to be a universal truth. Although the fencing team members weren't high schoolers anymore and weren't quite that immature, and Ling Xiao wasn't some delicate "pretty boy" type, I still didn't want his looks to be their topic of conversation.
I didn't even want them to think he was handsome. I’d be much happier if all these straight guys thought he was ugly. Usually, the aesthetics of straight men and gay men are worlds apart, but in Ling Xiao’s case, all paths led to the same conclusion. He possessed that one-in-a-million face that was a total knockout for women, gay men, and straight men alike.
In terms of looks, Ling Xiao was naturally my ideal type, but I didn't dare harbor any fantasies about him. Perhaps because seeing him on TV for the first time had been such a transcendent experience, I had subconsciously placed him on a very high pedestal. But now I was starting to regret it. I’d beaten him twice already—so why did I still feel like I couldn't hold my head up in front of him?
In the dead of night, I opened my eyes and gazed at the bright moon outside the window, wondering if I had put him on a pedestal that was just a bit too high...
***
After the results of the second internal match came out, I felt completely vindicated. Whether I posted selfies or cosplay photos on Weibo, "Sword Peerless" didn't show up to offer his opinions again. However, I didn't expect the Tieba forums to descend into a bloodbath. When word got out that I’d beaten Ling Xiao twice, the forum erupted. If the last time was a boiling pot, this time was a pressure cooker. My haters and trolls, in particular, were now so thoroughly face-slapped they were speechless.
The tide began to turn. Some said Ling Xiao was indeed all flash and no substance; some joked that when two powerhouses meet, one must be the "shou"; some bet that Ling Xiao would lose to me a third time. Someone even leaked "insider info" in the thread, claiming Ling Xiao had been arrogant and condescending back in school, and that losing to me was instant karma—a truly satisfying sight.
Honestly, these people... isn't the correct way to watch a match to congratulate the winner? Why do they only know how to kick the loser when he's down?
Filled with righteous indignation, I logged on and replied: *The fact that he’s "arrogant" just shows he’s strong. I bet Ling Xiao was a top student in high school. If I were as handsome as him, knew how to fence, had great grades, and was good at sports, I’d be arrogant too—especially toward people with "red-eye syndrome" like you.*
The leaker didn't reply, but that ID who had tried to drive a wedge between me and Ling Xiao before popped up: *Invincible Lonewolf, are you sick in the head? Are you a Ling Xiao fan or a Qiao Mai fan?*
Someone replied below him: *You don't get it, do you? This is what you call a "CP fan."*
It was true that Ling Xiao and I were rivals, but on matters of principle, I still had to defend him. After all, I planned to be hugging him on the Olympic podium in the future. I wouldn't want to be standing there as a champion with foreigners on both sides, looking like the odd one out. How much better would it be to have a handsome Chinese guy next to me for a hug?
Lao Qi came out of the bathroom and saw me muttering to the computer. "What are you whispering at the screen for? Holy crap, you’re not actually losing it, are you?"
"Losing it your sister! Let's go!"
I slung an arm around Lao Qi and headed out, only to see Ling Xiao opening his door diagonally across from us. He looked up at me. Usually, he’d give a little nod of acknowledgment, but today he didn't. He just looked at me without nodding, which made me incredibly nervous. I had this fleeting, terrifying sensation of being a cheater caught by my boyfriend. I hurriedly pulled my arm off Lao Qi’s shoulder. Ling Xiao ignored my nonsensical movement, pulled his door shut, and walked away with a light, airy step.
Lao Qi couldn't stand the low pressure this guy brought either, so we walked behind Ling Xiao like a couple of cowed grandsons. Lao Qi suddenly nudged me. "Aren't you going to say hello to your defeated opponent?"
"How dare you say that!" I hissed. "Could you be any louder? What if he hears you!"
"Doesn't he always wear earphones? Don't worry, he can't hear a thing."
Just then, we reached the ground floor. Someone at the warden’s office called out, "Ling Xiao, you have a package!"
Ling Xiao walked over to sign for it. Lao Qi and I were stunned—he wasn't wearing earphones today. Not at all!
I throttled Lao Qi’s neck while he poked my stomach. Ling Xiao signed for his package without a glance at the two of us acting like fools behind him. He began unwrapping it as he walked out the main door. Before long, the packaging was mostly torn away. Hearing the violent *rrip-rrip* of the tearing, I felt as if I were the one being shredded by hand.
The "drawn and quartered" packaging was casually fed to a roadside trash can by the Team Heartthrob. Even the trash can seemed to shudder. It was just a bin; how innocent it was!
I suddenly got a smack on the back of the head from Lao Qi. "What are you staring into the trash can for? Stop acting stupid!"
I immediately straightened up. For some reason, as I passed the bin, I felt compelled to peek inside. It was pretty stupid of me. I was terrified Ling Xiao would see, but fortunately, his back was already far in the distance.
Strange. Why did I keep feeling like he was laughing at me?
Feeling deeply worried, I said to Lao Qi, "I think he’s laughing at me."
"Laughing at you? You’re overthinking it. What’s so special about you that a guy with a dead trigeminal nerve would violate the laws of pathology just to laugh at you?"
Hey, Lao Qi’s words were actually quite pleasant to hear for once.
"What are you grinning for? Seriously, Mai-zi, I think you really need to see a psychologist..."
***
On the surface, Ling Xiao and I were at peace, but I always felt a turbulent undercurrent beneath. For instance, during breaks in our daily training, I’d still tell my jokes while he listened to his music, except my jokes were becoming less and less popular. These guys weren't laughing with much conviction anymore. Sometimes when they didn't laugh, I’d get huffy and think to myself that I wouldn't tell them any next time. I’d told so many funny ones; couldn't they give me some face and laugh at the occasional dud? When they didn't laugh, I always felt like Ling Xiao was laughing mockingly in his head!
Gradually, I stopped telling jokes altogether. During breaks, the training hall was often as silent as a graveyard.
This was nothing like I’d imagined. I had clearly prepared a "rivals-to-friends" script; why did it end up as "strangers until death"?
Returning from training that evening, I was physically and mentally exhausted. Fortunately, that forum thread had been deleted. Tieba wasn't a cesspool all the time; often, fencing beginners would come seeking guidance from experts, and I was one of those experts.
Just as I finished replying to a girl switching from foil to sabre, I saw that someone else had replied at the same time. His insights were remarkably similar to mine, just a condensed, "essence" version. It was Windless.
I hurried to say hello: *What a coincidence, you’re here too!*
Windless: *Mm. Learning from you, helpful Sabre Senior.*
Being called "Senior" by a girl is always satisfying, but being called "Senior" by Windless was a different kind of satisfaction entirely.
I asked Windless: *Did you switch from foil to sabre too?*
Windless: *No.*
That answer was certainly "gold-like" in its brevity. By comparison, his previous greeting had been quite generous with its adjectives and particles; he was actually treating me quite well. I was curious. Most people switch to sabre from foil; there aren't many who start directly with sabre like I did. I hadn't expected Windless to be the same. Come to think of it, I think Ling Xiao started directly with sabre too...
I asked Windless why he started with sabre.
Windless: *What about you? Why did you?*
Without thinking, I replied: *Sabre is great! It’s lightning-fast and looks incredibly cool!*
Windless: *You learned sabre just to look cool?*
How could I be so shallow! I replied: *No, it’s because of love. I love sabre.*
Windless: *Why do you love it?*
Huh? That question was a bit too philosophical. They say love knows no origin and has no reason, so how could there be a "why"? I leaned back in my chair and asked Lao Qi, "Qi-ge, why did you start learning sabre?"
Lao Qi said he didn't know. He’d been learning foil, but the coach told him to switch to sabre, so he did.
I shook my head. Drifting with the tide, no ambition.
I took a moment to trace back my own history with the blade. I’d learned quite a few things as a kid, the most painful of which was undoubtedly the violin. It was bitter work with zero sense of achievement. After six months or a year, all I could produce was a string of mosquito-like buzzing. I would have been better off learning the erhu; at least with the erhu, your neck doesn't get stiff, your hand doesn't hurt, and you get a stool to sit on. Once, I got into a fight with two boys. They were shooting at me with slingshots, and I had no weapon. They were making me furious. Suddenly, I remembered I had my violin bow. I shouted "Don't you dare run!" at them, fished the bow out of its case, and whipped those two until they fled in terror. At the time, I was mostly using moves I’d seen Zorro do in movies, jumping around and brandishing my "sword." If they weren't whipped to death, they were certainly scared to death by my posture.
Naturally, I got a sound thrashing when I got home. I just lay on the floor and refused to get up, saying I wouldn't learn the violin anymore—I wanted to learn fencing. My dad scolded me, asking what I knew about fencing. I immediately blurted out the name "Yakilev." My dad was stunned by the sudden mention of this impressive-sounding Russian guy. I found it incredible myself; I really did know about Yakilev, and I also knew about "Little Hu," who had brought so much pride to the Chinese team back then. It wasn't a coincidence. Since first grade, whenever the sports channel aired a fencing match, I never missed a single one. From initially liking Zorro, to watching fencing matches because of Zorro, to eventually falling in love with the great Yakilev and the unorthodox style of Little Hu—I had fallen in love with sabre without even realizing it.
Otherwise, why would they say the power of an idol is immense? I replied to Windless: *I have three idols: Zorro, Yakilev, and one more I won't mention—the disillusionment is almost complete there. Those three are why I started sabre.*
Windless didn't reply. Thinking about it, my reply had been quite delayed, so he’d probably logged off. I decided to wash up and head to bed too.
Before sleeping, I scrolled through Weibo for a bit. To my surprise, after lying low for a few days, "Sword Peerless" was back in full force. This time, he’d given me a new nickname: "Selfie Freak."
Sword Peerless: *Selfie Freak, are you a fencer or an idol? Can't you learn to be low-key like Ling Xiao? While you're taking selfies, what is he doing? That’s what you call a real love for fencing!*
Although I really hated this guy, his words were an uncanny coincidence. I thought back to my reply to Windless. I said I loved fencing, but in that regard, I really was inferior to Ling Xiao. He woke up early every day to run before dawn, and he stayed behind to do extra drills after we all left. Compared to him, I really was just someone who talked a big game...
Feeling depressed, I turned off my phone and went to sleep.
"What's wrong?" Big Fat Gao asked from the opposite bunk. "No bedtime selfie tonight? I was all ready to grab the first comment..."
"Not tonight," I said. "I’m getting up early tomorrow."
