Amateur talent show? Top mentors are my students.

He Xu's original plan was to finish after shooting two sets of basic targets, since Zhuang Wenmin was handling a gun for the first time, and scoring eight or nine rings was already beyond expectations.

He leaned against the partition, took out his phone to check the time, and was about to say, "It's about time, let's pack up and leave," when Zhuang Wenmin had already removed and reinstalled the magazine herself.

The movements weren't very skilled, but the process wasn't skipped at all—ejecting the magazine, pulling the slide, checking the gun, reloading, and chambering a round.

As she raised the gun, He Xu glanced at her and asked, "Are you still going to shoot?"

"I got a nine on that shot just now," Zhuang Wenmin said without turning her head. "Not quite a ten, so I'll fire a few more shots."

He Xu put the phone back in his pocket.

In the second group, Zhuang Wenmin's bullet impact point began to move closer to the bullseye.

Eight rings, nine rings, nine rings, ten rings. With the last shot fired, the coach nodded as he pulled the target paper over: "Ten rings, a little off, but it counts as ten rings."

Zhuang Wenmin stared at the bullet hole on the target paper for two seconds, then turned to look at He Xu, her expression revealing something He Xu had almost never seen on her face before.

The aloof, habitual, and troublesome Zhuang Wenmin is gone.

The person standing at the shooting position had bright eyes, a slight upturn at the corners of his mouth, and an unusual level of excitement about him.

"One more set," she said.

The coach glanced at He Xu, who shrugged, as if to say, "You'll be like her."

After the third set, Zhuang Wenmin's wrist started to feel a little shaky.

He Xu noticed that when she raised the gun, the muzzle was slightly lower than before, and her shoulders were also more relaxed.

This is a sign that the muscles are starting to fatigue. This is a common problem for beginners who play a lot. Insufficient wrist strength leads to decreased stability when holding the gun.

"That's about it," He Xu said. "Your wrist is starting to shake."

"It's not shaking."

"Your gun barrel dropped half an inch just now, didn't you feel it?"

Zhuang Wenmin glanced at him sideways, her expression carrying a stubbornness that said, "I know what you're talking about, but I still want to hit you again."

He Xu stared at her for two seconds and realized that he was very familiar with that look—he had seen it too many times in the practice room, with the same expression on the faces of those students who were still pushing themselves to the limit even when their wrists were sore.

"One more set," Zhuang Wenmin said. "The last set."

He Xu looked at her, paused for a moment, then turned to the coach and asked, "Can we add another set?"

The coach nodded and handed over another box of bouncy balls: "Okay, but I suggest you rest after this set. Playing too many sets in a row can strain your wrist."

In the fourth group, Zhuang Wenmin was noticeably more excited than the first three groups.

Her movements were faster than before; she was more adept at pulling the slide and loading the gun, and her trigger pulls were more rhythmic.

She kept the bullet impact point between the nine and ten rings. Occasionally, she would fire an eight ring that was slightly to the right. She would frown, adjust her position, and then fire the next shot back to the nine ring.

But in the latter half of the fourth group, He Xu saw her wrist tremble slightly when she raised her gun.

The tremor was so small that it was almost imperceptible unless you looked closely.

After firing the last shot, Zhuang Wenmin put down the gun, stretched her right wrist, rotated it, and then turned to look at He Xu: "What was my score on that last shot?"

"Nine rings," He Xu said, "but your wrist can't hold on any longer. If you keep shooting, you'll either miss the target or twist it."

Zhuang Wenmin paused for a moment, glanced down at her slightly trembling wrist, and then uttered a single word with extreme restraint: "...Okay."

That "okay" sounded extremely forced. Looking at her expression, He Xu's lips twitched, and he couldn't help but say, "You seem pretty into it."

"Target practice is pretty cool." Zhuang Wenmin took off her goggles and hung them on the table. Her speech was a little faster than usual, and her tone was slightly more pronounced at the end. "There's a really satisfying feeling when you hit the bullseye, you know?"

"I understand." He Xu took her gun and handed it to the instructor, then swept the scattered shell casings on the table into the storage box. "I get carried away when I'm filming, and for a while I would practice for an extra hour every day after work."

"So, are you still going to play now?"

"There are few opportunities in China."

Zhuang Wenmin nodded, took off her earmuffs, and stretched her shoulders.

Her right shoulder was slightly higher than her left shoulder due to the repeated impact of the recoil, making her posture a little unnatural.

He Xu noticed and tilted his head to ask, "Are your shoulders sore?"

"A little." Zhuang Wenmin turned her right shoulder, her tone casual. "It's nothing, I'll be fine when we get back."

He Xu did not respond.

He carefully collected the protective gear from both of them and returned it to the front desk. After verifying their ID cards, he retrieved the gear and led Zhuang Wenmin out of the shooting range.

-

By the time the two returned to the villa, it was already dark.

Zhuang Wenmin walked in front, and He Xu followed behind carrying the canvas bag. When the two entered the house, the living room lights were already on.

Wu Jiayuan and Sun Zhuohang were snuggled on the sofa, with a pile of souvenirs from the amusement park spread out in front of them, the ugly Shiba Inu and the ugly duck placed side by side.

Jiang Yining sat at the dining table flipping through the books she had bought that day, while Lin Zhen was smashing cucumbers in the kitchen.

"You're back?" Wu Jiayuan was the first to look up, her gaze sweeping over the two of them. "How were you? Where did you two go?"

"The shooting range." Zhuang Wenmin took off her leather jacket and draped it over the armrest of the sofa, her tone flat.

The living room fell silent for a moment.

Sun Zhuohang nearly dropped the duck plush toy in his hand: "Target—shooting range?"

"The kind with guns?" Wu Jiayuan sat up straight. "Real guns?"

"Real guns." Zhuang Wenmin sat down on the sofa and stretched her right shoulder. "The kind that's on file."

Jiang Yining peeked over from beside the dining table, her expression a mix of shock and curiosity: "You two went on a date to go target practice??"

"Hmm." He Xu sat down at the other end and put his canvas bag at his feet. "She played well; the last few sets were all in the nines and tens."

Zhuang Wenmin glanced at him sideways, but didn't reply, though her lips twitched slightly.

Looking at the two sitting side by side, each more composed than the last, Wu Jiayuan couldn't help but chuckle: "You two have a way of dating that no one else can replicate."

"It was quite fun," Zhuang Wenmin said, her tone still very calm. "I'll go again next time I have the chance."

He Xu glanced at her sideways and said, "Let's talk about next time when your wrist isn't sore anymore."

"Sour as it may be, we still have to fight."

Dinner was a lively affair, with Wu Jiayuan and Sun Zhuohang recounting every plunge of the roller coaster as they ate.

Jiang Yining recounted how Lin Zhennian read essays in the bookstore as if he were reading a verdict, and Lin Zhennian pushed up her glasses twice in protest.

He Xu and Zhuang Wenmin didn't talk much, only occasionally interjecting a word or two. The atmosphere was relaxed and casual, and the group didn't leave until almost nine o'clock.

He Xu washed the dishes, wiped the table, went upstairs, and took a hot shower.

When I came out, my phone was vibrating on the bedside table, and Zhuang Jun's name was lit up on the screen.

He answered the phone, dried his hair, and sat down on the edge of the bed: "Feed."

"How was the date?" Zhuang Jun's voice was flat on the other end, and there was a faint sound of a coffee machine in the background, probably because he was working overtime in his apartment.

"good."

What does "it's alright" mean?

"It was alright." He Xu draped a towel around his neck. "Zhuang Wenmin really got into target practice. She even said she wanted to do another set when her wrists were almost too sore to lift."

There was a moment of silence on the other end of the phone, then Zhuang Jun's voice carried a subtle quality, somewhere between helplessness and understanding:

"She's been like this since she was little. She gets easily engrossed in whatever she plays. As long as she finds something interesting, she won't stop until she's completely satisfied."

"I can tell."

"Your idea of ​​taking her to the shooting range is good," Zhuang Jun said. "She doesn't usually have a wide social circle, and her work is all related to makeup and styling. If we can find something that she feels fresh and in control of, she will like it."

He Xu leaned against the headboard and switched the phone to the other end of the earpiece: "Are you praising me?"

"I'm stating the facts." Zhuang Jun's tone remained businesslike, but after a pause, he added in a slightly lower voice, "...However, you can take her out to have fun, but don't let her hurt her wrist. It'll be difficult to explain if she does."

"Aunt Zhuang," He Xu said, his tone tinged with a familiar exasperation, "are you calling to check on your sister or your artist?"

There was a two-second silence on the other end of the phone, then Zhuang Jun's voice returned to its usual flat tone: "Everyone cares."

He Xu couldn't help but chuckle.

"Alright, go to sleep early," Zhuang Jun said. "There's a meeting at the company tomorrow, just come over in the afternoon. And—don't forget to take your medicine."

"understood."

"Good night."

"Good night."