Zou Yang had noticed from the moment Lü Ze walked into the gym that he was looking for trouble. At first, the few words exchanged with Fan Jun were not entirely clear to him, but that last half-sentence — he caught every single word without missing one.

The speed at which the fire shot up was almost faster than Zou Yang’s emotions could keep up with.

If Fan Jun hadn’t stepped in between them, it would never have gotten to the card-throwing stage — Zou Yang had been heading straight for a fight.

A few seconds later, Lü Ze finally caught up with what was happening. He kicked his chair back and came out from behind the front desk: “Buying a course, are you? Come on, come on — let me see what you’re made of before you talk about buying my course…”

Fan Jun quickly reached back and pressed his hand against Lü Ze’s chest. “Don’t—”

Lü Ze swung his arm and knocked Fan Jun’s hand away.

The very next second, Fan Jun was pressing against his chest again — this time grabbing a fistful of his shirt with one hand, while spinning around to throw his other arm in front of Zou Yang. “Zou Yang—”

Zou Yang wasn’t even looking at Fan Jun’s face. His eyes were locked on Lü Ze. He raised his hand, hooked his index finger over the bridge of his glasses, and took them off.

“Stop standing there watching!” Fan Jun shouted at Liu Wenrui and the others, who had long since come over but were just standing there with crossed arms and blank expressions. “Grab him!”

“On it!” Liu Wenrui answered, immediately taking two quick steps to Zou Yang’s side and lightly patting his back. “Yang, calm down…”

Zou Yang held his glasses out toward him, and Liu Wenrui instinctively reached out and took them.

Before Li Zhiyue and Zhang Chuanlong could even get into position beside him, and while Fan Jun’s head was briefly turned toward Lü Ze, Zou Yang lunged forward — stomped hard off the ground — and vaulted himself up off Fan Jun’s shoulders.

He threw a punch straight at Lü Ze’s face.

Lü Ze lived up to his champion title. Even though Fan Jun had been blocking his line of sight and his shirt was being grabbed, he still managed to jerk his head to one side at the very last moment.

The punch aimed at his nose landed on his cheekbone instead.

But right after, Lü Ze caught Zou Yang’s wrist.

The grip was from the same school of training as Fan Jun’s, but it was clearly far more ruthless. Zou Yang twisted his wrist and realized he had no chance of breaking free.

Then Lü Ze began torquing it downward, bending his wrist toward the floor.

“Lü Ze!” Fan Jun shouted, seizing Lü Ze’s wrist. “Let go!”

Lü Ze couldn’t overpower both Fan Jun and Zou Yang at once — he couldn’t press any further down — but he didn’t release his grip either. His eyes burned with fury.

That was when Liu Wenrui and the others finally panicked for real, rushing forward trying to pull Lü Ze off.

But Lü Ze was a wall. He didn’t budge. With one sweep of his arm he sent Zhang Chuanlong stumbling backward onto the floor.

“What the—!” Zhang Chuanlong cursed from the ground.

Fan Jun clenched his teeth and, in the split second when Lü Ze was distracted dealing with Zhang Chuanlong, drove a punch into Lü Ze’s ribs.

Lü Ze sucked in a sharp breath. His grip on Zou Yang’s wrist finally went slack. Zou Yang yanked his arm upward hard and threw off his hand.

Fan Jun released Lü Ze at the same time, shoving him away and stepping back.

Lü Ze was just about to throw a follow-up punch when a figure dashed between him and Fan Jun, both hands grabbing his arms at once.

“Senior colleagues!” Tan Ru planted herself in a bow stance, bracing Lü Ze’s arms. “It’s my first day on the job — literally my first day — please don’t make things difficult for me!”

Lü Ze glared at her, jaw clenched. After holding the standoff for two seconds, he pulled his arms back.

“I’ll remember that punch.” Lü Ze pointed at Zou Yang.

“Good, remember it well,” Zou Yang looked back at him. “I threw that punch for my mom.”

“What did I do to her?! What did I even say about her?!” Lü Ze erupted at those words.

“You never said her name,” Zou Yang stared at him, “never mentioned her once. But every single line was about her. You should be the one studying Chinese linguistics.”

“Are you done with me?!” Lü Ze said, and started moving forward again.

“First day!” Tan Ru hadn’t dared to step away — she was already standing right in front of Lü Ze, blocking him with her whole body.

Zou Yang hadn’t moved forward, but Liu Wenrui and the others had been pulling at him for a while without getting him to budge.

Fan Jun turned around to face him directly, threading his arms under Zou Yang’s from below and locking around his body — then pushed him backward to the wall and braced one hand against it.

Zou Yang’s arms were pinned up. He struggled a few times but couldn’t find any leverage, and he couldn’t exactly kick Fan Jun in the crotch — so after a few seconds of standoff he finally gave up, leaning back against the wall.

“Calmed down?” Fan Jun asked, turning his face slightly, voice low.

“Yeah,” Zou Yang answered. “Satisfying.”

“If I let go and you lunge forward again,” Fan Jun said, still low, “I’ll put you on the floor.”

“Yeah.” Zou Yang tilted his head back and let his whole body relax.

Fan Jun took his bracing hand off the wall and turned back to look at Lü Ze. “Everyone cool down. Go home and rest.”

Lü Ze was silent, visibly forcing the fire down. At last he turned, pushed open the glass door, and walked out.

Li Zhiyue went to the door and peered after him. “He’s gone.”

“Holy—” Zhang Chuanlong dropped into a nearby chair. “Holy crap…”

“You’re genuinely something else,” Liu Wenrui walked up to Zou Yang and handed him his glasses. “You really… really are.”

“Hey, friend,” the student who had been hiding by the door watching — Tan Ru’s student — waved at Zou Yang. “Hey, buddy.”

“Yeah?” Zou Yang put his glasses back on and turned to look at him.

“How long have you been training?” the guy asked.

“…Five years.” Zou Yang answered casually.

“Class is over,” Tan Ru shoved the guy toward the exit. “Go on, head back. Review everything I taught you today — I’ll be checking your form next session.”

“Thanks for your hard work, Instructor Tan. You can head out too,” Fan Jun said. “I’ll clean up and lock the place.”

“Okay.” Tan Ru nodded.

After Tan Ru and the student left, everyone in the room went quiet. Fan Jun opened the mini-fridge and pulled out a few cans of cola. “Want some?”

“Yeah.” Liu Wenrui took one and passed them around, one per person.

“You guys keep playing.” Zou Yang tilted his chin toward them.

“Play? Play?” Liu Wenrui said. “I think my heart is in arrhythmia right now.”

“Go get that checked,” Zou Yang said, “before you die in the bunk above me someday.”

“You were all just standing there at the start,” Fan Jun said. “I thought you actually wanted to see him throw hands.”

“We did want to see him throw hands,” Li Zhiyue said with a sip of cola, “not gonna lie — this Instructor Lü of yours, we’ve met him twice now, and both times he’s wearing this donkey face dragging behind him for miles. I’m not a frail and delicate scholar and even I would’ve started something.”

Fan Jun sighed and picked up the bank card still sitting on the front desk. He walked over to Zou Yang.

Zou Yang was still leaning against the wall. He didn’t take the card, just looked at Fan Jun. “Buying a course.”

Fan Jun said nothing.

“Buying your course,” Zou Yang said.

Fan Jun was silent for a long moment before he finally spoke: “Use your phone to scan the code. I don’t know how to use the card reader.”

“Oh come on.” Zou Yang broke into a laugh.

Fan Jun placed the enrollment contract in front of him. “Sign it. Today’s date.”

“Yeah.” Zou Yang didn’t read a single word of the contents — just lowered his head and signed his name.

“Read the terms,” Fan Jun said.

“Not reading them,” Zou Yang said.

“So are you actually here to train,” Fan Jun asked, “or just to piss Lü Ze off?”

Zou Yang looked up at him.

“If you’re seriously training, I need to block out time in advance,” Fan Jun said.

“Seriously training,” Zou Yang said.

Fan Jun said nothing more, took the contract back, and signed his own name.

Zou Yang had always practiced calligraphy and was naturally attentive to other people’s handwriting. After Fan Jun signed, he glanced at it.

Surprisingly, Fan Jun’s handwriting was actually quite good — fluid and free-spirited.

“Did you practice calligraphy?” Zou Yang asked.

“No,” Fan Jun said.

“Your writing’s solid,” Zou Yang said, folding up his copy of the contract and slipping it into his pocket. Then he pulled out his lens cloth and wiped off the fingerprints Liu Wenrui had gotten all over his glasses.

“I want to buy a course too.” Zhang Chuanlong sidled up.

Fan Jun leaned on the front desk and glanced at him. “Instructor Tan has a boyfriend.”

“Ha—!” Liu Wenrui and Li Zhiyue erupted into laughter simultaneously.

“Shut up!” Zhang Chuanlong glared at the two of them. “That’s not why.”

“Then which instructor,” Zou Yang said, “Instructor Tie or Instructor Fan — whose course are you buying?”

“The legendary Instructor Tan,” Zhang Chuanlong said.

“May you rest in peace,” Zou Yang couldn’t hold back a laugh.

After all that commotion, there was no way to keep hanging out. The group waited for Fan Jun to put away the equipment and turn off all the lights, then they all left the gym together.

“Want me to drive your cars out to the street?” Fan Jun asked.

“No no no,” Liu Wenrui waved his hands. “It’s quiet now, I’ll be fine going slow.”

“Where’s your dog?” Zou Yang looked around. The shops on both sides were closed; the dog had been doing its rounds getting pets from the neighboring shop earlier, but was nowhere in sight now.

“Old gym,” Fan Jun said. “It was busy here today, so I had Hou’er bring him over.”

“Ah,” Zou Yang watched Liu Wenrui and the others go down the elevator, then said quietly, “Just now… sorry about that.”

“It’s fine,” Fan Jun said.

“I’ll go explain things to Uncle Lü tomorrow,” Zou Yang said.

“You don’t need to,” Fan Jun said. “He won’t tell Uncle Lü about this.”

“You didn’t—” Zou Yang replayed the scene in his mind. “You didn’t hurt him, right?”

“No.” Fan Jun lightly touched his wrist. “Put some ice on this when you get home.”

“…Please,” Zou Yang said with mild disdain. “A few seconds of that — and I need to ice it?”

---

There were two ice packs in the freezer — his mom used them for her eyes. Zou Yang took them both out.

The bravado he’d put on in front of Fan Jun was a little too much. Once he got home, he found his wrist covered in deep bruising — dark purple base with four vivid reddish-purple finger marks pressed into it, clear as anything.

He rotated his wrist. He could feel that muscle-deep pulling pain.

Damn.

A few seconds total — and the champion’s internal force really ran deep, apparently.

Zou Yang showered, then strapped both ice packs — one on top and one below — onto his wrist with an elastic bandage, flopped onto his bed, and let out a long breath. He was asleep almost before he knew it. He barely heard his mom’s call ringing before he finally noticed it.

“Hello?” He yawned and checked the time. Midnight.

“Oh, you were asleep?” His mom said. “I was afraid you’d be doing homework so I waited to call.”

“No, just dozed off,” Zou Yang switched his phone from his right to his left hand.

The ice packs on his right wrist had gone soft — so why wasn’t the pain going down even a little bit? Had the champion poisoned him somehow?

“Get to sleep early,” his mom said. “Tomorrow I’ll probably be in around noon—”

“I’m coming over tomorrow,” Zou Yang said.

“Coming where?” His mom was puzzled.

“To the gym. I signed up for classes,” Zou Yang said.

“You signed up? Why would you—” His mom sounded confused, but quickly got to the point. “Whose class did you sign up for? If it’s Lü Ze’s, see if you can switch — switch to Fan Jun’s…”

“Hmm?” Zou Yang smiled. “Lü Ze’s probably better than Fan Jun, right?”

“His temper is terrible, don’t take his class — he swears at people when he gets frustrated, that’s why he only works with experienced students who already have a foundation. Jun’er teaches carefully, and his temperament is so much better, you wouldn’t believe it,” his mom’s voice came out sounding like a frown.

“I did sign up for Fan Jun’s class,” Zou Yang said.

“Well then, that works,” his mom said. “If you’re coming, I’ll stay here then.”

“Yeah,” Zou Yang answered.

“Come eat at the old gym,” his mom said. “On weekends we can get really good fresh meat — the quality is so much better than all that unhealthy takeout.”

“Sure,” Zou Yang said, and glanced at his wrist.

Hmm… it was starting to look a little off.

---

Fan Jun looked down at Zou Yang’s wrist for a long time before looking up and saying: “Hold on.”

“What,” Zou Yang said.

“You—” Fan Jun pushed open the gym’s glass door and stepped out onto the outdoor corridor, beckoning him over. “Come here.”

The center of the shopping center was open-air. The sun was bright that day — brilliantly bright.

In that clear light, Fan Jun looked at Zou Yang’s wrist again. “Did you… ice this with boiling water?“

“Use your right ear and listen to what you just said,” Zou Yang replied.

“This looks like a burn,” Fan Jun said. “Even if Lü Ze had used all four hands, he couldn’t have done this from one grab and a twist.”

“It looked like this after I iced it,” Zou Yang also stared at his own wrist — swollen, red, with patches going pale in places. It was indeed hard to imagine this was the result of being grabbed and twisted.

“How did you ice it?” Fan Jun asked.

“Put the ice pack on my wrist, one on each side,” Zou Yang demonstrated with his hands, “then used the elastic bandage to—”

“You put the ice pack directly against your skin?” Fan Jun interrupted.

“What else would I do with it?” Zou Yang asked.

“Didn’t it hurt?” Fan Jun also asked.

“It did,” Zou Yang said, “but then I fell asleep and stopped feeling it.”

Fan Jun looked at him and said nothing.

Zou Yang also said nothing. Then after a moment, the realization finally hit him: “Oh damn — you can’t put ice directly on your skin, can you?”

“You also shouldn’t leave it on that long,” Fan Jun sighed, heading back into the gym. “Come on. Need to put something on that.”

“Frostbite cream?” Zou Yang said.

“Smart cream,” Fan Jun said.

Zou Yang didn’t have time to address Fan Jun’s insult to his intelligence — he was too busy being stunned that the gym had a tube of frostbite cream available in April.

“It’s expired, right?” Zou Yang said.

“No,” Fan Jun said, turning the tube over with genuine seriousness and squeezing a little out to smell it. “Best before twenty-four months from manufacture. Bought it last winter. Xiao Bai’s ears got frostbitten.”

“…Oh.” Zou Yang answered.

Fan Jun squeezed a dollop of ointment onto his wrist. Zou Yang carefully spread it around.

“You can’t train today,” Fan Jun said.

“Why not? If I don’t wear boxing gloves it’s fine,” Zou Yang said. “Can’t I just do legwork?”

“Fair enough,” Fan Jun nodded.

“Ten o’clock session, right?” Zou Yang checked his phone — ten minutes to go. He stood up and took off his jacket, revealing a short-sleeve T-shirt underneath.

“Put your stuff over here.” Fan Jun led him to the changing room.

The new gym was noticeably better than the old one. The old one just had two rows of lockers for clothes, with a small partition squeezed between the lockers and the wall to change behind.

The new gym’s changing room had everything — bathrooms, showers, the works.

For this first session, Fan Jun’s plan was to start by getting a sense of Zou Yang’s level.

“That way I can put together a proper training plan…” Fan Jun said.

“Kick me,” Zou Yang said, standing across from him.

“What?” Fan Jun looked at him.

Zou Yang didn’t speak — just mouthed the words again: Kick me.

“Why?” Fan Jun asked.

“To get a feel for it,” Zou Yang said.

“How hard?” Fan Jun asked.

“Hard enough that I don’t get injured,” Zou Yang said.

Fan Jun said nothing, seemingly thinking. After a long pause he finally said: “Ready.”

“Yeah.” Zou Yang nodded.

Fan Jun walked over, lifted his leg, and drove a side kick straight into his chest protector.

Zou Yang felt like he’d been hit by a car — not that he’d ever actually been hit by a car.

Without Instructor Tie there to catch him from behind, he went straight down onto the mat. It took him two seconds to get his breathing back.

“Damn,” Zou Yang rubbed his chest. “You don’t hold back at all, do you?”

Fan Jun walked over. “How are you?”

“Am I supposed to compliment you after getting kicked?” Zou Yang asked.

“How are you,” Fan Jun asked.

“Great,” Zou Yang said.