ADTCP Ch43

Tao Zhen froze in place, his heart thudding uncontrollably.

He swallowed hard, forced himself to calmly thank Zhao Zhao, then closed his phone, scrambled onto his bed, and pulled the quilt over his head.

His face grew hot, maybe from being stifled under the covers, or maybe from something else.

He knew perfectly well that what Zhao Zhao had just said was probably an excuse on Zhu Wensheng’s friend’s part, maybe even exaggerated on purpose. But still, he couldn’t help feeling happy, like gulping down a big cup of steaming sweet honey tea, warmth spreading all through him.

It took effort to calm himself down again before he could return to thinking about what to give Zhu Wensheng as a reward for his fight and as a birthday present.

If it was really as Zhao-Ge said, that besides fighting, what Zhu Wensheng liked most was him, what could he possibly give?

Or, in other words, in their relationship now, what hadn’t they done yet, that could bring them closer?

The warmth in the blanket rose to near-tropical levels, leaving Tao Zhen almost steamed alive. He finally had to poke his head out, gulping for air. Slowly, a clear thought began to take shape in his mind.

***

After the Lantern Festival on the fifteenth, once dumplings and sweet rice balls had been eaten, the New Year spirit was half gone. Everyone returned to their jobs, and students prepared for the new semester.

At Nancheng University, welcome banners for the new term hung at the gates. Fallen leaves and branches had been swept away, leaving the campus refreshed and bright, filled with pleasant air and the sound of students laughing as they passed.

But Tao Zhen couldn’t laugh.

When he returned to Nancheng, it overlapped exactly with Zhu Wensheng’s departure for Manchester. Their planes had taken off one after the other, they hadn’t even managed to see each other.

It was disappointing, but unavoidable. Zhu Wensheng had to arrive several days early to adapt to the local environment and adjust his state for the finals night. It was best he not be disturbed, his team needed to stay fully focused on the match.

Thankfully, a short video call wouldn’t count as a disturbance. After class, Tao Zhen tidied up his house that had sat empty for two months. Once he saw the time was about right, he dialed Zhu Wensheng.

“Beep… beep… beep…”

The sharp ringtone cut through the silence of the prep room. Zhu Wensheng glanced at the screen, set aside the four-liter water jug by his side, and went over to answer:
“Home already?”

“Zhenbao, how was class today?”

“…”

At the sound of “Zhenbao,” everyone nearby, coach, nutritionist, therapist, assistant, even Li Min, let out a collective sigh of relief.

Because in order to dehydrate rapidly two days before the fight, Zhu Wensheng had been controlling his diet for a week already. High protein, low fat, low salt, no carbs. Naturally, it left him irritable, depressed, and short-tempered.

Not that he ever lashed out directly, but the low-pressure aura around him made others too afraid to come near.

They had planned to endure quietly until weigh-in week. Yet they had noticed something: when “Zhenbao” called, Zhu Wensheng’s mood suddenly lifted.

So now, whenever Zhenbao’s calls came in, everyone got excited, flooding their group chat with “Savior’s here.” Some even crept up to the wall to eavesdrop, curious what this boy said that could soothe a carb-deprived fighter into transforming from a raging tiger into a tame, purring cat.

“Today I ate broccoli, greens, beef, a few cherry tomatoes.”

“Mm. Tomorrow dehydration starts.”

“It’s fine. Not too tired…”

Patiently, Zhu Wensheng answered every question. Tao Zhen’s bright, clear voice filled his ear. Even when fussing with worry, his chatter was different from anyone else’s, it never grated, only soothed.

The agitation in his chest eased. Lowering his gaze, Zhu Wensheng turned the camera as Tao Zhen requested, showing the scenery outside the hotel window.

They were staying in a chain-star hotel. There were better ones in Manchester, but this one had the best location, right in the city center, opposite a peculiar landmark building.

Tao Zhen quickly took screenshots, saved the location, then smiled, eyes curved:
“That statue outside is so funny, like a big beardless rat… is it Manchester’s mascot?”

Locals said it was, and Li Min had even bought souvenirs of it when they first arrived, planning to give them to friends. Zhu Wensheng had never cared about such things. But now he glanced at it and gave a short “Mm.”
“You like it?”

“It’s alright. Kind of cute.”

“Good.”

Every second of training was precious, so Tao Zhen didn’t dare take too long. After chatting briefly, he hung up. As the sound disappeared, the eavesdroppers scrambled back to their seats, trying to look casual, but the atmosphere was already lighter. They were sure his mood would improve after the call, and it did.

Zhu Wensheng lifted the four-liter jug, drank as he opened his phone’s search app to look up souvenir shops nearby. He even seemed ready to go out.

The assistant quickly jumped up. “Ge, just tell me what you want, I’ll go buy it. No need for you to run around.”

The coach agreed, telling him to go to the therapist soon for muscle relaxation. Zhu Wensheng hesitated, then gave up on going himself, instructing the assistant to buy every version of the big rat available.

The assistant blinked in confusion, glanced at Li Min, then noted it down. “Okay, ge… but why the sudden interest in rats?”

Zhu Wensheng: “…”

The room burst out laughing. Li Min clapped the assistant’s shoulder, mouthing exaggeratedly. The assistant quickly realized, of course it wasn’t Zhu Wensheng who liked the rat. It was whoever had just called.

“I’ll head out then. Oh, by the way, checking the calendar, the day after the match is your birthday, Ge. Should I also order a big cake for the victory party?”

Li Min’s smile froze.

She turned. The man who had just been laughing with them was now ice-cold, his hand gripping the water jug so tightly that water splashed from it. His knuckles stood out, pale and taut, as if crushing down extreme emotion.

Li Min instantly dragged the assistant out.

“Go buy the rats. What are you overthinking? I’ll come with you for another errand. You all don’t forget the therapy session. Thanks for your hard work!”

The head coach acknowledged. Nutritionist and therapist hurriedly echoed. The tension in the room only just eased. The assistant, pale, followed Li Min out, stammering, “Sorry, Sister Li, I didn’t know…”

“It’s fine, not your fault, you’re new,” Li Min sighed. “We never mention his birthday. We never prepare cakes or gifts. He won’t accept them. He doesn’t like birthdays.”

The assistant nodded quickly, though puzzled. “…Why would anyone not like birthdays?”

Because not every family was happy.

If, on the very day you were supposed to celebrate, your father’s mistress stormed in, driving your mother nearly mad… and then you were beaten, accused, abandoned… anyone would be scarred, unable to ever feel joy for a birthday.

Li Min’s lips moved, but in the end, she didn’t say it. With a weary sigh, she only said:
“…You wouldn’t understand. Just don’t bring it up. Don’t remind him that day.”

The assistant nodded, uneasy, and hurried off to buy the souvenirs as redemption. Li Min had only come to warn him, not truly intending to shop. She headed toward a café for a rest.

But just as she reached the entrance, before she could sit down, her phone buzzed with a call from an unfamiliar number.

The IP address read: Xuancheng.

Her eyes narrowed slightly. A guess flashed through her mind. She tapped her finger against the table, then answered:

“Hello?”

A clear, youthful voice rang out:
“Hello, Boss Li! I’m Tao Zhen. Sorry to bother you at this time, but I wanted to discuss something with you…”

Her hunch was right. Li Min’s chest tightened slightly. After listening to what Tao Zhen said, she pressed her lips together, and only after a long pause did she reply:

“You’re not bothering us. If it’s to support him, then there’s no problem… but, ”

The boy on the other end of the line answered happily with an “Mm,” holding his breath and waiting for her next words.

Li Min hesitated. Thinking of the unprecedented way Zhu Wensheng had behaved when talking to him, she resisted the urge to add extra warnings and only said, lightly and noncommittally,

“…Going back and forth yourself may take a lot of time.”

“Ah, it’s fine!” The boy didn’t seem to expect her to worry about him and replied cheerfully, “Thank you, Boss Li. I’ll hang up now!”

Two beeps, and the call ended.

Li Min found an empty seat, gripped her phone, and thought for a long while before letting out a long sigh and rubbing her brow.

Maybe Tao Zhen didn’t know when Zhu Wensheng’s birthday was. If she brought it up, it might touch a nerve, better not to remind him.

As for the birthday issue, Li Min didn’t expect Tao Zhen to change anything about Zhu Wensheng.

He might be special to Zhu Wensheng, but in a relationship like this “kept” arrangement, how special could it be?

To put it melodramatically: the deepest wounds of the heart aren’t places others can touch so easily.

***

The week before a match is sheer torment for a fighter, like marching to a battlefield, or to an execution. Luckily, as finals night drew near, the painful preparation finally approached its end.

On the second-to-last day, Zhu Wensheng began dehydrating.
Over the course of the day, he would force as much water as possible out of his body in various ways to hit the ideal number on the scale.
The hotel’s heat was on; most people wore just a light layer or two. He, wrapped in a sweat suit, steamed in the sauna, rode the bike, training from morning till night. By the end, his clothes could be wrung out, water dripping. Under everyone’s anxious stares, he stepped on the scale, setting their pounding hearts racing.

At last, the number jumped to the target. People leaned in, holding their breath.

Made weight, success!

A cheer went up, but Zhu Wensheng remained unusually calm, barely a smile on his face, quietly taking the oxygen tank to recover.

There were less than eighteen hours left before fight night; he had to rehydrate quickly and return to peak condition.

This period was crucial. After the initial excitement, everyone focused together on logistics and recovery.

The little assistant, rattled by his mistake two days ago, dared not say more than two words to Zhu Wensheng. Each time he set something down, he bolted like a rabbit. The coach kept nagging, bickering with the nutritionist over portions, until Li Min cut in and shoved the meal box toward Zhu Wensheng:

“Enough, enough, what’s the arguing for? Let Ah-Sheng judge based on how he feels… Ah-Sheng, eat up, okay?”

For some reason her tone carried a hint of probing.

Zhu Wensheng paused, but didn’t dwell on it. He took the towel from the table to wipe sweat, then opened the meal.

Inside was a balanced, nutritious spread, clearly the nutrition team’s work. Yet as he lifted his chopsticks, his mood felt oddly softened. He flipped the lid over.

Unlike the usual stark white “hospital food” boxes, this lid had pretty little flowers printed on it.
A bit gaudy, yet it felt warm and homey, unknowingly easing his pre-fight anxiety.

He stared at the lunchbox for a second, then looked up at Li Min. “Who prepared this?”

She hadn’t expected the question and froze, eyes flicking away as she casually tucked a strand of hair behind her ear.

“Who else? You think I paid a team to sit around and do nothing? Of course they prepared it… Eat up, you’ve got a lot to do after.”

He lifted his eyes at her; a ripple stirred in the dark pupils.

After a moment’s silence, he let it go and ate quietly.

Seeing this, Li Min finally exhaled. A moment later, she wandered to the corner and casually raised her phone to take a picture.

Click.

No sooner had she pressed the shutter than she saw, through the screen, Zhu Wensheng stand and walk straight toward her.

Her hand trembled; she feigned calm, swiping to a chat with her best friend and arching a brow at the black-haired man. “What is it?”

He lowered his gaze to the flawless phone screen in her hand and finally said, “Nothing.”

She smiled, patted his shoulder, and sauntered off.

He dropped his gaze in thought, tugged the towel from his neck to wipe sweat, and the pattern caught his eye.

Pretty little florals, warm yellow, pink, pale blue, interwoven like a dream-garden. Totally out of place in the club. It looked more like…

In a flash, light broke through.

His heartbeat quickened. He pulled out his phone, found the pinned contact, and started a video call.

Beep… beep… beep… once, twice, thrice, maybe just seconds, maybe an eternity, and the boy on the other end hung up.

A dozen guesses streaked through his mind; his breathing sped up.

His Adam’s apple bobbed. He opened their chat and typed “Where are you?”, just as a surreptitiously filmed video came in.

On the podium, a teacher droned on. Around him, classmates dozed.

Tao Zhen was wedged among them, hunched low, carefully recording a clip just for him.

【Sorry, Ah-Sheng, I’m in class. There are people around, I can’t step out to answer QAQ】

【Was there something important you needed to call about?】

Thud,

The heart that had been lodged in his throat dropped back into place. But he didn’t feel relieved, if anything, a vague disappointment welled up.

He couldn’t say why. After a few beats he replied:
【Nothing, just wanted to call you.】

【Keep focusing on class. Don’t forget to eat. I’ll get back to work.】

Usually, Tao Zhen would chirp back a few lines. This time, his reply was brisk:
【Mm-hmm, okay.】

Perhaps dulled by that wordless disappointment, Zhu Wensheng, who would normally catch the subtlest shift in Tao Zhen’s tone, only lowered his eyes, put his phone away, and forced himself to focus on recovery.

February 28th, fight night.

The crowd filed in, a storm of noise rising. The heat blasted, making the throng flush and restless. Around them, near-total darkness, only the grids of spotlights blazing overhead.
At center, a huge octagonal cage, the canvas spotless and bright. Staff jogged to and fro.

The broadcast was live. Commentators sat ready and greeted the viewers:

“Good evening, everyone. Welcome to the Vanguard Combat Championship, VCC, live from the arena…”

After a brief intro, they fell silent for the in-cage announcer:

“Ladies and gentlemen, this bout is a co-main event this evening, sponsored by Youth Power Energy Drink. Your judges at cageside: Li Liang, Alvin Osborne, and Angelina Potts. Your referee in charge inside the cage: Jeff Korger, ”

As the words fell, the stands were washed in a deep-sea blue. Lights flickered; LED strips flared, pushing the atmosphere to a peak.

“Now! Five rounds for the VCC Lightweight Championship!” The camera swung to a dark-complexioned, plain-faced man with cords of muscle. “Introducing first, fighting out of the blue corner, a mixed martial artist with a professional record of…”

His opponent: the Siamese Leopard.

He adjusted his mouthguard, turned, and pumped his fists to the crowd. As the cheers rose, he turned back, ambition sharp in his eyes, a hint of provocation, staring at Zhu Wensheng.

“And now his opponent, ”

Expression calm, Zhu Wensheng adjusted his open-finger gloves.

He’d clipped his hair short the night before. His sharp brows and eyes were unobscured, handsome to the point of severity, with a deeper shadowed edge.

The cheers swelled. Referee Jeff called them to the center, reviewed the rules, had them touch gloves, and sent them back. The bell rang; online commentators dove in.
Most MMA bouts are three rounds, but title fights run five, a higher bar for both fighters.

Five-minute round, begin!

A brief feeling-out. Siamese Leopard struck first with a right; Zhu Wensheng blocked with his left. The Leopard feinted, shot for a body lock, Zhu Wensheng stuffed it. Zhu Wensheng chopped low, trying to drag it to the mat; the Leopard tumbled but scrambled out with strong counters.

Corners shouted nonstop. The first ended without a finish, Zhu Wensheng ahead, but not by much.

After a short reset, Round 2, Leopard came out mean, taking the lead.

Round 3, Zhu Wensheng kept his cool: body lock, back take, momentum swung.

Round 4, Zhu Wensheng stayed steady, keeping the Leopard pinned on the ground, nearly forcing a KO. The Leopard’s face reddened; he lashed back and, right at the end, hammered Zhu Wensheng’s old forearm injury. Once, twice, three times!

That spot had been fractured before. The weakest point on Zhu Wensheng’s body.

Sixty-second break. Zhu Wensheng stepped back, forcing his trembling arm to still.
The team and therapist swarmed him, Vaseline, mouthguard, rapid fixes, but he avoided their hands and rasped, “I’ll do it.”

“Fine, do it yourself,” the coach rattled on. “They’ve spotted the arm, expect them to target it. Remember to avoid as much as possible. Your edge is on the ground, but his counters there are nasty. If you can’t force it, keep it standing. His left hand’s weak, hook him left…”
Others chimed in: “Yeah, your ground game hasn’t fully come out yet. Don’t just brute-force it. He’s insanely durable. You are better, but now, ”

Zhu Wensheng set down the electrolyte bottle. In his calm face there was a trace of reckless madness; adrenaline spiked. His lowered arm trembled faintly, pain gone numb.

He looked as composed as ever, but Li Min couldn’t stand it anymore. She shut her eyes, then snapped at the noisy crowd: “Quiet, all of you!”

Silence fell a notch. She handed him the floral towel. “Believe in yourself.”

Ten seconds to the final bell.

Adrenaline. Pain. Wildness. Blood. Cheers. Blinding light.

The world roared; his opponent seemed to grin.

Zhu Wensheng stared at the towel for a heartbeat. Something trembled at the tip of his heart; he lifted his gaze to Li Min.

She pressed her lips together and said solemnly, “Do it for yourself, and for those who believe in you, who like you.”

“You can do it.”

Everything seemed to drop into slow motion. In that instant, like a thread tugged between hearts, Zhu Wensheng turned his face aside.

Darkness around him, the clamor of the stands, all faded to zero. Only one thing remained: the golden-haired boy, not far away, shouting himself hoarse for him.