champion
For the next week, Yu Chen's schedule was split in two—
During the day in the classroom, she was just an ordinary transfer student: her school uniform was buttoned up to the top, her bright red hair was tucked into her hat, her handwriting was sharp, and she solved problems very quickly.
At 10 p.m., she climbed over the school wall, took a taxi straight to the city boxing gym, changed into red protective gear, and the sound of her boxing gloves hitting the leather was muffled and steady, like an outward heartbeat.
Training ended at 1 a.m., and she sneaked back to the dormitory—the window of the second-floor water room was always left a crack, and her roommate Tian Ying was responsible for guarding the door. When she heard three meows, she would quietly open the window, hand her a glass of glucose water, and write the dormitory supervisor's patrol schedule on a sticky note.
"2:10 End, safe."
Thursday night, the last subway train.
Yu Chen leaned against the connecting area between the carriages, her hat pulled down low, wearing only a black vest under her school uniform jacket. Her back was soaked with sweat, and the air conditioning made small particles crawl up to her neck. She was carrying a 32-inch sports bag, with a roll of black bandage stuffed in the side mesh pocket—Xiao Wei's, which she had forgotten to take after training last night.
My phone vibrated; it was Xiao Wei's voice message, lasting 3 seconds.
"Don't run after you get off the bus, I brought you some sweet soup."
His voice was low and husky, with the dampness of someone who had just taken a shower, as if he were speaking with a mint on his tongue.
Yu Chen listened to the voice message twice, his lips unconsciously curving upwards. But when he looked up, he caught a glimpse of his reflection in the car window—the bruise below his collarbone, left by Xiao Wei's knee strike during training. The color had faded from dark green to light yellow, with a pale pink tinge at the edges, like a copper coin soaked in rainwater.
She reached out and pressed her fingertips against the bruise. It was slightly painful, yet strangely comforting.
——
Friday 00:47 Back door of the boxing gym
Xiao Wei leaned against the motorcycle, her black baseball cap pulled down to her brow bone, a thermos bag between her fingers, its exterior covered in condensation. Seeing Yu Chen emerge, she reached out and handed her the bag, her voice low: "Rock sugar pear soup, no ice, just something to soothe your throat."
Yu Chen took the cup, her fingertips touching the other's palm, their temperatures mingling—one scalding hot, the other slightly cool. She lowered her head and took a sip, the sweetness mixed with the pear fragrance rolling down her throat, but then handed the cup back: "You drink too."
Xiao Wei took the straw from her hand, her eyelashes casting two cold, sharp lines under the streetlight. After finishing a sip, she raised her hand and wiped Yu Chen's lips with her fingertips, her voice hoarse and soft: "The selection is on Friday, see you at the competition."
"Okay." Yu Chen nodded, hooking his little finger around hers, like a fist bump in the boxing ring, "See you on the field."
——
Saturday 1:05 PM, Linxia Sports School (within the sports school)
Tian Ying opened the window, and Yu Chen climbed in, his gym bag landing first, followed by himself—his movements were as light as a cat's, yet he still bumped his knee on the window frame, wincing in pain but remaining silent. Everyone else in the dorm was asleep; only Tian Ying handed him some glucose water, her voice extremely low:
"Good luck with the selection tomorrow."
Yu Chen hummed in agreement, then tucked Xiao Wei's bandage under her pillow, like hiding a still-pulled fuse. She changed into her pajamas, lay down on the upper bunk, and moonlight streamed in through the gaps in the curtains, falling on the side of her pillow—
There, pale pink bruises and black bandages stood side by side, like a medal dulled by time, or like a new bell ringing ahead of time.
She closed her eyes, but her heartbeat remained steady.
Thump, thump, thump.
Like the sound of a subway, like the sound of a boxing ring, and like someone whispering:
"Don't be afraid, I'm here."
Friday, provincial team selection hall.
A circular array of lights pressed down from the dome, shining a blinding white, like a scorched iron coin suspended above a 60x60 blue mat. The surrounding ropes had been recently replaced; they were a deep blue, reflective, like a taut lake. The stands were only seven-tenths full, yet the air was thick with heat—the dull thud of boxing gloves against leather, the rapid clicks of camera shutters, the fading "beep" of the timer—all were drawn into the dome, amplified into the echo of a heartbeat.
Yu Chen stood diagonally opposite, clad in red protective gear, her bright red hair sticking out from the adjustment holes on the back of her boxing gloves like a persistent, unquenchable fuse. She raised her hand, biting off a Velcro strap, her knuckles still bearing faint scratches from when she climbed over the wall in the early morning—her training log for the week: leaving the gym at 1 a.m., climbing through the window at 2 a.m., falling asleep at 3 a.m., and starting her morning reading at 7 a.m. Seven rounds of this, grinding the word "tired" into powder, sprinkling it into every drop of sweat.
Opposite her was Liang Yan, the provincial champion in the 60kg category. 24 years old, a senior athlete from the sports academy, with a record of 15 KOs in 17 fights, nicknamed "Iron Lungs." She struck her chest guard with both forehand and backhand, producing hollow "thump-thump" drumbeats, her shoulder and back muscles undulating under her black vest like a diesel engine that had just been warmed up.
The referee gestured for a fist bump. Liang Yan took a step closer, lowered his eyes, and shot out his gaze from above his mouthguard, carrying the salty, fishy taste unique to the defending champion: "Transfer student? Don't let him make it past the first round."
Yu Chen didn't reply. He stretched out his right fist and lightly touched her fist—like attaching a fuse to a gun.
The bell rings, round one.
Liang Yan opened with a classic move: a forward slide, double jabs, and a right straight punch, the rhythm as steady as a stopwatch. Yu Chen dodged the first jab by tilting her head, but the second grazed her right cheek, the edge of her mouthguard hitting the inside of her mouth, and the taste of blood instantly filled her mouth. Instead of retreating, she lowered her shoulder, cut into the opponent's inner circle, and aimed a left hook at her liver area—
"Bang!"
The boxing gloves collided with the rectus abdominis muscles, producing a dull, wet thud. Liang Yan didn't even flinch, his right hook slamming towards Yu Chen's temple. Yu Chen slid back half a step, bouncing off the rope, then cut in again with a low sweep—targeting the outside of his opponent's left shin. Liang Yan blocked with his knee, pressing forward with a neck choke and knee strike—a textbook inside combo. Yu Chen felt a tightness in his chest from the impact, but smoothly turned to the right, his elbow grazing Liang Yan's cheekbone, like adding a marginal note to a textbook.
The first round ended, and the score was temporarily behind. Yu Chen returned to the corner, and Xiao Wei pressed an ice pack to the side of her neck, his voice low and steady: "Don't rely on strength, rely on rhythm. She has big lungs, you have a small heart, pull her into overtime."
Yu Chen spat out the blood and foam from her mouth and nodded. Sweat rolled down her eyelashes and into her eyes, stinging, but it was like adding a sharpening filter to her vision—she saw Liang Yan gulping down water on the other side, his chest heaving more than at the beginning, like a diesel engine finally starting to leak oil.
In the second round, Yu Chen took the initiative to change speed.
She suddenly increased her pace, sliding forward, retreating, and feinting, like scrambling a stopwatch. Liang Yan's rhythm was disrupted, and her right straight punches began to miss, the force of the punches whistling through the air in vain. Yu Chen seized the opportunity to sweep low—left, right, left, in the same spot, her calf muscles quickly turning red. Liang Yan felt the pain, her center of gravity shifting slightly. Yu Chen lowered her shoulder and delivered a hook punch behind her ear—
"Bang!"
Liang Yan's head tilted, his teeth guard flying halfway off, but he gritted his teeth and charged forward, forcing Yu Chen into the corner of the ropes, unleashing a barrage of hook punches like a hammer slamming into an anvil. Yu Chen's arms tightened around the ropes, his ribs tingling from the impact, but then he suddenly ducked and turned to the right—
"Bang!"
A rear straight punch passed under Liang Yan's elbow, landing precisely between her seventh and eighth ribs on her left side—the air intake valve of her "iron lungs." Liang Yan's breathing visibly faltered, and her movements slowed by 0.3 seconds. Yu Chen seized the opening and launched a high sweep—her right leg stretched into a full moon shape in the air, her instep trembling as if a fully drawn bowstring had been drawn—
"Smack!"
The instep struck Liang Yan's right cheek, loosening the black helmet strap and sending beads of sweat fanning out. The entire audience rose to their feet in a roar, the red light on the timer flashed, and the second round ended.
Round three, overtime.
Blood trickled from Liang Yan's lips, yet she smiled, revealing her stained teeth, like a beast adorned with victory makeup. She suddenly changed tactics, 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. Liang Yan charged forward, unleashing a barrage of hooks, her gloves slamming against the 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 Liang Yan's elbow, and circled behind him—
"Bang!"
A rear straight punch landed on the inside of her right shoulder blade, causing Liang Yan to stagger. Yu Chen didn't give her a chance to breathe, executing a low sweep—left, right, left—on the same spot, until her calf muscles finally showed a visible tremor. Liang Yan lost her balance, and Yu Chen lowered his shoulder, delivering a hook punch behind her ear—
"Bang!"
Liang Yan knelt on one knee, his 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 entire arena erupted in cheers, the audience screaming as if 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 vest plastered to his chest by sweat, his pectoral 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—
"After this summer, I'll go home with you."
The lights cast their shadows on the ropes—one lifting, the other embracing, like a new bell ringing ahead of time.
Continue read on readnovelmtl.com
