When I first joined the national team, I was practically on the verge of a mental breakdown because Ling Xiao truly seemed to have no idea who I was.
Once, while eating in the cafeteria, I happened to sit at the table next to his. Gao Dapang and Lao Qi were beside me, deeply engrossed in a discussion about parrying techniques against a fleche. Seizing the moment, I decided to "guide" Gao Dapang right then and there—a live, practical demonstration. I was going all out just to make my presence felt! The two of us clashed our chopsticks together, creating quite a noisy *clatter and bang*. Guys all over the cafeteria turned their heads to watch, yet Ling Xiao remained unmoved, his head down as he continued eating at a steady, rhythmic pace.
Wanting to test his reaction, I suddenly launched a sharp lunge. Gao Dapang hadn't expected me to use full force, and his slippery chopstick was knocked clean out of his hand, flying through the air.
Lao Qi was already barking at me: "Qiao Mai!" But that didn't stop me. I leaned back, extending my arm to snatch the spinning chopstick out of mid-air.
To my surprise, someone beat me to it.
The chopstick was caught firmly between Ling Xiao’s index and middle fingers. The owner of those fingers looked past me, asking someone behind my shoulder, "Whose is this?"
Mine! It’s mine! Can’t you see my hand reached up this high?!
Gao Dapang hurried forward to claim his property. After handing it over, Ling Xiao stood up and walked away.
Indignant, I turned to Lao Qi. "Why didn't he give the chopstick to me?"
Lao Qi was busy picking cilantro out of his bowl. "You’ve got a chopstick in your left hand and another in your right. How many chopsticks do you need to eat with?"
Even so, he didn't have to ignore me completely, did he? I could have served as a middleman for the hand-off!
I watched Ling Xiao’s silhouette disappear into the scorching sunlight outside the doors, thoroughly dissatisfied. Honestly, I just wanted to know if this guy knew who I was. Why was it so difficult?
After that, I tried everything. I washed dishes next to him, filled my water bottle beside him, changed clothes in his vicinity, and ran laps near him. Gradually, I grew more and more dejected. I even began to suspect that Ling Xiao lived in a parallel universe called "A World Without Qiao Mai." My behavior got me plenty of sarcasm from Lao Qi:
"Qiao Mai, are you sick in the head? If you want to ask him something, just ask. Why are you searching for 'prosopagnosia' online? Oh, so now people aren't allowed to not know you? Is everyone in the world who doesn't recognize you suffering from face blindness? Who do you think you are?"
I rested my chin on my hand and sighed at the screen. "I'm Qiao Mai."
I’m Qiao Mai! A rising star in the world of fencing! I don't blame the rest of the world for not knowing me, but how can you, a fellow fencer, not know who I am? Even if you haven't seen my matches, haven't you read the reports? Besides, I have a Weibo account with tens of thousands of followers.
I clicked on Weibo and was gratified to see my follower count had grown again. Lao Qi, unable to take it anymore, tossed a towel over my head.
Actually, Lao Qi had a point. I really should just grab a bouquet of flowers, knock on Ling Xiao’s dorm door with total sincerity, and ask: "Hello, do you know who I am?" But I couldn't bring myself to do it. For all these years, it had never occurred to me that Ling Xiao might not recognize me. If that "Ice Block" opened the door and told me, "You have the wrong person," the damage to my ego would be well over ten thousand points.
Refusing to give up, I later arranged for Lao Qi and Gao Dapang to wash dishes, fill water, change clothes, and run near Ling Xiao. I discovered that he didn't seem to recognize them either. My heart finally found some balance; I figured Ling Xiao was either in the late stages of face blindness or he was truly a transcendent master—a swordsman descended from the Heavenly Mountains. Naturally, I leaned toward the latter, as it fit his "untouchable by mortal concerns" persona perfectly.
Fine, I’d let him off the hook for now. We were on the same team, after all. Sooner or later, I’d make it so that even when he closed his eyes, my face would be flashing before him like a viral meme.
***
Even though Ling Xiao didn't take me seriously, it didn't stop the rest of the team from constantly lumping us together. Every few days, I’d hear people betting on which of us was stronger. I was quite curious myself, so I’d often lean over the dorm balcony, hide in a bathroom stall, or crouch behind a locker in the changing room to listen with great interest as the guys analyzed our techniques and tactics. In their heated debates, Ling Xiao and I fought dozens of rounds, with the odds of winning generally split fifty-fifty. I was fairly satisfied with that.
In the blink of an eye, the countdown to the Olympics began. Well, "countdown" was a bit of a stretch since it was still about a year away, but early reports were already surfacing. Naturally, they mentioned the National Men’s Fencing Team’s preparations. As newcomers selected for the national team for the first time, Ling Xiao’s name and mine were prominently displayed.
Then, for some reason, the topic "National Men’s Fencing Team" started trending on Weibo. In reality, it mostly trended because of Ling Xiao’s face. The top replies were all explosive comments like, *"Holy crap, this visual is god-tier!"* and *"Using a face like that for fencing is a serious waste of resources,"* blah blah blah... Since Ling Xiao didn't have a Weibo account, the hype didn't affect him in the slightest. I, on the other hand, gained a bunch of random followers for no reason, which left me feeling quite unsettled. What unsettled me even more was that many people were directly or indirectly mentioning Ling Xiao under my posts. One or two comments would have been fine—I could just blatantly ignore them—but ignoring them when everyone was asking started to look weird! My Weibo was full of photos with Lao Qi, Gao Dapang, and other teammates, yet there wasn't a single one with Ling Xiao. It didn't fit my "selfie addict" and "shutterbug" persona at all; it wouldn't hold up to scrutiny! I noticed people were already searching keywords on my profile and digging through my albums looking for Ling Xiao. If I didn't post a photo with him soon, I could already imagine what they’d start saying.
Lao Qi mocked me while shaving. "Gays just overthink everything."
I couldn't help it. I wanted to be a straight man with a mind as simple as a straight line, but alas, I was bent.
"You're not just bent," Lao Qi said. "You're a freaking labyrinth!"
Well, I suppose that was just another way of saying I had a delicate, complex soul.
I didn't intend to get a solo photo with Ling Xiao—that was obviously a pipe dream. I just wanted to drag him into a group shot with Lao Qi and Gao Dapang. At the very least, it would prove our team dynamic was harmonious. Even if Ling Xiao and I were rivals, we were friends first. (Even I didn't believe that...)
Ling Xiao was a loner by habit, so I had to be the one to extend the olive branch.
No sooner said than done. I mustered up my courage and made my first attempt.
Every day after the routine afternoon training, two people stayed behind to clean the training hall. Today, it was Ling Xiao and Zhang Ting’s turn. I had it all planned out: I’d find an excuse to swap shifts with Zhang Ting. In the process of sweating together and sweeping away the dust, I’d spark a flame of friendship with Ling Xiao, and then seize the chance to snap a photo!
After leaving the locker room, I caught Zhang Ting. I told him I might have something to do next Wednesday and wouldn't be able to clean, so I asked if we could swap. I’d cover for him today, and he’d cover for me next week.
I didn't interact with Zhang Ting much, but my general impression was that he was soft-spoken and easy to talk to. I felt my chances were good—unless he also had plans next Wednesday, but what were the odds of that?
Zhang Ting didn't answer immediately. He seemed to be considering it. I nudged him: "It’s fine. I might not even be busy next Wednesday; I’m just worried I might be. If I’m free, I’ll still do my own shift, and you’ll just get a free day off today. How about it?"
Zhang Ting knit his faint brows, still hesitating. Honestly, who wouldn't agree to a deal like this? I slapped his shoulder and added a final incentive: "Do me this favor, and I’ll treat you to dinner sometime!"
Free dinner! If he didn't agree to this, I’d start suspecting he had a secret crush on Ling Xiao!
"It’s not that I can’t..." Zhang Ting said with a troubled look. "It’s just..."
Before he could finish, he stopped and looked up behind me. I turned around and saw Ling Xiao, already changed, walking out of the locker room. He was wearing a black athletic jacket with the sleeves pushed up halfway, looking ready to start cleaning.
Seeing Zhang Ting and me at a standstill in the hallway, Ling Xiao actually spared us a rare glance. "What’s going on?"
He had a naturally cold voice, and for some reason, his tone sounded slightly accusatory to me. I realized I had unintentionally "kabedon-ed" Zhang Ting against the wall. I quickly pulled back my arm—which seemed to have a mind of its own—and tucked it properly at my side.
In that brief moment, Ling Xiao stood there like a young drill instructor—upright as a pine, handsome as a poplar. However, his slightly narrowed eyes held icy blades that sliced right through me, as if he were about to say: *"Private, you wanted my attention? Congratulations, you’ve got it."*
Zhang Ting said, "It’s nothing. Qiao Mai said he’s busy next Wednesday and asked if I wanted to swap cleaning shifts with him."
I was just about to nod when I saw Ling Xiao’s gaze sweep over me. "Fine," he said. His voice, like the sound of ice cubes clinking in a glass, carried a cold, blunt finality. "You swap with me."
I was struck dumb. What the hell?!
"What?" Ling Xiao squinted at me, his expression indifferent. "You don't want to swap with me?"
I felt powerless. I could only hang my head and dejectedly mutter, "I’ll swap."
Ling Xiao nodded. He took two steps forward, then looked back at me. "Look a bit happier. Otherwise, it looks like I’m bullying you."
I could only manage a dry, forced smile as I watched his unsmiling back retreat into the distance.
...He’s *forcing* me to look happy? What, do I need to start dancing for you to be satisfied?
***
Chinese | English | Notes/Explanation
--- | --- | ---
乔麦 | Qiao Mai | Protagonist's name.
凌霄 | Ling Xiao | Love interest's name.
高大胖 | Gao Dapang | Teammate/roommate. Literally "Tall Big Fat."
老七 | Lao Qi | Teammate/roommate. Literally "Old Seven."
章庭 | Zhang Ting | Teammate.
脸盲症 | Prosopagnosia / Face blindness | A cognitive disorder where the ability to recognize familiar faces is impaired.
壁咚 | Kabedon | The act of leaning one's hand against a wall to trap someone, often seen in romance media.
西洋剑 | Fencing | Refers to the sport of Western fencing (foil, epee, sabre).
紫山 | Zishan | Purple Mountain; the location of the national training center.
