Chapter 29 — Martial Competition (2)

The interval only lasted ten minutes, so both fighters were still visibly tired. Guo Mingzhe may have physically recovered from the final strike, but his breathing was still quite laboured.

The referee dropped his hand and the fight started immediately.

Zichen, seemingly wanting to take advantage of his opponent’s breathlessness, immediately shot forwards like a bullet, aiming straight towards Mingzhe’s lungs. Guo Mingzhe hurriedly stepped sideways, just about managing to not trip over his feet, and dodged the attack.

Both were in range of each other, and both were wary of this fact.

Mingzhe should have had the upper hand, having dodged an attack and now with the option to strike Yang Zichen who was still moving with the inertia of his failed strike. But something changed.

Every instinct he had as a martial artist was warning him not to get any closer.

His gut feeling hadn’t failed him before, so Mingzhe retreated backwards, buying more time to recover his breath. Yang Zichen pivoted off his front foot and rotated himself to face Mingzhe once again, giving him a smirk as the two made eye contact.

Yang Zichen drove his weight into the stage arena, sweeping along the edges of the chalk circle denoting the boundaries of their fight. Some of the powder rose up with this motion like a smoke bomb, albeit quite a terrible one.

Zichen clenched his foot and charged ahead once again.

This time, Mingzhe had no way out, as he found himself near the corner boundary once again. He had to act fast — he could either jump above since Zichen ducked low to charge, or somehow attempt to slide through between his legs.

Guo Mingzhe jumped.

He forced his palms down on Zichen’s back to further his leap into the air and in an attempt to push him out of bounds, but Zichen did not falter. Instead, as Guo Mingzhe was still mid-air, a foot launched backwards and slammed him in the chin.

Yang Zichen unclenched his foot, and chalk dust found its way up Mingzhe’s nostrils, causing him to cough and sneeze, preventing him from finding his footing.

A fist drove into Mingzhe’s stomach.

His torso folded around the impact and his knees gave way.

Mingzhe fell, and Zichen won.

The crowd went silent, and the referee barely registered what had just happened. He raised his arm and announced the winner of today’s matches: Yang Zichen.

Xu Fang sat in the sponsor booth with his unfinished drink in his hand and punched the railing. “Second place. He got so so close.”

“He was,” said Lin Che. “He really was excellent.”

“The winner gets the sponsor meeting?”

“Yeah, he’ll be up soon.”

Xu Fang looked at the platform where Mingzhe was being announced as the runner up, much to the crowd’s applause. “I’ll text him afterwards. Tell him to come find us when he’s out.” He paused. “He’ll be disappointed, but he won’t show it. He never does.”

***

Around fifteen minutes later, the man with the lanyard entered the booth and announced that the winner was ready to come up. Lin Che straightened in his chair and fixed his face into a neutral position, having prepared himself for this meeting.

Zichen came through the door.

He was in the same composed state he had during the bout against Mingzhe, which caused a couple of Lin Che’s hairs to raise, but he understood that this man was not there to attack him. Zichen blinked for a split second longer than usual upon recognising Lin Che’s face in front of him.

“Lin Chen,” he said, managing a wry smile.

“Zichen!” Lin Che stood and shook his hand, returning a toothy grin. “Good fight. I told my friend here you were one of the best I’d seen.” He turned to Xu Fang. “Xu Fang. Yang Zichen.”

“You two know each other?” asked Xu Fang.

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“Through my wife,” replied Lin Che. “Zichen has worked with the Shen family for a while. We’ve run into each other a few times.” His eyes moved towards Zichen, motioning a Xu Fang doesn’t know anything, please keep up, and hoping that the message made it through.

Zichen kept up without effort. “Small city,” he said pleasantly.

“Very small indeed. Xu Fang’s friend was the runner up.”

“Ah, he’s a very good fighter. I wasn’t quite sure I could defeat him with martial arts alone.” Yang Zichen shot Lin Che a wink. “But the chalk helped quite a lot.”

Xu Fang scratched his head as though he were being praised rather than his friend. “He’s been doing it since he was ten,” he said. “Did you train together anywhere or—”

“Actually,” said Zichen, turning to Xu Fang. “I’d love to hear more about him. I try to connect with serious competitors when I can. Would you mind—” He gestured outside of the booth. “I have a couple of questions that are probably boring for someone who isn’t in the circuit.”

Xu Fang, who was incapable of refusing an opportunity to brag about his friends, spared no moment in taking up Zichen on his offer.

Lin Che watched them both leave the booth, before the door opened again and Mingzhe came in.

***

“You’re the sponsor?” he asked, looking Lin Che up and down in surprise.