Mast Morning Boxing Gym
The gym's lights were old-fashioned metal halide lamps, hanging from steel beams, each one shining brightly and pushing the darkness in the four corners back.
This boxing gym was designed by Xiao Wei himself, and only Yu Chen has ever been to this private space.
The light, like a bucket of boiling molten tin, poured down from above and landed on the blue and red mat of the ring, releasing a subtle rubbery smell.
When Yu Chen pushed open the door, the smell suddenly hit his face, hot and sticky, carrying the lingering sweat from the previous night, like some kind of living memory.
Xiao Wei stood with his back to the door, barefoot, wearing black shorts and white bandages wrapped around his ankles.
With each punch, his shoulder blade slid down his tanned skin, revealing a sharp edge. Beads of sweat rolled down his spine, sliced into gold by the lamplight, and slammed onto the mat with a "thud," like a short gunshot.
The sandbags are specially made, weighing 20 kilograms more than usual. The brownish-red filling is exposed through the cracks in the outer skin, and they bulge with each tug of force, like a heart that refuses to stop beating.
"The last group."
Xiao Wei whispered, his voice almost inaudible as it clattered against the leather of his boxing gloves.
She suddenly sped up—a jab, a straight punch, a hook, and a knee strike, all combined into a chilling straight line. Finally, a high roundhouse kick struck the middle of the sandbag with a "bang," sending the bag flying sideways. The chains creaked sharply, as if in pain for it.
The sweat mist exploded in the light, like a small, transparent firework.
She then turned around.
His black hair was soaked with sweat and clung to the side of his neck, with tiny beads of sweat hanging on his eyelashes, trembling up and down with his breathing.
She looked at Yu Chen, her gaze first falling on the ends of his bright red hair, then down to the collarbone faintly visible at the neckline of his old short-sleeved shirt from the sports school—that bone gleamed coldly under the light, like an unsheathed dagger.
"Ten laps."
Xiao Wei threw the bottle of ice water over, and the bottle spun in the air, the water droplets flying out in a silver streak.
Yu Chen didn't catch it, letting the bottle smash at his feet, roll to the corner of the wall, and make a hollow "thump-thump".
"I didn't come here to run."
Her voice wasn't loud, but it had a metallic quality, as if it had just been coughed up from her lungs.
"I want to fight—"
She paused, pressed the tip of her tongue against her canine tooth, and sharpened the last syllable into a razor-sharp sound, "With you."
The boxing gym fell silent instantly.
The exhaust fan was still spinning, whooshing and whirring, like an old film reel being pulled through a projector.
Xiao Wei wiped his chin with his wristband, the sweat stains forming a dark map on the gray fabric.
She stared at Yu Chen, a hint of surprise flashing in her eyes before being consumed by an even stronger dark fire.
Protective gear.
She only said two words, her voice so low it was almost a whisper, yet it sounded like a referee giving a final instruction to a player.
——
The changing room was partitioned off with wooden boards, and the peeling paint on the walls revealed a 20th-century "World Boxing" poster with curled edges, like an old wound gnawed by time.
Yu Chen put on a red bra, and as she tied her fingers into a knot behind her back, her knuckles made a slight "click".
The person in the mirror had short, wolf-tail hair with the ends dyed dark red, like a fuse burning to its tip.
She raised her hand and wrapped bandages around her right hand, one after another—not for protection, but to suppress the tremor that was seeping from the very marrow of her bones.
The ropes surrounding the ring were new, dark blue, and gleamed coldly under the lights.
Xiao Wei leaned against the opposite corner, wearing black protective gear. There was an old scratch on his breastplate, running diagonally from his collarbone to his ribs, like a lightning bolt nailed to the leather.
She put her hands behind her back and slowly tightened the glove straps, her knuckles pulsating like a reef wriggling beneath the surface of the water.
There were no bells, no placard girls, and no audience.
The lamp was the only witness, pinning the two shadows to the mat, one long and one short, yet equally sharp.
Yu Chen took a step forward, the red rope leaving a thin mark on her waist, like locking a flame.
She raised her hand, her boxing glove touching Xiao Wei's boxing glove—a soft "thud," almost inaudible, yet like a death knell tolling in advance.
The first punch is a test.
The rear straight punch is delivered with the shoulder and hips rotating simultaneously, the glove whistling as it cuts through the air.
Xiao Wei turned her head, and beads of sweat flew down her brow bone and landed on the ropes of the ring like a string of shattered dewdrops.
Yu Chen's punch grazed her earlobe, lifting a few strands of wet hair. But the hair was deflected by Xiao Wei's left arm the instant it bounced back—the movement was so small it was almost stingy, yet as precise as a scalpel.
This was followed by a knee strike.
Yu Chen lowered his shoulders, grabbed Xiao Wei's neck, and lifted his hips—his knees thrusting towards his abdomen.
"Bang!"
A muffled thud exploded in his chest cavity, and Xiao Wei's rectus abdominis muscles tensed instantly, like a rubber sheet that had been suddenly stretched to its limit.
She grunted, but instead of retreating, she pressed forward, her right hook sliding in along Yu Chen's ribs. The glove collided with the protective gear, making a wet, heavy "thud," like a fish being thrown onto a deck.
Yu Chen's vision went white, and the pain took half a second to reach his nerve endings—dull, heavy, with a rebounding tremor.
She grinned, revealing a small bloodstain at the corner of her mouth, a result of biting herself while staying up late last night.
"This is all the world champions have?"
She spat out blood and laughter together, her voice hoarse yet sharp, uniquely youthful.
Xiao Wei licked his lips, tasting the salt and iron, and the dark fire in his eyes finally burst into bright flames with a "boom".
She suddenly leaned forward, their shoulders and chests touching. Yu Chen could smell the hot sweat on her skin, like a rock baked by the sun.
Xiao Wei's breath fell behind her ear, short and hot, with a low laugh: "Stubborn."
——
In the final round, both players were exhausted.
Sweat trickled down their brows and into their eyes, stinging, but no one reached out to wipe it away.
Yu Chen's left leg was trembling. When she swept her leg low, her muscles felt like they were filled with lead, and each time she lifted it, it emitted a silent scream.
Xiao Wei's punches slowed down; the heavy sword had no edge, yet it could still shatter the air.
High sweeping is Yu Chen's last bargaining chip.
She feinted, her right shoulder sinking, and Xiao Wei instinctively lowered his arm to block—
But they fell into a trap.
Yu Chen's leg traced a crescent shape in the air, and the ends of her bright red hair were lifted by the wind, like an inverted flag, heading straight for Xiao Wei's right cheek.
"Smack!"
Xiao Wei's left arm forcefully blocked his leg, and the muscles collided, producing a dull thud that made one's teeth ache.
The next second, everything spun around – Xiao Wei took a throw, his right shoulder slamming into Yu Chen's abdomen, his arms encircling her knees, and he was thrown off the mat.
The moment his back slammed onto the ring, Yu Chen heard a hollow "gurgle" from his lungs, like a flattened soda can.
The lights exploded into white noise before her eyes, and the world fell silent.
Xiao Wei knelt beside her, his left leg braced against her right arm, his right fist hovering two centimeters above her nose, beads of sweat dripping from his knuckles.
The first drop hit her forehead, burning her and making her shiver.
The second drop slid into the corner of her eye, mixing with the saline solution to form a salty, bitter river.
"Admit defeat?"
Xiao Wei's voice came from a great distance, low and hoarse, with panting breaths, like sandpaper rubbing against the eardrum.
Yu Chen opened his mouth, and oxygen finally filled his alveoli, producing a bellows-like "ho".
She saw Xiao Wei's eyelashes glistening with moisture under the light, and the old scar on his collarbone rising and falling with his breath, like a sleeping centipede.
She suddenly laughed, revealing her blood-stained canine teeth. Her voice was so soft it was almost a whisper, yet it crackled with stubbornness.
"Loss my ass."
Xiao Wei stared at her, a storm brewing in his eyes.
The next second, she abruptly ripped off her boxing gloves, the leather and Velcro separating with a rough "rip".
He cupped Yu Chen's face in his burning palms, his thumb wiping the bloodstains on the corner of her lips as if wiping a piece of porcelain about to shatter.
He leaned down and kissed her.
It was a kiss tinged with the smell of blood and sweat.
The lips first touched, then rubbed, and finally bit—
Xiao Wei's tongue swept across Yu Chen's upper lip, which was salty from being soaked in sweat. He tasted the rust, the lingering sweetness of the glucose water, and all the sharpness of the boy's refusal to back down.
Yu Chen's mind went blank; the lack of oxygen caused golden-red stars to explode before her eyes, yet she instinctively responded—
The teeth collided, making a soft "click," like two flints igniting a small fire in each other's mouths.
Breath is stolen, the world shrinks to the beat of the other's heartbeat:
Thump—Xiao Wei’s left chest pressed against her ribs, his heart pounding like a straight punch from behind.
Thump—Yu Chen's own heartbeat was fast and chaotic, like the indiscriminate frenzy of the last ten seconds of a match.
Until a muffled clap of thunder rolled across the roof, both of them shuddered simultaneously.
Xiao Wei stepped back slightly, forehead to forehead, nose to nose, their breaths mingling.
Her voice was low and hoarse, damp with sweat, like ice water handed to him from the corner of the boxing ring, yet it scalded Yu Chen's eardrums.
"Yu Chen, I've been waiting for you to grow up for three years."
——
The torrential rain exploded on the roof, and the tin shed emitted a dense drumbeat, like countless spectators applauding.
The light flickered, went out, then came back on, like a referee counting down the seconds—
Eight, nine, ten...
KO, the old game is over, the new game is yet to be decided.
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