The three months of closed-door training were the definition of sadistic. Sometimes, after a session ended, Old Hu would stroll over with the air of a benevolent father to check on us. "Is the intensity a bit much?" he’d ask.
Gao Da Pang would puff out his chest heroically. "It’s nothing, Coach! For the Olympics, for the country, we can take it!"
Old Hu would nod, pat him on the shoulder, and leave. Then, the very next day, the training intensity would freaking double. Gao Da Pang would end up getting pummeled by Old Qi and me, left groaning on his bed in agony.
Old Qi, fuming with his hands on his hips, ranted in the dorm, "I’m done! I’m exposing a shameful truth right now!"
Gao Da Pang and I were all ears.
"Mai-zi," Old Qi said, "do you know who 'The World’s Sharpest Prick' is?"
The memory of that insufferably obnoxious username flashed through my mind. I rolled up my sleeves. "Who?!"
***
And so, under such high-intensity training, I only had about two minutes before falling asleep each night to briefly miss my captain.
July arrived, and with it, the Olympics in all their fiery glory. The time had finally come to put our results to the test. Old Hu took the sabre team, along with our teammates from the foil and épée squads, and we thundered off to Paris.
I was finally an Olympic athlete. I couldn't wait to live-stream the whole experience on Weibo; I even wanted to take pictures of the Olympic Village toilets to show everyone. "The World’s Sharpest Prick" was still hopping around in my comments every day. By now, bickering with him had become a daily stress-reliever for Old Qi and me.
Because "The World’s Sharpest Prick" was actually Old Hu.
Ling Xiao had told Old Qi this secret before he left, saying we should only use this information if Old Hu pushed us past our breaking point.
Since the Captain had said so, we naturally had to follow orders. We reached our breaking point immediately. Seeing Old Hu sneakily playing on his phone, Old Qi and I pulled up Weibo. Sure enough, "The World’s Sharpest Prick" was looking for trouble again. I had posted a photo of a toilet, and he asked if I was preparing to eat shit, even predicting we’d be heading home right after the preliminaries.
I shared his comment directly:
—*@TheWorld’sSharpestPrick, you can look down on me, but you cannot look down on the national team. Looking down on the national team is looking down on @HuBingyao. It’s fine if I eat shit, but I will never allow anyone to make Coach Hu eat shit. In my heart, only Coach Hu is worthy of the title 'The World’s Sharpest Prick'!*
Old Hu stared at his phone, his forehead breaking into a sweat. After I shared it, Old Qi shared it. After Old Qi, Da Pang shared it. The whole team shared it. In the end, a sweating Old Hu was forced to repost the Weibo himself, adding nothing but a smiley face emoji.
I nearly died laughing.
Paris is the city of romance. Upon arrival, the very air seemed to carry the scent of love. Walking out of the Olympic Village, Old Qi suddenly nudged me. "Look!"
It was a same-sex couple sharing a light kiss under a tree. I recognized them as two divers from another country, here to compete in the men's synchronized platform.
I dragged Old Qi away and turned back.
That night, on the balcony of the Olympic Village, I howled at the sky! Seriously, just let this single dog die of envy already!
The opening ceremony was like a dream. That day, I donned the "Tomato and Egg" suit. When the announcer called out "CHINA," several hundred of us marched into the stadium with high spirits. Everyone was relaxed. Even though we were in Paris and the lighting wasn't bright, I still saw the Five-Star Red Flag waving in the stands.
There is so much chaos and war in the world, but today, this place felt like heaven. People of all colors—Asian, White, Black—were gathered together in a bustling crowd, all for the sake of pure athletic competition. Every athlete had their own story; the pain, confusion, and sweat that supported them in getting here finally gained meaning in this moment. And on the other side of the television, whether they were rich, poor, politicians, commoners, or even prisoners in jail, they would cheer for the moments these athletes fought for. Just thinking about it made the word "Olympic" feel extraordinarily grand.
I had participated in the World University Games, but this was my first time stepping into an Olympic stadium. It was the most solemn, the highest level, and the most beautiful. The field was swarming with people, camera flashes rippled through the stands, and the sky was brilliant with stars. I felt as if I were surrounded by stars, yet the brightest star that belonged to me wasn't here.
***
The sabre events began three days after the start of the Olympics. Old Qi, Da Pang, and I all fenced well in the preliminaries and successfully advanced. Two teammates each from the foil and épée groups also fought their way into the later stages. However, our country wasn't a traditional fencing powerhouse. As the competition progressed, the technical and tactical requirements became much higher. In the end, I was the only one to make it into the final four. In the semi-finals, I had to face the home-crowd favorite, the French star Bessev.
Bessev was incredibly strong, and his style was similar to mine. Most of the time, we were hitting "double lights" simultaneously. I fought for every single point with grueling effort, as if I had to hit a reflection in a mirror faster than the reflection could hit me.
Finally, we reached a 14-14 tie, entering the match point for both sides. I noticed my sword hand was shaking. I had promised Ling Xiao I would bring a gold medal to see him. If I lost here, I might not even get a medal at all.
Since it was the final point, neither Bessev nor I dared to make a reckless move. We spent a long time testing each other back and forth in the center of the piste. Eventually, he initiated the attack a step ahead of me. I retreated rapidly, judging his line of attack. The dancing tip of his blade was dizzying, but it was all just smoke and mirrors. The opening I wanted, the hidden strike, was... right this second!
When I parried his blade away, he had an instinctive pause. That was the time gap I needed! I extended my arm, a flick to the hand—the light went on! It felt as if I had completed the attack within a single grain of sand. I let out an excited roar and ripped off my mask, but the referee ruled the touch invalid.
The reason: both my feet had gone off the back line.
The arena erupted in disappointment and clamor. Below the podium, Old Hu covered his face in deep regret. If that touch had been mine, I would have won. If it wasn't, I wasn't sure I could beat him on the next one.
I looked down at my feet. They were undoubtedly past the line, but this time, I was more certain than anyone that I had completed the attack *before* my feet went out.
I requested a video review from the referee.
The crowd stirred again. Old Hu sat below, back hunched, hands tightly clasped, his full attention on the big screen.
The Hawk-Eye footage replayed on the screen. At the one-tenth of a second when I whipped out that strike, my left foot was still inside the line!
The whole stadium thundered. I threw my mask again in excitement. Even Old Qi and Gao Da Pang were hugging each other so hard they looked ready to plant a kiss on one another.
The referee awarded me the victory. I shook hands with my opponent and the referee. Before the semi-finals, I hadn't dared to think about it, fearing that the more I thought, the more it would backfire. Now, I couldn't stop myself from thinking—thinking about that gold medal, thinking about standing on the podium wearing it. Because I knew Ling Xiao would definitely be watching.
Next was the final battle.
***
My opponent in the final was Kornil from Russia, a student of my idol, Yakilev. Kornil was a year younger than me, twenty-one, and the most dazzling new star in the fencing world. While we were still competing domestically, Yakilev had already taken him through the baptism of many international tournaments. His progress was exceptionally rapid, and he was widely favored to win this time. It wasn't a bad thing that no one favored me; it meant I had less pressure.
Old Qi really disliked Kornil. He said that during the preliminaries, they were in the same breakroom. Gao Da Pang went to ask Kornil for an autograph, and Kornil pretended not to see him, stood up, and walked away.
I was furious hearing that. *Gao Da Pang, you claim to be my die-hard fan, yet you went to him for an autograph?! Isn't a hundred of mine enough for you?!*
"That guy is incredibly arrogant. He’s just asking for a beating. You have to take him down!" Old Qi encouraged me.
"Arrogant?" I finished brushing my teeth and admired my bright white teeth in the mirror. "Is he more arrogant than our Team Beauty?"
Old Qi and Da Pang said in unison, "He’s still got a long way to go for that~"
"Not just in arrogance, but in skill too," I said. Know yourself and know your enemy. I had watched all of Kornil's recent matches. Unless he was holding back in every single one, I didn't think he was a match for the current Ling Xiao.
"Ling Xiao did beat Kornil, but that’s ancient history. Ling Xiao can't even beat you right now," the ignorant Gao Da Pang said. I glared at him, and he immediately added, "I’m not badmouthing the Captain! I’m just reminding you not to underestimate the enemy!"
The day before the match, Old Qi and Da Pang suddenly dragged me to watch TV. It turned out Kornil was being interviewed by a French station. When asked how confident he was about the final against me, he rattled off a string of foreign gibberish. I didn't understand a word, but since the host mentioned my name, I could tell from Kornil's expression that it wasn't anything good.
Fortunately, netizens provided a translation quickly. Kornil’s original words were: "I originally thought I’d be meeting Bessev in the final. I didn't expect the Chinese guy to be so lucky. Next time, I’ll make sure he goes completely off the back line and give him no chance to be 'lucky' again."
Old Qi and Da Pang were nearly exploding with rage. I actually ended up comforting them. Perhaps because I’d been subjected to Ling Xiao’s poisonous tongue for so long, Kornil’s words couldn't hurt me anymore.
Unexpectedly, I was caught by reporters while leaving the Olympic Village. Although I didn't want to get into a war of words with Kornil, I couldn't just run or hide now that I’d been caught; it would make me look weak! When asked if I had anything to say about Kornil’s remarks, I found myself wishing Ling Xiao were here. The Captain’s poisonous tongue was world-class; he would have definitely driven Kornil crazy and made sure I didn't suffer a disadvantage in the final.
"Kornil is very strong," I said with a smile, using the English I’d been cramming for days. "Before the final, I asked Ling Xiao about him. After all, so many people have lost to Ling Xiao; there aren't many he actually remembers."
The internet went wild over my response, calling it a perfect counterattack.
Of course, some people weren't happy. On the forums, someone claimed I was "clinging" to Ling Xiao’s fame, saying we had no interaction normally and that I was just using his name to provoke Kornil. However, when I clicked into the thread, the comments were all bashing the original poster.
—*How do you know they don't have any interaction? What if he really did ask?*
—*I think Qiao Mai’s answer was great. Should he be polite to someone like Kornil? And Ling Xiao really did beat Kornil; Qiao Mai didn't lie. Being this indignant is just looking for a reason to hate on Qiao Mai.*
—*I’ve hated on Qiao Mai before, but I can tell friend from foe. In the face of a major enemy, I won't do anything to dampen our own spirits.*
—*The fencing field is generally very strong this year; gold medals have to be fought for. Qiao Mai has fought brilliantly all the way. If you won't cheer for him, at least don't hate on him here.*
—*Kornil was the one who started being a prick. Qiao Mai did well! But the most important thing is to take him down in the match!*
—*It’s such a shame Ling Xiao didn't go to Paris. If it were Ling Xiao, Kornil wouldn't dare say a word. Qiao Mai is under a lot of pressure; I hope everything goes well for him in the final!*
I laughed until tears came to my eyes. It turned out the fencing circle could actually unite against a common enemy.
The day of the final arrived. Before the match, only Kornil and I were in the breakroom. He looked at me and said in English, "Even if Ling Xiao came to Paris, he wouldn't be my match. Let alone you."
I didn't bother wasting my breath. "Remember what you just said."
Match time. I picked up my sword and walked out of the room.
In the many days and nights after Ling Xiao left, I would constantly recall the last match I had with him. I was grateful that there was a genius in this world who worked 99% hard, grateful that fate allowed me to meet him, and grateful that he could be my opponent, willing to give his all to fight me. Having such a powerful opponent meant that even when facing Kornil or Bessev, no matter how difficult the situation, my heart was fearless.
Kornil was undoubtedly stronger than Bessev. He said he would force me off the back line, and he did exactly that, pressing me toward the edge every chance he got. His explosiveness was incredible, and his starting speed was much faster than mine. Almost all of my points were scored on parry-ripostes while retreating. By the end of the second period, the score was 13-14. He reached match point before me.
I was too nervous, and the pace of the match was lightning-fast, so I didn't notice his little trick until I realized the piste behind him was suddenly very long. Ling Xiao’s words from that night suddenly rang in my ears:
"Kornil is cunning. If the score is tight, he won't recklessly clash with you. Instead, he’ll intentionally show a slight opening, pretending his attack isn't going well, luring you into waiting for an opportunity to counter-attack while retreating. In the end, he’ll make you step off the back line without even drawing blood."
At this distance, I should have been off the line long ago. Yet the referee hadn't called it, which meant my left foot was still on the line—perhaps by only a millimeter, so small I couldn't even see it while in my lunge.
Kornil flicked his wrist as if he’d been prepared all along, his blade suddenly whipping toward me!
A wolf in front, a tiger behind...
But I couldn't lose. Ling Xiao was definitely watching. If I lost, he’d have even more of an excuse to stay away!
Everything felt like a reenactment of that night. I leaned back, Kornil’s blade tip grazing my forehead. However, I didn't actually fall. My lunge was stretched to the absolute limit, my trailing right leg almost kneeling against the floor. In the past, I could never have stayed stable at this angle, but today was different.
Now it was Kornil who couldn't stabilize his forward-leaning body. I hauled myself up and whipped my blade hard against Kornil’s waist!
Old Hu stood up, fists clenched, shouting "Good!" for me.
The referee ruled my attack valid. Kornil protested, believing I didn't have priority and shouldn't have scored. The referee finished watching the video, walked back, and raised his hand toward me, upholding the original ruling.
My heart was bolstered. Kornil and I stood behind the lines once more. The score was tied; I had dragged him back to the same starting line.
"En garde."
"Prêts?"
I told myself: *Qiao Mai, this last touch, fight it well. Leave no regrets!*
"Allez!"
A slogan from the high banners at the base drifted through my mind—*Raise the sword like thunder, let the blade's aura shake the world!*
On this final touch, I was finally faster than Kornil!
Once I launched that step, I didn't want to stop. The piste was only so long, and at the end of these fifteen meters was the gold medal I wanted. I was going to keep slashing through. Those people standing in my way—Bessev, Old Hu, Yakilev, Kornil...
Who! Who!! No one can stop me!!
The light didn't go on until the very end. I didn't even want to stop, but then I heard the referee’s decision.
He raised his right hand. It was the direction I was standing in.
And Kornil stood coldly in the darkness, both his feet far beyond the back line.
I ripped off my mask and looked at Old Hu in disbelief. Old Qi and Gao Da Pang were waving frantically, telling me to look at the score.
The score was 15-14. The 15 was under my name.
I really... won a gold medal for the national team!
I let out a roar and jumped off the piste. Old Hu hugged me, and then my back was hit by Old Qi, Da Pang, and the rest of the team in succession. The joy of victory and the weight of the fencing team nearly crushed the breath out of me.
"Qiao Mai, you really did it!" Old Qi howled in my ear.
"I knew you’d win! I even bought a sports lottery ticket! I bet on you winning, Mai-zi!" Gao Da Pang looked like he wanted to pull out the ticket right then to prove it to me.
My teammates surrounded me. "Don't you dare cry during the medal ceremony!"
I, Qiao Mai, in my first Olympics, had won a gold medal for my motherland!
Ling Xiao, did you see?!
Later, I watched the replay of the domestic broadcast. During the final touch, even the commentator was ecstatic: "Qiao Mai’s run has been incredible! It reminds me of Ling Xiao’s stunning debut at the World Junior Championships!"
"I’m thinking of Ling Xiao too. That final charge was truly a force of nature!"
At the medal ceremony, I tucked Ling Xiao’s eye mask into my shirt. My only regret was that I was indeed flanked by two foreigners. Although I was emotional, I wasn't going to shed a tear in front of that guy Kornil. The announcement for the national anthem came, and every Chinese person in the stadium stood up. I pressed the black eye mask against my chest, right next to the gold medal. I thought I wouldn't cry; my heart was full of nothing but joy. But when the anthem began to play, the tears suddenly fell.
I thought of the boy I had caught a glimpse of on TV when I was fifteen. If I hadn't worked so hard to chase after him, I wouldn't be standing here.
***
