The morning air was slightly cold. The curtains were not fully drawn, and light slipped in through the gap, forming a thin white line on the floor. The room was quiet, without any noise.
Guang was already awake.
He did not get up.
His gaze rested on a corner of the ceiling, unmoving.
The scenes from those days had not disappeared.
They had only been broken apart.
Rearranged.
Li Qiang stood in the middle of the aisle. Broad shoulders, a loose stance, yet his movements were direct. No probing, no hesitation. Pushing,撞ing, pinning—simple actions, yet no one stopped him.
At that moment, if their positions were exchanged.
If the one standing in the aisle had been him.
If that hand had not fallen on Chen Ming's neck, but on him instead.
What would have happened?
He ran through it in his mind.
There was no answer.
Not because he could not think of one.
But because he had no means.
He could change the outcome afterward. Through records, rules, allocation, he could make everything stop. But that was afterward. Not the present.
In that single second, he could do nothing.
This conclusion carried no emotion.
It simply existed.
He fixed this point in place.
Then he got up.
His feet touched the floor, the temperature slightly low. He stood, walked to the window, and pulled the curtain open a bit. The light increased, but it did not become warmer.
He did not stop.
He changed clothes and went out.
The air outside was even colder. He could feel the difference in temperature when breathing. He began to run.
No warm-up.
His steps landed on the ground in a steady rhythm.
At first, not fast.
He was not pursuing speed.
His breathing was somewhat heavy.
He adjusted.
Inhale.
Exhale.
The rhythm gradually stabilized.
His body began to adapt to the repetition.
He did not look into the distance.
His gaze stayed only a few meters ahead.
Steps, breathing, arm swings were pulled into a fixed cycle.
Time stretched.
When he stopped, his breathing deepened, but did not become chaotic.
He stood there.
Waiting for his breath to settle.
Not in a hurry to leave.
Just confirming the rhythm.
Then he turned and went back.
The following days did not change.
Wake up, go out, run, return.
Fixed time.
Repeated actions.
He began to record.
Writing on paper.
One line per day.
No evaluation.
No comparison.
Only writing down the time.
He looked at those lines of numbers.
Did not linger.
Put them away.
Night.
He sat at the desk.
Changed to a new sheet.
Wrote down the actions from those days.
Push.
Hit.
Pin.
Pull.
Each line contained only one action.
No explanation.
Then after each line, he wrote:
"Could it have been stopped at that moment?"
He looked through them line by line.
Not a single one was affirmative.
He did not revise.
Did not cross anything out.
Just looked.
Then turned to the next page.
Wrote again.
"At a distance of one meter, how to make the other party stop."
He paused.
Did not continue.
The page remained blank.
He put down the pen.
There was no answer to this question yet.
He knew why.
No experience.
He put the paper away.
Did not continue thinking.
The next day.
After dinner.
He sat in the living room.
Chairman Bai sat across from him.
The table was neat, a teacup releasing faint steam.
Chairman Bai glanced at him.
"Something?"
Guang nodded.
"I need training."
Chairman Bai did not respond immediately.
Looked at him.
"What aspect?"
"Close-range control."
No extra explanation.
Chairman Bai looked at him.
Paused for a moment.
"Why?"
Guang did not avoid it.
"If rules cannot be enforced, I cannot handle sudden conflicts."
His tone was steady.
Without emotion.
Chairman Bai picked up the tea.
Took a sip.
Set it down.
"What do you plan to do?"
"Find professionals."
A brief pause.
"Systematic learning."
Chairman Bai looked at him for a few seconds.
"Alright."
No further questions.
No objection.
A few days later.
Training began.
Indoor space.
The floor was covered with mats.
No decoration.
The coach stood opposite.
The first day had no movement.
Just standing.
Adjusting posture.
Foot placement.
Center of gravity.
Tension in the shoulders.
Position of the hands.
Every detail was repeatedly corrected.
Guang stood.
Did not move.
Time stretched.
A slight soreness began in his legs.
He did not change.
The coach said relax.
He removed unnecessary tension.
His body returned to balance.
The second day began contact.
His wrist was grabbed.
How to break free.
Not by force.
But by changing angles.
The direction of the joint shifted.
Force lost its support.
The other hand naturally released.
Guang repeated.
Once.
Twice.
Ten times.
The movement gradually shortened.
No redundant path.
The third day.
Angle variations.
Different positions being grabbed.
Different directions.
He began to show delay.
A few failures.
The movement did not complete.
The coach did not explain.
Just continued.
Guang tried again.
Pauses decreased.
He began to confirm a point.
Not strength.
Structure.
Joint direction.
Body center of gravity.
As long as one of these changed.
The action could not continue.
This conclusion was remembered.
Not expressed.
Training continued.
Then resistance was added.
The other side began to use force.
Movements were no longer fixed.
For the first time, Guang was pulled.
His body stepped back.
Center shifted.
But he did not fall.
He paused briefly.
Stabilized again.
Continued.
This time he found the pivot faster.
Grabbed the wrist.
Turned.
Pressed.
The other stopped.
The action ended.
The coach said it was fine.
Guang released.
Stepped back.
Said nothing.
He remembered that moment.
Not winning.
But the other party being unable to continue.
Training continued.
Movements reduced.
Paths shortened.
No extra extension.
After each session, he replayed it in his mind.
What changed just now.
Why it worked.
Where it failed.
What the reason was.
Nothing was written down.
All completed in his mind.
After a period of time.
The other attacked.
He moved.
Grabbed.
Turned.
The other stopped.
The action ended.
No continuation.
Breathing steady.
He knew it was enough.
Not everything.
But sufficient.
At least within one meter.
No longer blank.
Night.
He sat at the desk.
Did not open any book.
Just sat.
Rearranging in his mind.
Rules.
Structure.
Body.
Three layers.
Same essence.
All control.
Only different carriers.
He fixed this conclusion.
Then a new question appeared.
If the distance increases.
If the opponent does not enter contact range.
The current method is ineffective.
It needs extension.
A way that works beyond distance.
He began to filter.
Length.
Weight.
Controllability.
The results narrowed quickly.
Too complex—no.
Uncontrollable—no.
Dependent on strength—no.
Requiring long preparation—no.
Very little remained.
One of them stopped.
Sword.
Not because of attack.
But because the boundary is clear.
Distance is definite.
Path is singular.
Enter the range, there is a result.
No extra variation.
It fit his method.
He simulated it in his mind.
No need for complex technique.
Only basics.
Maintain distance.
Block paths.
Terminate approach.
Enough.
He did not extend further.
This conclusion held.
The next day.
After dinner.
He sat again across from Chairman Bai.
Chairman Bai looked at him.
"Something else?"
Guang nodded.
"I want to learn swordsmanship."
Chairman Bai looked at him.
Paused.
"Why?"
Guang said:
"To extend control range."
His tone was steady.
Chairman Bai shook his head lightly.
"You will inherit my position in the future."
His voice was not loud.
"Business is your path."
He looked at Guang.
"What use is learning the sword?"
His tone calm.
"Won't it make you more inclined to solve problems with force?"
Guang did not answer immediately.
Paused briefly.
"I will only learn the most basic defense, to interrupt approach."
No extra explanation.
Chairman Bai looked at him.
The room was quiet.
The steam from the tea had already faded.
After a while.
Chairman Bai sighed.
"You know your limits."
He said.
"Alright."
Guang nodded.
Said nothing more.
That night.
Guang returned to his room.
Did not rest immediately.
He sat at the desk.
Hands resting on the surface.
No movement.
The structure in his mind was already complete.
Close range—controllable.
Mid-range—about to be filled.
No emotion.
Just confirmation.
The light was turned off.
The room returned to silence.
No sound.