Over the next few days, I went to great lengths—scrubbing Lao Qi’s socks and running errands to fetch his meals—before "Brother Qi" finally found it in his heart to forgive my slip of the tongue.
Once I’d put out the fire on that front, I had to deal with the blaze in my own backyard. Because I hadn't yet delivered the promised photo of the Iceberg Prince, my Weibo notifications exploded with over a thousand tags the moment I logged on today. I clicked in to find a gossip account called "Sports World Secrets" had posted a long, nine-image grid. It was a compilation of various "insider scoops" from the sports world: secret rivalries between athletes, shady dealings by sports officials... I skimmed through it and, boy, it was a mess. The swimming team, figure skating team, and badminton team were all on the list. And then, there was the fencing team! What the hell? The sports world isn't the entertainment industry; if you have this much free time, why not go chase some pop star at a hotel instead?
I knew I shouldn't look, but I couldn't help clicking on the fencing team’s "leak" because the cover photo was Ling Xiao. It was a direct hit to my weakness! There are only a handful of photos of Ling Xiao circulating online, mostly candid shots taken by reporters before or after matches. No posing, no styling—he was so bare-faced you could see his sweat-clumped eyelashes and his lips were red and dry, yet he still managed to slay a thousand maiden hearts. This calculating blogger clearly knew how to use a handsome face to draw eyes. I reflexively saved the photo, thinking to myself that our fencing team was so harmonious there was no way they could make up any real dirt.
To my surprise, there was plenty of "material." There was the "inside story" behind the former team leader’s resignation, and a story about a team member forced to leave the national team due to a "same-sex scandal"... The final "bombshell," naturally, featured my name. Even though it was just a short blurb, it was enough to make me fume with rage:
—*According to an insider, the two young stars of the fencing team, Ling Xiao and Qiao Mai, are actually bitter rivals who avoid each other in private. One is the acknowledged "Team Heartthrob," while the other is the "Team Mascot." The latter, due to his love for selfies, has amassed eighty thousand followers on Weibo. Although his photography skills leave much to be desired, he provides fans with a glimpse into the daily life of the national team. However, observant fans have noticed that while Qiao Mai has photos with almost every member of the team, he doesn't have a single one with Ling Xiao. On Weibo, Qiao Mai frequently interacts with other teammates, but when this author searched "Ling Xiao" on Qiao Mai’s profile, the result was 0!*
I’ll accept Ling Xiao being the Team Heartthrob, but when did I become the "Team Mascot"? And since when did all my followers come from my selfies? Does my photography skill really need your validation? There are over thirty people on the fencing team, and I’ve only taken photos with the six or seven I’m actually close with—how does that translate to "everyone except Ling Xiao"? Aside from Lao Qi and Gao Dapang, I don't actually tag other teammates that often. Ling Xiao isn't the only exception! And isn't the most crucial point that he doesn't even have a Weibo account?! Who the hell am I supposed to interact with?!
The most disgusting part of this long post was the malicious comparison of our competition results over the last few years. It concluded that Ling Xiao was a cut above me, arguing that although he participated in fewer major competitions, he held a World Junior Championship title. Meanwhile, the championships I had won—aside from one World University Games title—were all domestic. And apparently, I "conveniently avoided" Ling Xiao every time, making my wins "meaningless"...
If we're being logical, why not say he was the one avoiding me?!
When Lao Qi and Gao Dapang returned from their walk, I was sprawled on my bed like a corpse, trying to settle the murky air clogging my chest.
Lao Qi had always been dismissive of my Weibo obsession. "Why do you look at stuff that just upsets you? Toss the phone away, and the world is your oyster~"
Gao Dapang tried to comfort me. "What’s so great about the World Juniors? The World University Games has way more prestige, okay? Besides fencing, there’s swimming, tennis, badminton—so many events. It’s much better to watch than the Juniors. What are the ratings for the Junior Fencing Championships anyway? Compare that to the University Games!"
*Gao Dapang, are you doing this on purpose?* You make it sound like I personally contributed to the swimming, tennis, and badminton victories. I sat up and squinted at him, more convinced than ever that this guy was an anti-fan in disguise.
On the way to the cafeteria, Lao Qi scanned the gossip post and suddenly asked with interest, "Hey, even if he’s talking nonsense, I am curious about one thing. If you and Ling Xiao faced off in a match, what do you think your chances of winning are?"
I told him, "What do you think? Your boy hasn't lost yet."
I shrugged as we rounded a corner, only to see Ling Xiao’s back as he headed downstairs. I hurriedly changed my tune: "But Ling Xiao is very strong. I don't have an absolute guarantee. Still, I’m really looking forward to a clash of titans, haha!"
Lao Qi and Gao Dapang clearly hadn't seen Ling Xiao. They both stared at me with "Are you sick?" expressions. I couldn't blame them for the misunderstanding; the last time I’d spoken with such formal, ringing clarity was probably when I joined the Young Pioneers as a kid. I even made sure to emphasize "clash of titans" loudly, then peeked down the stairwell. Great. Ling Xiao was wearing a pair of white earbuds. He hadn't heard a word.
*Do you wear those twenty-four hours a day? Aren't you afraid of going deaf?*
***
I wasn't just saying it for show—I truly, devoutly looked forward to facing Ling Xiao. On one hand, I wanted to see exactly how strong he was; on the other, I hoped it would be an opportunity to become friends and finally get that photo that was currently ruining my life. Since "getting close" wasn't working, I figured I’d try the "rivals turned friends" trope.
Unfortunately, the team strictly forbade "private duels," so there was no chance to issue a challenge. Speaking of private duels, for some reason, the team was incredibly strict about it. Not only were we forbidden from sparring privately within the team, but we were also barred from entering any outside competitions. Any match, even an exhibition, had to be reported and approved. I remember when Old Hu first told us about this bizarre rule, I’d offhandedly said, "Is that really necessary?" Next thing I knew, I was kicked off to scrub the toilets!
I’d even been punished with frog leaps by Old Hu for private sparring with Lao Qi. It wasn't even a serious match, just a few casual exchanges. While we were doing the frog leaps, a group of guys stood there laughing their heads off. I suddenly spotted Ling Xiao passing by and quickly ducked my head. Lao Qi asked, "What are you doing? Trying to stuff your head between your legs?" I told him I didn't want Ling Xiao to recognize me doing frog leaps. Lao Qi scoffed, "Who else would it be? Given our relationship, who else would I be doing frog leaps with?"
But I just didn't have the courage to look up. By the time we finished the frog leaps that day, my face was dark from all the dust I’d inhaled. Back at the dorm, Lao Qi continued to mock me: "What was the point of that? You even ruined a towel."
I’d wiped my face with the towel, and it looked like I’d been scrubbing coal; it was fit for the rag pile. I didn't know what the point was either—why I cared so much about someone who didn't care about me at all.
I originally thought Ling Xiao and I would only meet in the future at the Olympics or the World Championships. To my surprise, after a month of closed-door training, Old Hu suddenly announced that we would hold internal ranking matches every two weeks. Teammates would be paired up for PKs, and the matches would follow official tournament regulations, supposedly to "build competitive experience."
When I learned I was scheduled to fence Ling Xiao, I felt a mix of exhilaration and nerves. I had to maintain a facade of calm, even as I hid in a bathroom stall listening to the others betting on who would win. Currently, my win rate against Ling Xiao was pegged at 40/60. I was considered the underdog? I felt a surge of irritation. Sitting on the toilet, I called Lao Qi and asked if he’d bet on me or Ling Xiao.
Lao Qi played dumb on the other end. "What are you talking about? What betting?"
I knew instantly the brat had betrayed me. "Stop acting. I know you bet on me losing!"
Gao Dapang shouted from behind Lao Qi, "Wheat, I bet on you winning! But it’s okay if you lose, it’s only a hundred yuan! I, Gao Dapang, can afford to lose for a brother!"
I propped my forehead in my hand, depressed. *Gao Dapang, how low is your EQ? This kind of 'brotherly love' doesn't make me happy, okay?*
Complaining under my breath, I walked out of the stall and froze. Ling Xiao was standing right there at the sinks, his back to me as he turned off the faucet!
He usually wore black or white. Today, it was a form-fitting black shirt. Even standing still, he had that unique, proud, and upright posture that no one else could imitate. Even without seeing his face in the mirror, I knew it couldn't be anyone else. The "Team Heartthrob" lowered his head, flicked the water droplets off his hands, and pulled a paper towel to dry them. Poor me, I was pressed against the stall door, sweating bullets. *Is this guy part cat? How does he make zero noise?*
Should I explain? What was I just complaining about? Did I say anything offensive...?
Being in the restroom like this was too awkward. Ling Xiao was like a robot; this atmosphere could only hurt a human like me, not him. I had to say something.
"Ling Xiao, we’re in the same group for the match today..." I tried to sound casual. Halfway through the sentence, Ling Xiao glanced sideways at me. I felt like I’d been hit by static electricity. I hurriedly stepped forward, my right hand already moving on its own to reach out to him. "Looking forward to it!"
The Team Heartthrob lowered his eyes to glance at my hand. "You haven't washed your hands yet."
"..."
Ling Xiao’s voice had a natural bass resonance. When he said something awkward, the awkwardness level shot straight into the stratosphere. I let out an "Oh" and hurriedly shoved my perfectly clean hands under the faucet. The sensor was a jerk; it refused to release any water! I was sweating with embarrassment when Ling Xiao’s hand reached over. His fingers twisted the knob on the side, and a steady stream of water flowed into my palms.
"It’s not a sensor," he said. This time, his tone was actually quite gentle (for an iceberg), as if he were speaking to a slow-witted child.
*I know that!* The faucets in this restroom were all replaced last week; they’re all manual now. Didn't I just see him turn the water off?!
My heart was as cold and dripping as my hands. Just as I turned to flee, I heard the Team Heartthrob say, with his usual economy of words, "Paper towels are over here."
I hadn't planned on drying my hands; I was just going to let them air dry. Besides, the dispenser was on his side...
As I reached past Ling Xiao’s chest to tug three times before finally getting a paper towel out, I felt the "Iceberg’s Scorn" looming over my back.
"Do you need any other 'consideration'?" Ling Xiao asked.
The sense of defeat was so heavy my reaction time lagged.
"Then I’ll see you at the match." With that, the Team Heartthrob left.
Whether this was his psychological tactic or not, it clearly worked. Never in my life had I, Qiao Mai, felt so profoundly like an idiot.
***
