Because the competition was about to begin, Chen Zemian did not continue to be angry with Lu Zhuonian. With the enemy at hand, he understood which was more important.
It didn’t matter that Lu Zhuonian explained himself for a long time afterward; Chen Zemian was magnanimous. He forgave Lu Zhuonian and accepted the six million reluctantly.
“If you do this again in the future, I will ignore you,” Chen Zemian threatened. “I talk to you about feelings, but you talk to me about money.”
Lu Zhuonian responded, “I am willing to talk to you about feelings.”
Chen Zemian paused, speechless.
Some words, when spoken, seemed normal; yet, when Lu Zhuonian said them, they sounded strangely out of place. Perhaps it was because Lu Zhuonian was more concerned with interests and less loyal, making his words less credible. Nevertheless, Chen Zemian didn’t care. The two of them tacitly avoided the controversial topic and walked side by side toward the shooting range.
News of Lu Zhuonian accepting Lloyd’s challenge—the son of the gun god—spread quickly throughout the shooting circle. However, due to Liu Yuebo’s tricky tactics, when Lu Zhuonian and Lloyd first faced off, no one paid much attention.
Just like the story of “The Boy Who Cried Wolf,” athletes and coaches from other countries gradually overcame their psychological shadows. When they heard Lloyd had arranged another entertainment match, they all dismissed it, thinking, “Don’t care,” fearing they might be deceived into watching a meaningless game and wasting valuable training time.
Before the official match, it was necessary to tend to the burn on Lu Zhuonian’s hand. After removing the bandage from his right hand, the wound had already scabbed over. However, today, wearing gloves caused it to fester slightly—an unsettling sight.
It looked painful. Chen Zemian carefully wiped away the extravasated tissue fluid with a cotton swab, then lowered his head to blow gently on the wound.
Lu Zhuonian shook his wrist, as if subconsciously wanting to pull his hand away. Still, he held back, not hiding his discomfort.
“Don’t move,” Chen Zemian said softly, gripping Lu Zhuonian’s palm. Not only did he not let go, but he also pulled the hand forward again and continued to apply medicine. “Blow on it to dry faster. It’s almost healed now. If you keep it stuffy, it’s easy to get inflamed.”
From Lu Zhuonian’s perspective, he could see Chen Zemian’s drooping eyelashes and furrowed brows. For no apparent reason, Lu Zhuonian let out a slight “hiss,” as if in pain. Yet, in truth, the wound didn’t hurt—only numbness and a bit of cold.
Chen Zemian had no idea that Lu Zhuonian had so many little thoughts. Hearing the inhale, he thought perhaps he had hurt him with his rough hands. His eyebrows furrowed even more as he blew two more breaths onto the wound, repeatedly insisting, “It doesn’t hurt.”
Lu Zhuonian’s Adam’s apple moved as he said, “It’s okay.”
Chen Zemian applied growth factor gel to the wound, then looked up at Lu Zhuonian. “Do I need to wear your broken gloves?”
Lu Zhuonian replied calmly, “Lloyd is an excellent marksman and excels in various shooting competitions. If he knew my right hand was injured, he would deliberately choose events requiring coordination of both hands, and I would lose.”
Chen Zemian took the bandage, adjusting it several times before saying, “Honestly, if I lose, I lose. It doesn’t matter if I don’t compete.”
“Lloyd disrespected the Chinese coach at the World Championships and grew even more arrogant after winning gold. It’s time to teach him a lesson,” Lu Zhuonian said, placing the bandage in Chen Zemian’s hand. “He happens to be coming to China this time. If he doesn’t ask me out, I will.”
At this point, Chen Zemian understood that Lu Zhuonian was determined to fight this battle. He stopped trying to dissuade him. He untied the bandage and wrapped the wound tightly with his handbag. “The leather gloves are so thin. If you don’t want anyone to see the bandages underneath, you’ll have to tie them tightly.”
Lu Zhuonian nodded in agreement.
Chen Zemian then covered the wound with gauze, wrapped it with three layers of bandages to secure it, and helped Lu Zhuonian put on his gloves.
In that moment, Chen Zemian felt like a close servant preparing for his general’s expedition—hoping sincerely for victory and to prevent him from getting hurt. Though he had initially despised the idea of being a lackey, he had inadvertently become a male servant. Life, after all, was full of surprises.
He found this amusing and couldn’t help but chuckle. Lu Zhuonian, noticing the smile, asked what he was laughing at. Chen Zemian told him the truth.
It was just a joke, but after hearing it, Lu Zhuonian was silent for a few seconds before telling him not to overthink.
“???”
Sometimes, Chen Zemian couldn’t quite understand what Lu Zhuonian was talking about.
Lu Zhuonian appeared aloof and noble on the surface. Yet, once you got to know him, you would see that he also had his own abstract side.
In the shooting range, Lloyd had already arrived. Seeing Lu Zhuonian enter, he flashed a surprised expression and opened his arms to greet him, speaking in English: “Nian, you’re such a busy man. It’s so hard to see you!”
Lu Zhuonian clearly didn’t want to hug Lloyd. Instead, he raised his hand to bump fists with him. “You’ve come a long way. Thank you for your hard work.”
“Are you still that germophobic?” Lloyd chuckled. “It’s not hard, just boring. So many athletes and coaches came, but no one knows guns, and I couldn’t find you. So, I just play with the targets every day.”
He then casually gestured to the ring target, which nearly broke the ten-ring area.
Chen Zemian watched silently.
This guy was really good at pretending; no wonder Lu Zhuonian said he would accept the challenge.
Lu Zhuonian paid no heed to Lloyd’s boasting. He simply opened the gun case, revealing a variety of neatly arranged firearms, and asked, “What do you want to shoot today?”
Lloyd took out an AWP sniper rifle. “Moving targets? Do you have live moving targets here?”
When the 50-meter moving target event was first introduced, the World Championships used live animals as targets—such as running deer, musk deer, roe deer, and pigs. Later, this was replaced with a black heart ring target with two bull’s eyes and a round black dot.
Although live targets were phased out early in official competitions, they still remain popular in private ranges abroad, which sometimes provide animals like rabbits, pigeons, and musk deer for shooting practice.
Lu Zhuonian’s range, however, did not have these.
Lloyd asked knowingly, “Really? The circular targets are worn out. Running deer and roe deer targets are more fun, and they’re not new. Since you collect military guns, it shouldn’t be hard to get a few animals.”
Lu Zhuonian glanced at Lloyd and said, “Those are protected animals. Do you want to illegally export them back to Country L?”
“I don’t believe it’s that serious,” Lloyd said with a nonchalant smile before turning to Chen Zemian. “Nian is too conservative. Tell me—where can I find these ‘protected animals’? I’ll get some to play with.”
Chen Zemian answered straightforwardly, “Take the subway after leaving the shooting range, transfer to Line 4, and get off at Beijing Zoo. There are plenty of animals there, including red-crowned cranes and giant pandas.”
Lloyd was silenced by Chen Zemian’s honest reply. He waved to a team member, saying, “Then let him hold the target.”
It was clear this wasn’t the first time the team member had been Lloyd’s target. He skillfully held up the black heart-shaped target with a black dot and walked back confidently.
The staff immediately intervened, stopping the team member in his tracks. Meanwhile, the referee, with a calm but firm voice, addressed Lloyd in English: “This is not allowed, Mr. Lloyd. The rules of the competition stipulate that even if you practice with an empty gun, you may only do so at designated locations. Furthermore, you must put down your gun whenever there are people in front of you.”
Lloyd, unfazed, shrugged dismissively. “I believe in Nian’s gun skills, and this isn’t a formal competition,” he said casually, brushing off the rule with two words. Then, turning to Lu Zhuonian, he proposed with a grin: “For fairness, my teammates will hold the target for you. In return, you pick one of your people to hold the target for me. How about it?”
Without waiting for Lu Zhuonian’s response, Lloyd raised his hand and gestured toward the crowd. His finger finally landed on Chen Zemian. “Let’s choose him—what do you say?”
Chen Zemian smiled quietly. It was hardly a surprise.
No wonder, in the original story, Lloyd often served as the background character—merely a foil for Lu Zhuonian’s spectacular marksmanship. Lloyd embodies all the traits of a typical supporting antagonist: arrogant, conceited, vindictive.
Chen Zemian had just said something to him, yet Lloyd was already eager to retaliate elsewhere. He claimed he would find someone to hold the target for him, but if Chen Zemian actually did that, Lloyd would undoubtedly wait for an opportunity to tease him during the shooting, or worse, find ways to embarrass him publicly.
Such a supporting role—annoying enough—would never garner sympathy, even if he lost a hundred times. People would simply think he deserved it, that he was stubborn and deserved to be humiliated.
Next, as per convention, it was the protagonist’s turn to step forward—domineering and protective, ready to defend his little brother and slap the supporting role in the face.
Chen Zemian cast a hopeful glance at Lu Zhuonian, expecting him to act.
Sure enough, Lu Zhuonian’s eyes darkened. “Lloyd, how you play in Country L is your business. Here, I have never used living targets before. If you insist on doing so, I won’t be as welcoming as you think. Please, do as you please.”
Lloyd’s smile faltered for a moment, then quickly resumed. “Okay, okay. It’s just a joke. Why take it so seriously? Hey, you Chinese have so many rules. As guests, we should follow the host’s wishes and play our way.”
On the surface, his words seemed casual and generous, but underneath, they carried a sharp, cunning edge. While Lu Zhuonian upheld the strict rules of international competition, Lloyd’s words twisted them into his own narrative—making others feel uncomfortable.
If someone else had spoken like this, perhaps Lu Zhuonian would have explained himself. But he, steadfast in his principles, would never fall into the trap of self-justification.
He nodded slightly. “Of course. When you come to me, you must follow my rules. If you want to play your way, wait until I lose to you and challenge you back in Country L. Then we’ll see.”
Chen Zemian secretly thought this was wise. Lu Zhuonian was usually polite, but when he turned venomous, he was like someone who had ingested two kilograms of poison. Anyone attempting to use words to poison him would have been sorely mistaken.
In competitions, strength speaks. Since Lloyd had already mentioned the last game’s outcome, there was little more to say.
The first game was rifle shooting, at a distance of fifty meters, with sixty rounds fired consecutively.
Chen Zemian worried about Lu Zhuonian’s hand. Rifle shooting demanded a steady grip with both hands, and the movements had to be highly consistent. Additionally, the contest was lengthy—an endurance test, especially for Lu Zhuonian’s unhealed hand.
His hand was injured, and when he held his palm, the skin on the back of his hand would inevitably pull, causing the scab to crack and making it unbearable. This, undoubtedly, would impair his stability and precision.
During practice, Lu Zhuonian attempted to pull the trigger with his left hand. After two shots, he found the result unsatisfactory—his dominant hand was still more dependable. Consequently, he decided to shoot with his right hand, despite the pain it might cause to the wound.
Once the game began, Chen Zemian kept a close watch on the field.
Lu Zhuonian was undeniably a master of guns. Despite the nearly unfavorable conditions, he maintained his skill and astonishing accuracy. Both competitors were top-tier, and their scores in the first half were very close.
However, perhaps due to discomfort in his right hand, Lu Zhuonian’s shooting speed increased noticeably after the halfway mark.
By the 45th shot, Lloyd had completed all his rounds and left the field early.
As the game progressed, more spectators—coaches and athletes from various countries—gathered to watch. They were all surprised to see Lu Zhuonian finish early. Whispering filled the arena, and soon, a ripple of excitement erupted among the onlookers.
In Chen Zemian’s eyes, Lu Zhuonian’s swift completion of the last ten shots was understandable. But in the eyes of others, it seemed deliberate—like he was determined to win and was eager to leave the battlefield early.
Lloyd’s expression darkened. Although the length of the game wasn’t part of the scoring criteria, it was akin to submitting an exam paper early—unfairly influencing the mood of the competitors.
The scene was filled with top shooters from across the globe, all watching intently. Lu Zhuonian’s movements, fluid and effortless, had already put him in the spotlight. It was clear he had done this intentionally.
Lloyd clenched his teeth, inhaled deeply, and tried to focus on the game, refusing to let external distractions influence him.
Chen Zemian was convinced that Lu Zhuonian’s early finish wasn’t meant to rattle Lloyd. Instead, he thought it was simply because Lu Zhuonian’s wound was bothering him.
In the final shots, Lu Zhuonian scored two nines and one eight, out of ten. His initial fifty shots—with so many mistakes—couldn’t compare to this.
“My hand hurts,” Lu Zhuonian muttered as he left the shooting range, without even asking about his results.
Almost immediately, Lloyd took another shot. Chen Zemian, preoccupied with counting rings, failed to notice Lu Zhuonian’s discomfort in time.
Lu Zhuonian’s face darkened slightly, a flicker of regret crossing his mind for leaving the range so early.
He had finished his shots ahead of schedule. Yet, instead of gaining recognition and praise, he had lost Chen Zemian’s attention.
If he remained on the shooting range, Chen Zemian would have only cared about his performance, not how many rings Lloyd scored—yet now, even that was gone.
Lu Zhuonian twirled his fingers lightly, then impulsively wanted to raise his arm and cover Chen Zemian’s eyes with his palm.
Suddenly, a gunshot rang out—Lloyd had hit the center of the bull’s eye, scoring a perfect 10.9 rings.
The crowd erupted in exclamations.
If he could maintain this streak, he might even score another perfect ring.
Lloyd had just achieved two perfect scores in a row, widening his lead. Meanwhile, Lu Zhuonian’s next shots would determine whether he could catch up. His advantage was shrinking—one less eight-ring shot from Lloyd could seal the victory.
The next shot was crucial.
Chen Zemian clutched the railing in front of him, leaning forward anxiously.
Lloyd subtly hooked his finger and pulled the trigger again.
Another shot echoed through the arena.
Just as Chen Zemian was about to check the results, a hand suddenly appeared—blocking his view of his eyes.
*****
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Author: LazyHermitGal
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