Point to Point: The Fencer’s Heart | Chapter 6 | The Iceberg’s Hidden Warmth | Novela.app

Chapter 6 - The Iceberg’s Hidden Warmth Today, the young master Ling Xiao finally spared the fish. Without the tedious task of deboning, his pace was noticeably swifter, and he finished his meal well before the rest of us. It was a minor marvel to witness; despite the efficiency of his "search and destroy" mission against his lunch, he maintained an air of effortless refinement. There was no clattering of utensils, no unseemly haste—just a quiet, disciplined grace. Recalling Gao Dabang’s previous grumbling about Ling Xiao’s habits, I craned my neck to peer at his departing tray. Sure enough, just as Dabang had claimed, a significant portion of rice and side dishes remained untouched. In my eyes, this future Olympic silver medalist was a paragon of perfection, but I had finally unearthed a flaw: wastefulness. My mind, fueled by a mix of petty triumph and curiosity, began to spiral. If he was this careless with food, he surely wasted other things. He probably left the lights on when he went out, or tossed away tubes of toothpaste that were still half-full. He probably left the water running while lathering up in the shower... The thought hit a sudden, jarring snag. My imagination, usually a reliable ally, betrayed me. I could almost hear the rhythmic hiss of the showerhead, a sound that refused to be silenced. Through a hazy veil of steam, I envisioned Ling Xiao standing beneath the spray, his head tilted back, water cascading over the sharp lines of his throat and shoulders. A sudden heat flared across my cheeks. I ducked my head, shoveling a large mouthful of rice into my mouth to drown out the mental imagery. *Get a grip, Qiao Mai,* I scolded myself. *You’re losing your mind.* Hungry for more than just gossip, I went back for a second helping. While at the counter, I struck up a casual conversation with Sister Yuan. She looked at my heaped plate and gave me a sisterly nudge of disapproval. "You really shouldn't overeat like this, Qiao Mai. Smaller portions are much healthier." "Like Ling Xiao?" I countered instinctively, a hint of defensiveness in my voice. "You really ought to learn a thing or two from him," Sister Yuan replied, her tone surprisingly earnest. *Learn what? How to waste food?* I was about to protest when Sister Yuan’s attention shifted. She turned toward the canteen entrance with a warm smile. "Teacher Zhao! It’s a bit of a scorcher today, isn't it?" The newcomer was a woman in her sixties, her hair a shock of silver but her eyes bright and full of life. She was a picture of sturdy resilience, carrying a bundle of flattened cardboard in one hand and a heavy bag of plastic bottles in the other. Her steps were steady, showing no signs of the frailty one might expect. She set her haul down by the door, exchanged a few pleasantries with Sister Yuan, and then walked directly toward... Ling Xiao’s usual seat? I watched, utterly bewildered, as the elderly woman carefully transferred Ling Xiao’s leftovers into a clean food bag she had brought with her. She did a quick sweep of the other tables, but found little else. Before leaving, she turned back to Sister Yuan. "Tell that boy he needs to eat more. He’s far too thin." Sister Yuan sighed, leaning against the counter. "We can hardly get a word out of him, Teacher Zhao." Once the woman had departed, I couldn't contain my curiosity. "Who was that? And why is she so concerned about Ling Xiao’s appetite?" "That’s Teacher Zhao," Sister Yuan explained, her expression softening. "She was a cook here in the canteen many years ago. Since she retired, she’s lived nearby. She comes by to collect scraps to feed the stray cats around the base." Zishan Base was known for its lush environment, and consequently, its thriving population of strays. I’d seen them often enough—lazy, half-drunk felines rolling around in patches of catnip. I’d always assumed they survived on their wits and the occasional mouse. I hadn't realized they had a benefactor. "So... those leftovers were for the cats?" I asked the question even though the answer was obvious, my mind struggling to reconcile this new information with my image of the cold, aloof Ling Xiao. Sister Yuan looked at me as if I were slightly dim-witted and nodded. "He doesn't leave much, but every bit helps. The national team doesn't encourage waste, and most of the boys are like you—they lick their plates clean. The canteen doesn't have real leftovers until the end of the day, but Granny Zhao’s eyes aren't what they used to be; she can't be out wandering in the dark. So, don't go blabbing about Ling Xiao’s 'wastefulness.' If the team leader finds out, he’ll get a lecture for sure." Sister Yuan’s warning was uncharacteristically stern. I thought of Ling Xiao, head bowed, meticulously picking through fish bones just to ensure the rice he left behind was safe for a cat to eat. It felt as though a blade had bypassed my guard and pierced me straight through the heart. *** This revelation felt like a turning point. It gave me a bridge to cross the distance between us, a secret shared only by the two of us—even if he didn't know I knew. That night, lying in bed, the image of Ling Xiao carefully preparing the "scraps" wouldn't leave me. When a man as cold and impenetrable as an iceberg reveals even a flicker of hidden warmth, it’s devastating. I had thought I’d found his weakness, a way to knock him off his pedestal, but this fluttering in my chest felt like I was the one being held captive. Just the thought of his name made my heart feel as light as a cloud of spun sugar. Wednesday arrived, and I spent the entire day in a state of high-strung anticipation. After the afternoon training session, I retreated to the locker room, changing slowly while keeping a hawk-like watch on the door. My teammates filed in, laughing and boasting about their hits, but Ling Xiao was nowhere to be seen. Old Seven mentioned that Coach Hu had pulled him aside for a talk. My mind immediately began to invent disasters. *What if he stands me up?* I worried. *Then again, if I were a stray cat or a retired cook, he’d probably be on time...* I was still lingering by my locker when he finally arrived, trailing behind Zhang Ting and the others. I searched his face for any sign that he remembered our agreement from last week, but he didn't even glance in my direction. I decided I would have to be the one to break the ice. Ling Xiao’s locker was diagonally opposite mine. Through the small mirror mounted on the inside of my locker door, I watched him approach. He reached out, his fingers long and steady as he pulled the door open. I took a deep breath, stepped toward him, and cleared my throat. I was just about to speak when— "I know. I’m covering your shift today. I haven't forgotten." His voice, cool and resonant, cut through the locker room chatter like a sudden frost. It sent a shiver down my spine. He didn't even turn around. He continued undressing with practiced efficiency. For a fleeting second, his bare back was exposed before he pulled on a black T-shirt. I stood there, rooted to the spot, watching the soft fabric settle over his shoulders. I noted the way his scapulae—beautifully defined and powerful—moved beneath the cloth. The silence between us grew heavy with my own awkwardness. Once dressed, Ling Xiao tilted his head slightly toward me. "Is there anything else?" *Yes! I know why you leave your food! I know you like cats! I know you're not actually a robot!* I opened my mouth, hesitated, and then managed a weak, "No." I had lived twenty-odd years only to discover that, in the face of Ling Xiao, I was a complete coward. Ling Xiao closed his locker, the "click" of the lock sounding final in the quiet room. He turned around, and for a moment, he actually looked surprised. He clearly hadn't expected me to still be standing there, hovering in his personal space. He probably thought that after my "no," I would have slunk away. Seeing his face up close, I finally understood why the "Visual Stans" on Weibo were so obsessed with him. One look wasn't enough; it was never enough. His bangs were damp with sweat, framing those icy, piercing eyes. Being the sole focus of that gaze gave me a rush of adrenaline, like a live wire sparking. Thinking fast, I blurted out, "Just... don't slack off, okay? Make sure you sweep it clean, or Coach Hu will come after *me*." For once, I had the satisfaction of seeing Ling Xiao rendered speechless. Buoyed by that small victory, I tossed my towel over my shoulder, gave him a cheeky grin, and headed for the showers.