Chapter 34: A gamble that was destined to be lost was won by Yan Ceyan handing over the victory...
Dating Yan Ceyan is really boring.
Amusement park Ferris wheel, romantic candlelight dinner, hotel rooftop swimming pool... Yan Quan originally thought that a date would be like this.
However, the reality is... a shooting range?
Before me lay a vast expanse of dry, exposed loess riverbed, with sparse shrubs rustling in the howling wind.
Yan Ceyan frowned slightly, his lips were pressed tightly together, and his sharp gaze was focused on the fast-moving target.
With the butt of the rifle resting against the cheek and firmly against the shoulder socket, the right hand naturally slides into the grip, and the index finger pre-presses the trigger (first fire).
"Bang—" The number 10 suddenly lit up on the electronic screen that made the judgment.
He briefly held his breath, opened his eyes, and quickly focused on the target through the red dot sight of the iron sights. Yan Ceyan decisively and steadily pressed the second trigger with his right index finger.
"Bang!" Another crisp gunshot rang out, another bullseye.
"Bang bang bang—" The silenced gunshots rang out continuously, and the numbers on the electronic screen jumped around.
At first, Yan Quan was a little curious, but after that, all the numbers were the same: 10. Yan Quan lost interest in it.
Later... I don't know if Yan Ceyan got tired of holding such a heavy gun, but Yan Quan, sitting in the rest area, certainly did. Staring at Yan Ceyan's focused profile, he started chatting idly.
"Yan Ceyan," Yan Quan called out the name first.
"Bang—" The gunshot was delayed by 0.1 seconds, and the electronic sound display on the screen finally emitted a different number: "9".
Oh… Yan Quan curled her lips slightly. Now she had finally found something interesting about this date activity.
Yan Ceyan tilted his head and glanced at Yan Quan through the military windshield, raising a sharp eyebrow: "Hmm?"
"It's nothing." Yan Quan smiled at Yan Ceyan with her fox-like eyes: "You can continue."
Then Yan Ceyan quickly pulled the bolt with his left hand to eject the spent cartridge and chamber a round, his eyes and the muzzle already shifting to the next point (a moving target appearing on his flank).
Just a second before pulling the trigger, Yan Quan deliberately spoke again: "Yan Ceyan."
"Bang—" Yan Quan felt that this gunshot was 0.2 seconds slower than the last one?
Sure enough, the electronic voice on the display screen announced a different number: "8.3".
Wow... Yan Quan curled his fingers on the chair, a strange sense of smugness rising in his heart.
"...?" Yan Ceyan took off his goggles this time, turned his head to stare straight at Yan Quan, and a helpless smile appeared on his lips: "What exactly do you want to do?"
"Interference resistance training." Yan Quan lowered the glass, blinked slyly, and whispered in Yan Ceyan's ear:
"Ahem, Comrade Yan Ceyan, in real combat, all sorts of interfering factors will always occur. For example..."
"For example, what?" Yan Quan's breath brushed against his ear, carrying a faint scent of citrus and oranges, making Yan Ceyan's heart itch a little.
"For example, someone suddenly calls your name." Yan Quan listened with a hint of smugness, thinking that he had mastered a foolproof trump card.
Fool……
Yan Ceyan chuckled to himself.
Resisting environmental noise interference is the most basic, entry-level skill. Yan Ceyan always gets full marks in such assessments.
It worked just now... simply because the person who spoke was Yan Quan, nothing more.
"Let's make a bet." Yan Quan leaned closer to Yan Ceyan's neck, his voice carrying a hint of cool laughter:
"If I successfully distract you from the next three targets, and you fail to hit an 8 or higher on one of them..."
"You... um, let me think." Yan Quan tilted her head and thought for a while, her soft hair hooking against the back of Yan Ceyan's neck.
Yan Ceyan couldn't help but reach his arm out of the windowsill and pull Yan Quan's neck even closer. His heart was overflowing with emotion, and his thoughts were beginning to falter…
Therefore, Yan Ceyan had reason to suspect that the bet had already begun, and Yan Quan's hesitation was a deliberate attempt to mess with his mindset.
Of course, the effect of "manipulating mindset" was remarkable. Yan Quan pondered for almost a minute before finally having a flash of inspiration, "I've got it, you just..."
Yan Quan's voice was instantly silenced by his lips... because Yan Ceyan held Yan Quan's chin with his fingers and focused on kissing him.
A soft touch came over, and Yan Quan pursed her lips and narrowed her eyes slightly: Okay... this counts as 0.5 kiss.
Because Yan Ceyan finally stopped biting indiscriminately like a stray dog, but... Yan Quan felt a little helpless.
Yan Ceyan was clearly a complete novice who had never been in a relationship. He didn't even know how to turn over properly, and his kisses were a little... well, bland and uninspired.
Next time, when their lips part. Yan Quan secretly made up his mind—he decided to find an opportunity to properly teach Yan Ceyan the "correct" kissing technique.
"Ahem, alright." Yan Quan sat up straight in the rest area chair, his expression regaining its composure. "Let's start the bet now."
"If I win, you have to grant me one request unconditionally."
"Okay." Yan Ceyan nodded in agreement.
He repositioned his gun, preparing for the standard firing stance. This time, however, a barely suppressed smile played on the corners of Yan Ceyan's lips beneath his large goggles.
The rustling of the bushes' leaves was followed by the sudden appearance of a moving target above. Yan Ceyan instantly locked onto the bullseye, his right index finger lightly resting on the trigger, and slowly pressed down…
"Yan Ceyan," Yan Quan said at the opportune moment.
"Bang—" The sound of gunfire and the electronic voice announcing the count rang out one after another: "9.8".
"Sigh..." Yan Quan sighed.
Yan Ceyan skillfully changed the chamber, "Next."
The learning speed and adaptability of an S-level Alpha are indeed extremely fast. Even though Yan Quan changed his strategy and called Yan Ceyan "sick," Yan Ceyan still managed to score a brilliant 9.9.
Only one moving target remains.
Yan Ceyan clearly found his rhythm, becoming more and more accurate with each shot, his eyes glued to the screen, his focus unwavering.
Adjusting the eyepiece diopter, slightly bending his fingers for stable support, and keeping his cheek against the buttstock for consistency... Yan Ceyan was ready to go, determined to score a perfect 10 rings.
Yan Quan felt he was doomed to lose...
The wind whistled through the loess sand, and the moving target darted past the dry riverbed. Yan Ceyan held his breath, his ears keenly sensing the current wind direction, his left hand subtly adjusting the wind deflector knob…
After confirming that the sniping position was correct, Yan Ceyan firmly placed his hand on the trigger.
It was at that moment that Yan Quanyuan, gazing at the human-shaped target flickering in and out of focus amidst the vast expanse of yellow sand, suddenly said without warning:
"Yan Ceyan, have you ever thought about what would happen if there was a person tied to the target...?"
Yan Ceyan's fingertips froze for a moment.
But the next second, Yan Quan blurted out, "What if the person you're shooting is me?"
"Bang—" The rubber bullet swiftly grazed the air, tracing a straight line that cut through the sky, carrying a fierce, electrified momentum—
But……
But there was no echo. It was swallowed up by the slowly spreading yellow sand, as if it were dead.
The electronic display system also lagged behind by several seconds before slowly announcing a number that had never been seen before in the historical archives: "0".
Yan Ceyan missed the target.
Since he learned to hold a gun and mastered a series of standard postures for aiming and shooting, he has never missed the target.
Ha… Yan Ceyan stared through his goggles at the moving humanoid target that was gradually emerging from the yellow sand, and suddenly realized something. He choked and let out a low gasp.
Yan Ceyan already knew.
His greatest weakness was Yan Quan.
"Yan Ceyan! You're supposed to be a sharpshooter with a 100% hit rate, yet you missed..." The windshield rolled down, and Yan Quan excitedly poked his head in:
Is it 0? Is it 0?
"I guess I win this time."
"It's agreed that I win if any one of the three targets scores below 8."
*Recollection of the dividing line, the end*
"It's agreed that I win if any one of the three targets scores above 8."
"The bet..." Yan Quan paused, then instinctively murmured, "It's the same as before."
The exposed riverbed, billowing yellow sand, and sparse shrubs listlessly swirling and rubbing among the flying sand.
Gazing at the familiar scene before him, Yan Quan took a deep breath...
Whether it's a sense of déjà vu or simply a case of things changing beyond recognition... Yan Quan has transformed from an eighteen-year-old sitting in the rest area watching into a sniper engaged in actual combat at the shooting range.
"Okay, I promise you." Yan Ceyan slowly turned his gaze and looked calmly at Yan Quan.
The exact same words, spoken seven years later, come from the same person. They now carry completely opposite meanings.
That used to be indulgence and pampering.
Now, however, it's a cold standoff.
[Hey, after your boxing match date this morning, you two should come to the shooting range after lunch.]
Other couples' dates are like special forces on vacation, but you two are real special forces.
"I don't know either. My grandma just asked me again why I switched to the sports channel while watching a romance variety show?"
Let me reiterate, this is a dating show, not a live broadcast of the Olympics.
Judging from Yan Quan's familiarity with the shooting range, have they been here before?
"I knew it! Oh, it's about reminiscing about the past. That makes sense."
[What a load of rubbish! It would be weird if they used to date in places like this. (speechless)]
[Um...shouldn't the focus be on the bet? It seems they've struck some kind of secret deal again.]
[It's another shared past memory between the two of them, right... Damn it, this information gap in trying to mend a broken relationship.]
Remove your finger from the trigger guard, check the surrounding target path and backfill area for safety; insert the magazine, assume the standard firing position, and let the muzzle naturally point at the target...
Then adjust your breathing to a steady pace and calm your heart rate. Enter the aiming phase at the end of the last exhalation—
Focus your eye on the crosshair (the target may be slightly blurry), ensuring the sights are aligned perfectly with your line of sight (no shadows/ghosting).
Yan Ceyan stood by, watching Yan Quan perform this series of fluid and practiced movements. A slight ripple appeared in his calm eyes:
In his memory, Yan Quan was not someone who liked shooting sports.
In his past interactions, if he told Yan Quan that he was going to the shooting range for training that day, in most cases Yan Quan would squint his eyes, smile, and wave at him, saying, "Good luck, sharpshooter. I'm not going."
"I'll be playing the game while mentally applauding your amazing skill in hitting every ten rings..."
Thinking of this, Yan Ceyan couldn't help but clench his knuckles slightly: it seems that in these seven years apart, he wasn't the only one who had undergone tremendous changes.
"Bang—" Yan Quan pressed down with the pad of his index finger, and the first burst of fire shot out with lightning speed.
The electronic voice accurately announced the number: "7.3".
Sigh… Yan Quan released his fingertip from the trigger, a little regretful: the guns used at the Federation A shooting range seemed different from those back home; this one was a bit heavier. Otherwise, given his skill level, he should have been able to score an eight-ring.
It's okay, you still have two more chances.
This time, Yan Quan learned from his mistake, maintaining his original firing posture and holding his breath to feel the pressure on the gun. He then slightly shifted his gaze to observe the point of impact.
Okay... this time definitely.
"Bang—" The gunshot rang out. 7.96...
Tsk... Yan Quan frowned noticeably, starting to complain that the counting precision was too accurate... If only you rounded off the last two decimal places.
"This is the last time," Yan Ceyan said at the opportune moment. Yan Quan sensed a hint of doubt in his tone.
“I can really score 8 rings,” Yan Quan retorted, trying to save face. “My highest score is 8.9.”
"..." Yan Ceyan didn't reply, but instead glanced over the gun in Yan Quan's hand: an M4 basic rifle, 5.56×45mm NATO caliber. It is the main firearm currently being updated and equipped by the Republic's military and police.
Federation A is still using the previous generation M16 series. Although its rail system is outdated, it's theoretically more accurate. Yan Quan said he could hit the bullseye, which he probably achieved with an M16…
If Yan Quan had been given a different gun, he would most likely have scored above eight rings long ago.
Ha... Yan Ceyan clearly heard a faint breath coming from his throat, accompanied by an indescribable palpitation.
Eight rings... This is probably not something you can achieve by just going to the shooting range for a couple of days on a whim. Yan Quan has most likely put in a tremendous amount of hard work in shooting.
But why...?
What is the motivation?
Why would someone who once had no interest in shooting suddenly make up their mind and practice repeatedly...?
Is it to remember, or perhaps to miss?
The alternative word for "missing" is...
A vague answer gradually emerged in Yan Ceyan's mind, but his reason told him that it was absurd and laughable.
Absolutely impossible.
Yan Quan could feign innocence flawlessly, but the coldness in his heart would never change.
Yan Quan will never fall in love with anyone.
"Bang—" The gunshot whistled past again, but Yan Ceyan didn't even look into the distance to observe the point of impact...
Because the outcome is already predetermined.
Yan Ceyan knew very well that no matter how many rings Yan Quan hit, or even if he missed the target... he would still agree to the bet.
It's ridiculous, isn't it... Seven years have passed.
Actually, nothing has changed.
The bet was won the instant Yan Quan blurted it out; Yan Ceyan had conceded the victory.
At the far end of the shooting range, a vast expanse of yellow sand rose again... The target that Yan Ceyan missed seven years ago seemed to reappear clearly before his eyes.
At the same time, a mechanical electronic voice announced: "Congratulations, player! You have broken your personal best record—9 rings!"
"Look!" Yan Quan jumped up excitedly. "I knew it! I can really hit it."
"Is it a 9? Is it a 9?"
"I guess I win this time."
“Yes.” Yan Ceyan looked up and met Yan Quan’s gaze. Something was gleaming in his dark, deep eyes:
"You win."
"So, what do you want me to promise you?"
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Author's Note: I really love this chapter, that bittersweet feeling of a broken mirror mended. [droopy-eared rabbit head]
Hope you enjoy watching (hehe, you can look forward to the kissing skills training later [heart emoji])
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