Chapter 4 — The Bias Box

The head coach signaled for me to lead the squad in simulated combat drills. During a grappling session in the mud, I executed a shoulder throw against a male trainee a full head taller than me, slamming him into the mire. Enthusiastic applause erupted around us immediately. I wiped the mud from my face, a genuine smile—the first in an entire month—breaking across my lips. This sense of stability, built solely through my own perseverance, was something I could never have grasped while I was merely a shadow standing behind Yen Chi.

Meanwhile, Yen Chi’s life had spiraled into chaos. Every day after classes, he still followed his old habit of heading to that familiar bun shop.

"Boss, give me two vegetable buns."

The owner handed him the buns, smiling as he asked, "Young man, how come your girlfriend hasn't stopped by in a while?"

Yen Chi’s hand froze in mid-air. Staring at the vegetable buns in his palms, he suddenly found them repulsive. He recalled how I used to remark that the shop’s meat buns were the best. Yet, under the guise of helping me "lose weight," he had forced me to eat nothing but vegetable buns for fourteen consecutive days. He tossed the food into a nearby trash can and turned away. Back on campus, he saw echoes of me everywhere. The library chair where I usually studied, the canteen counter I favored, the running track where I once trained—but those spots were occupied by others, the food counter was buried under long queues, and my figure never graced the track again.

Kieu Kieu still clung to him daily, using every feminine wile she possessed. "Brother Yen Chi, I want to eat the seafood fried rice from that restaurant."

Yen Chi looked at her, and for the first time, that innocent face seemed grating. "I’m busy. Go buy it yourself." He delivered the words coldly and headed back to his dormitory. Kieu Kieu stood frozen, her face drained of color. Panic began to set in; she realized the favoritism and infinite patience that once fueled Yen Chi’s gaze toward her had vanished.

After extensive inquiries, Yen Chi finally discovered I was at the provincial special training camp. He drove there and kept watch outside the gates for three days. Late on the fourth day, he finally caught sight of me. Clad in my training fatigues, my hair shorn short, and my skin bronzed to a healthy wheat tone, I was laughing with my teammates on the way to the mess hall.

"Van! Van!"

Yen Chi sprinted to the main gate, pounding heavily against the iron bars. I paused and turned to look at him. He had grown gaunt, his eyes rimmed with bloodshot veins, his chin covered in stubble; he looked wretched. The smile on my face vanished instantly, my gaze chilling until I was looking at him as one might look at a total stranger.

"Why are you here?"

I walked to the gate, staring at him through the steel mesh. Yen Chi’s eyes brimmed with tears. "Van, I’ve finally found you."

He reached out to grab my hand, but I pulled away without a shred of hesitation.

"Go home. This is no place for you."

"I’m not leaving!" Yen Chi’s voice was laced with desperation. "Van, I was wrong. I truly know I was wrong. Won’t you come back with me? I promise I’ll listen to you from now on; I won't pay any attention to Kieu Kieu ever again."

Looking at his pathetic, groveling state, I felt not even a ripple of emotion. "Yen Chi, some things, once broken, remain shattered forever."

I turned my back on him and walked toward the mess hall without looking back. Yen Chi screamed my name in despair, his voice echoing across the empty training grounds, but my footsteps never faltered.

Half a year later, the military training awards ceremony was held in the school’s grand auditorium. As an outstanding trainee from the provincial special camp, I was invited back to deliver a keynote speech. Dressed in my crisp, fitted uniform with a gleaming medal pinned to my chest, I stepped onto the dais. The room fell silent. I scanned the audience and spotted Yen Chi and Kieu Kieu sitting in the third row. Kieu Kieu’s face was deathly pale, her lips bitten raw, her eyes shimmering with raw envy and resentment. Yen Chi stared at me, his eyes swirling with complex emotions: astonishment, regret, and a profound, aching sorrow.

Ignoring them, I walked calmly to the microphone and began my speech.

"True strength is not found in relying on the favoritism of others, but in the ability to stand up for yourself from the depths of the mud."

My voice resonated throughout the hall, steady and resolute. When I finished, thunderous applause filled the room. As I stepped off the stage to head for the side exit, Yen Chi lunged forward to block my path.

"Van." His voice was raspy and raw, as if his throat were filled with broken glass. "You… you look beautiful today."

I looked at him with chilling detachment. "Move aside."

Yen Chi did not budge. He suddenly reached into his pocket and produced a delicate velvet box.