21 days
Twenty-one days after the provincial team selection ended, the medical office finally issued Yu Chen a certificate of "full recovery".
Qin Yu was with her on the day the stitches were removed from her finger. Layer by layer, the gauze was peeled away, revealing new, pale pink skin, like a boxing rope smoothed by time. Qin Yu reached out, her fingertips gently touching the skin, her voice low but tender: "Does it still hurt?"
Yu Chen shook his head, clenched his fist—his knuckles turned white—then relaxed it, and waved his palm at his mother: "It doesn't hurt, you can go back to the boxing ring now."
That same afternoon, at the sports school training hall.
Xiao Wei leaned against the sandbag, tossed her the red boxing gloves, his hat brim pressed down to his brow bone, and said in a low, lazy voice, "Come on, let's inspect the goods."
Yu Chen wasn't wearing protective gear, only a cloth wrapped around her hands, and threw three sets of straight punches in quick succession—the sound of the gloves striking the leather was muffled and steady, like an outward projection of a heartbeat. With her final right straight punch, she lowered her right shoulder, twisted her hips, and channeled power from her feet to her knuckles—
"Bang!" The sandbag was jolted backward, and the iron chain creaked.
Xiao Wei's lips curled up, and he reached out to wipe the sweat from her forehead with his fingertips. His voice was hoarse but satisfied: "Qualified, out of the factory."
Nighttime, No. 1 Middle School dormitory.
Yu Chen packed her backpack, stuffing in the last training outfit. Her roommate, Ke Xin, leaned over the table, watching her movements, and whispered, "Are you really all better?"
"Hmm." Yu Chen raised his hand and waved his knuckles in front of her. "See? New skin, zero scars."
Kexin clicked her tongue twice and handed over a bag of lemon gummies: "Let's celebrate—all sugar, so it won't cool you down."
Yu Chen smiled, folded the candy into his pocket, and zipped up his backpack—the sound was crisp, like putting an end to the old situation.
The next morning, at the school gate.
Yu Jing and Qin Yu stood by the car, the trunk open, containing Yu Chen's training bag and red boxing glove bag. Yu Jing handed her a black card—a letter of acceptance for a formal provincial team membership, 60kg class, with a gleaming embossed seal.
"In the future, will you play professionally?" Yu Jing's voice was low, but it trembled almost imperceptibly.
"First, we'll compete in the National Youth Championship." Yu Chen tucked the card into the back of his phone case, looked up, his gaze bright and steady, "Then we'll win the world championship."
Qin Yu reached out and pulled her into his arms, his voice muffled in the crook of her shoulder: "Go on, the new apron is waiting for you."
The sports school bus slowly drove away from Linxia No.1 Middle School.
By the car window, Yu Chen turned her hat brim back, letting the bright red ends of her hair pop out like a fuse being lit. She looked down and sent a voice message to Xiao Wei, her voice soft yet tinged with laughter:
"All set, let's go."
The reply came instantly, just two words, yet carrying a hint of minty freshness:
"Wait for you."
As the bus rounded the bend in the mountain, sunlight refracted through the windshield and fell on her knuckles—there, her pale pink new skin overlapped with the calluses of the past, like a battle line stitched together by time, finally completely healed.
All good —
It's not a period, it's a starting gun.
60kg category, Youth Championship final.
Mo Ying – 17 years old, 174 cm tall, 188 cm reach, with a record of 12 KOs in 14 domestic youth fights, nicknamed "White Blade".
She stood beside the electronic scale, her shoulder-length black hair tucked behind her ears, her collarbone a stark white, as if sliced by the back of a knife. The reporter pressed the shutter; she looked up, her gaze piercing through the crowd, landing precisely on Yu Chen—
"We meet again, Redhead." The voice wasn't loud, but it was loud enough for the microphone to pick up. "Don't leave the stage crying this time."
Yu Chen tossed her school uniform jacket over her shoulder and stepped onto the scale—59.8 kg. The red light turned, and she tilted her head, revealing pale pink skin behind her ear, her voice even softer than the other person's:
"Don't worry, I'll save the tears for you."
The flashbulbs of cameras turned daylight bright. Xiao Wei leaned against the backstage doorway, dressed in a black suit with a name tag that read "Registered Coach." Her hat was pulled low, revealing only a slight smile—
"The gunpowder is loaded, just waiting for the bell to ring."
Technology Alignment Table
Arm span: Mo Ying +6 cm
Knockout rate: Mo Ying 80% | Yu Chen 75%
Preferred tactics: Mo Ying – Jab + High Kick Combo | Yu Chen – Variable Speed Advance + Inside Knee Strike
The turning point: the second half of the third round, when the stamina bar is low.
Match Day · 22:00 Youth Hall
The circular light bar illuminated, and the newly replaced blue ropes resembled a taut lake surface. The audience was about 70% full, with cell phone flashes going off one after another, turning the dome into a shimmering sea of stars.
Round 1
The bell rings—
Mo Ying indeed switched to "blade-like" mode: a forward slide followed by double jabs, then a high sweep with her rear hand, like two cold blades drawn in quick succession. Yu Chen dodged the first jab by turning her head, but the second grazed her right cheek, the smell of blood exploding instantly. She didn't retreat, lowering her shoulder to cut in, her left hook aimed at her opponent's liver area—
"Bang!"
The boxing gloves collided with Yu Chen's rectus abdominis muscles, but Mo Yan didn't even flinch, instead slamming her right elbow towards Yu Chen's temple. Yu Chen slid back half a step, bounced off the rope, and then cut in again with a low sweep—left, right, left, all from the same spot, his calf muscles quickly turning red. Mo Ying's center of gravity shifted slightly, but she pressed forward with the momentum, a neck choke followed by a knee strike—a textbook inside combo. Yu Chen felt a tightness in his chest from the impact, but then suddenly lowered his body and turned to the right—
"Bang!"
A rear straight punch passed under Mo Ying's elbow, landing precisely between her seventh and eighth ribs on her left side—the back of a blade. Mo Ying's breath hitched, and her movements slowed by 0.3 seconds. Yu Chen seized the opening, delivering a high sweep—his right leg forming a full moon shape in the air, his instep trembling—
"Smack!"
The instep struck Mo Ying's right cheek, loosening the black helmet strap and sending beads of sweat fanning out. The red light flashed, ending the first round.
Round 2
Mo Ying smiled, blood trickling from the corner of her mouth, revealing her stained teeth, like sharpening a blade. She suddenly changed her rhythm, a forward slide followed by two feints and a rear hook, targeting Yu Chen's left temple. Yu Chen retreated, bouncing off the ropes, then retreated again—only to be cornered. Mo Ying charged forward, unleashing a barrage of hooks, her gloves slamming against his protective gear with a rapid, muffled thud. Yu Chen tightened his arms, feeling his ribs vibrate, his breathing becoming shallow and rapid—like that night a week ago when he was devastated by the news of his disqualification.
She suddenly remembered what Xiao Wei had said on the subway—
"Put her into overtime."
Thinking of the moonlight filtering through the cracks in the dormitory window,
I remember the minty scent of the bandages scattered on my pillow.
She suddenly ducked, turned to the left, slipped under Mo Ying's elbow, and circled behind her—
"Bang!"
A rear straight punch landed on the inside of her right shoulder blade, causing Mo Ying to stagger. Yu Chen didn't give her a chance to breathe, executing low sweeps—left, right, left—on the same spot, until her calf muscles finally showed a visible tremor. Mo Ying lost her balance, and Yu Chen lowered his shoulder, delivering a hook punch behind her ear—
"Bang!"
Mo Ying knelt on one knee, her helmet hitting the mat with a dull thud. The timer's red light flashed, and the referee began the countdown—
"Eight, nine, ten!"
KO, Red Corner wins.
The audience erupted in cheers
Screams erupted from the audience, like someone had ripped off a tin roof. Yu Chen stood in the center of the boxing ring, her arms raised by the referee. Sweat rolled down her eyelashes and into her eyes, stinging, yet it seemed to add a soft-focus filter to her vision—she saw Xiao Wei roll up from the corner, his black suit jacket plastered to his chest by sweat, his chest muscles undulating like an undercurrent.
Xiao Wei approached, reached out, and wiped the bloodstains from the corner of her lips with his fingertips, his voice low and hoarse: "You won."
Yu Chen hummed in agreement, hooking his little finger around hers, like a fist bump in a boxing ring—
Post-match tunnel
Mo Ying removed her helmet, her black hair soaked and clinging to her neck. She looked up at Yu Chen, her eyes showing no resentment, only a sharp gleam honed by a blade: "The national finals, wait for me."
Yu Chen nodded, slung the red boxing glove bag over his shoulder, and flicked the ends of his bright red hair in the light, like a fuse being lit: "Waiting for you."
At the end of the corridor, Xiao Wei leaned against the doorframe, dressed in a black suit with a name tag that read "Registered Coach." Her hat was pulled low, revealing only a slight smile—
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