The final roster was finally being released—the list that would decide who had merely been passing through the national team and who would stand on the Olympic stage.
Coach Hu stood before us, the list gripped in his hand. Every face in the room wore a rare, solemn expression. However, Coach Hu didn’t look down at the paper.
"Before I announce the final names, I have one announcement to make."
Old Seven and Big Fat were both incredibly tense. I was nervous, too; I wondered if the nights we’d spent climbing over the compound walls were finally coming back to haunt us.
"Ling Xiao," Coach Hu said, walking over to stand directly in front of him. "As of today, you are no longer a member of the national team."
The words hit like a thunderclap. I was horrified, the rest of the team broke into an uproar, and even Ling Xiao froze.
"Why?!" I demanded.
"Wait, Coach, there must be some mistake!"
Coach Hu ignored me, his eyes fixed solely on Ling Xiao. "Do you have anything to say?"
Ling Xiao stepped forward and gave Coach Hu a deep, formal bow. Without a single word of protest, he turned to leave.
"Ling Xiao," Coach Hu called after him. "I’m sorry."
Ling Xiao paused at the main doors. "I am the one who should be sorry. I’m sorry for letting you down." He turned back toward everyone in the training hall and bowed once more. "Thank you for your guidance."
***
Coach Hu looked at me coldly. "What, did you think there was such a thing as a wall that doesn't leak?"
"This isn't fair! Expelling a teammate is a massive deal; you have to be transparent about it. You said there’s evidence—where is it?!"
"Is that any way to speak to your coach? You want evidence? Here!"
I caught the phone Coach Hu tossed at me. An audio file was open on the screen. Confused, I pressed play. It began with a man’s voice I didn't recognize.
*“...Ling Xiao? Why are you here again? You really don't need to keep visiting. The injury to my eye healed ages ago. The ligament damage is an old injury; it has nothing to do with you. I’ll be out of the hospital in a couple of days.”*
*“Has your manager come to see you?”*
It was Ling Xiao’s voice. My heart instantly sank. His voice moved from near to far, likely as he walked into the hospital room. I heard the sound of him placing something on a nightstand.
*“I can’t compete anymore,”* the speaker said—it was undoubtedly Xiao Guan. *“He probably doesn't have time for me. I get it; everyone’s just trying to make a living. Honestly, I never expected the only person to visit me in the hospital would be my opponent.”*
*“I know you’re all alone here in Zishan City.”*
Xiao Guan sounded surprised. *“How did you know?”*
*“Intuition.”*
*“Haha, your intuition is sharp. I used to teach fencing at a club over in Guanghe. Then my family fell into debt with loan sharks, and my current manager brought me here to fight matches. Being alone is tough... but I don't get it. You’re already on the national team. Why would you fight in underground matches? Is it for the money? Surely it’s not that.”*
*“My brother used to fight here,”* Ling Xiao said, his tone remarkably casual. *“I wanted to know what the underground circuit was like. I wanted to know what he was feeling when he fought.”*
*“Why didn't you just ask him?”*
*“...Even if I asked, all I would hear are lies.”*
Xiao Guan laughed softly. *“I think you’re a hard person to figure out. But it’s the underground circuit—it’s obvious no one enjoys being there. Your brother must have hit a dead end in life to resort to those matches.”*
*“Yes. I originally wanted to know how desperate he felt,”* Ling Xiao said. *“But it seems I was wrong.”*
*“I don't know your brother’s situation, but for me, as brutal as the underground matches are, they are the hope within the despair. Your brother... did he make it through all his matches?”*
*“Yes.”*
*“Then that’s wonderful,”* Xiao Guan said with a smile. *“It means he was never truly in despair.”*
"Who recorded this?!" I shouted.
***
That was when I saw Zhang Ting, who had been cornered at the main entrance.
In an instant, it all clicked. Back when Zhang Ting had gone to the hospital to care for his sister, I was the one who helped him get leave. His sister and Xiao Guan had been staying in the same hospital!
Zhang Ting averted his eyes, refusing to look at me. I could already guess half the reason why he had done it.
Finally, Zhang Ting looked me in the eye. "So those are your true feelings, then? Back then, you told me I had a chance, but in your heart, you actually think I—and everyone else—are destined to be eliminated! You 'geniuses' are all hypocrites. We’re just beneath you, not worthy of being in your circle, right?"
"Zhang Ting," I interrupted. "You value this opportunity more than he does, don't you? Then why did you take three days off to look after your sister?"
"It wouldn't have mattered if I stayed to train; I wouldn't have made the final list anyway. But Ling Xiao is different. What reason did he have—"
"Did you know his brother passed away?"
Zhang Ting froze.
"Your sister doesn't have a terminal illness, and she doesn't have depression. She didn't actually *need* you there, but you wanted to be with her anyway. Why? Did I think you were unworthy of the national team because of that? No. When I spoke up for you then, it wasn't because I thought you wouldn't make the cut; it was because I felt your sister must be important to you. Even though fencing matters so much to you, you still wanted to be by her side because you were afraid of her being lonely..."
Zhang Ting bit his lip, silent.
"Actually, you aren't wrong. He broke the team rules, and there’s nothing to be said about his expulsion. To be honest, even I didn't know why he went to fight in those dangerous underground matches..."
I used to never understand him. But now, I finally did. I understood the tenderness he showed when guiding my parents; I understood the look in his eyes when he heard me talk about the fun times I had with them; and I understood why, when the rest of us were receiving encouragement and care from our families, he chose to stand on the underground stage where his brother once fought.
"But even so, the man I saw was out there training his physical conditioning before dawn every day. He was the one doing extra drills alone after we had all gone to rest... Not for a single moment during those underground matches did he ever think of giving up on his dream. If he put in double the effort and carried double the burden, why should anyone say he didn't know how to cherish what he had?"
Zhang Ting slumped to the ground. I knew that to do what he did, he must have struggled and suffered as well. Looking at him, I thought of the "Concubine," of Li Rui and He Ming. Aren't we all like this? Constantly correcting our course on the path of life and dreams, trying to set things right, living our lives in a state of both confusion and earnestness.
They say if you take things too seriously, you’ve already lost. Perhaps that’s because once you become too earnest, too persistent, you can no longer make simple "either-or" choices. The truly strong are supposed to know how to constantly discard and sacrifice so they can travel light and reach the summit. And you... you will be reduced to a weakling—indecisive, mired in the depths. Until one day, you make up your mind: even if you cannot become that kind of "strong" person, you refuse to give up a single thing that is important to you. For that, you are willing to put in twice the effort and shoulder twice the burden.
At that moment, you become a different kind of strong.
Just like your brother. Just like the person you are becoming.
***
After nightfall, I found Ling Xiao in the training hall. A single beam of light fell across the vast, quiet space. He was looking up at the banner hanging overhead.
*A raised blade stirs the wind and thunder; its spirit shakes the world.*
I stood at the door, watching him in silence. Now, this youth—who stirred the wind and thunder the moment he raised his sword—was leaving.
"When you don't speak and just look at me, I know," Ling Xiao said suddenly.
I was startled, feeling the slight embarrassment of a voyeur caught in the act.
Ling Xiao turned around.
"Qiao Mai, fence with me one more time. I owe you this."
I never imagined that our first duel with both of us giving our all would happen under these circumstances.
We changed into our whites and stood on the practice piste. The white light enveloped us; the hall was serene and silent.
"There’s no electronic scoring system. Is that okay?" Ling Xiao asked.
"You are my electronic scoring system," I joked. The secret of his zero-second reflex arc was something only I knew.
We stood at opposite ends of the piste, a wordless understanding already passing between us. Facing each other, we pulled down our black mesh masks.
In that moment, it was like looking into a mirror. His sword hand, my sword hand. The way he lowered his mask, the way I lowered mine. How did that saying go?
We were each other’s mirrors.
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Point to Point: The Fencer’s Heart | Chapter 52 | Reflections in the Mirror | Novela.app | Novela.app
