Chapter Thirty-Six: The Shooting Contest

Yuan Xiaoying kicked Liu Jingye out of the car, then started the engine herself, driving slowly down the road, sulking in silence.

“Hey, what kind of secret mission are you on, exactly?” Liu Jingye, bored and curious, asked, “If it’s really a secret mission, why are you driving a police car? Isn’t that just warning the bad guys?”

“Uh…” Yuan Xiaoying was momentarily speechless. In truth, this was her first time driving a police car alone—she’d only taken it out to show off in front of Liu Jingye. She hadn’t considered that it might compromise her mission.

Still, she stubbornly retorted, “How the police do things is none of your business.”

Liu Jingye shrugged. “Alright then, next time you run a red light, I won’t say a word.”

“What? Just now, did I…” Yuan Xiaoying hurriedly checked the rearview mirror. She’d just passed an intersection, and the light was still red.

Fuming, she realized she’d been so preoccupied with her own thoughts that she hadn’t even looked at the traffic lights. That damned guy always managed to leave her distracted and unsettled.

Before long, she drove into a neighboring village, which was next to Liu Jingye’s own. Due to roadworks, the village had been split in two, and most residents had already moved out—the land taken over by various businessmen.

There were a few farmhouse restaurants in the village, but Yuan Xiaoying’s destination was a “shooting club.”

Liu Jingye was familiar with the place. Besides indoor shooting ranges, they had a large outdoor field for war games, simulating CS matches. The business was booming.

Curious, Liu Jingye followed her inside. The club was spacious, divided into several ranges: pistol rapid-fire, moving targets, fifty-meter rifles, skeet shooting, and so on. Most of the guns were competition-grade, but some were realistic replicas.

“Today, I’ll show you what I’m made of,” Yuan Xiaoying said as she finished the paperwork, leading Liu Jingye to the range.

She had invited him today specifically to show him a different side of herself—a modern woman, independent, strong, and capable.

She didn’t know exactly why she wanted to do this; it was as if she were a schoolgirl, trying hard to impress the boy she liked. But she couldn’t help herself—she wanted him to see her in a new light.

Yuan Xiaoying headed for the pistol range. The guns here were all realistic replicas, legally registered with the police department. There was a wide variety: revolvers, Type 64, Type 77, Browning, even a Desert Eagle.

“Well? Interested? How about a match?” Yuan Xiaoying said provocatively—not only did she want to show off, she wanted to beat him.

Liu Jingye looked at the guns in the case and gave a wry smile. “Are these toys really all that fun?”

“Toys?” Yuan Xiaoying scoffed. “These are one-to-one replicas, just like the real thing. If you don’t know how to use them, just say so—don’t try to act cool.”

Liu Jingye casually picked up a pistol. It was indeed heavy, almost indistinguishable from the real thing. He aimed it experimentally; the sights were proper. These things were supposed to be strictly regulated—clearly, the club’s owner had some connections.

“Have you chosen?” Yuan Xiaoying asked impatiently. “Once you have, let’s have a match.”

“What’s at stake?” Liu Jingye asked.

“The loser has to submit!” Yuan Xiaoying declared boldly. “Obey every order from the winner, without question.”

“That’s pretty high stakes,” Liu Jingye said with a wry smile.

“What, are you scared? You call yourself a man?” Yuan Xiaoying challenged.

“Any order at all?” Liu Jingye asked. “Even… in the bedroom?”

“In your dreams! I’d never ask for that,” Yuan Xiaoying replied, as if her victory was a foregone conclusion.

“What if I win?”

“That’s impossible…” Yuan Xiaoying’s confidence was unwavering. “But if you really do win, then… I’ll submit too!”

“Let’s do this!”

Eagerly, Yuan Xiaoying chose a Type 92, the standard police sidearm in big cities. Fifteen rounds—she was familiar with it. Loading the magazine, racking the slide, she completed every motion with smooth, practiced ease, even glancing provocatively at Liu Jingye when she finished.

Liu Jingye, meanwhile, picked a Type 64 at random—they were all just toys to him.

“Ten rounds each. Whoever scores higher wins,” Yuan Xiaoying declared.

She’d barely finished speaking when a loud bang erupted—Liu Jingye had already fired.

“Hey! What do you think you’re doing?” Yuan Xiaoying yelled, jumping in shock.

Liu Jingye scratched his head. “Isn’t this a shooting match?”

“You just pick up the gun and shoot?” Yuan Xiaoying shouted.

“What, am I supposed to rack it a couple times first?”

“Pervert!” Yuan Xiaoying shot him a glare. “Aren’t you supposed to check if the safety’s off, if the bullets are loaded properly?”

“Hmph…” Liu Jingye sneered inwardly. “This girl’s had too much formal training. If you spend all that time checking, the enemy would have shot you full of holes already.”

But outwardly, he played dumb. “It’s my first time—I’m not sure what to do. But didn’t it work just now?”

“That was pure dumb luck,” Yuan Xiaoying scolded. “If you don’t check properly, what if the gun misfires? What if you hurt someone?”

She snatched the pistol from his hand, inspecting it like a drill sergeant before handing it back.

“Alright, let’s go,” Yuan Xiaoying said. She focused intently on the fifty-meter target, taking on the air of a master, calm and composed, channeling all her energy into the task.

Liu Jingye watched curiously. Suddenly, she shouted aloud, ejected the magazine, then called out to herself, “Ready, load, grip, aim, fire…”

Liu Jingye nearly toppled over. How many years of training had this girl had? Did she really need to call out commands to herself? In a real fight, if no one gave the order, would she never fire?

Bang, bang, bang… Yuan Xiaoying fired with steady rhythm, each shot draining her arm strength with recoil, her movements becoming less precise.

Even more entertaining, after each shot, she’d cry out—her rhythm was “bang” “ah,” “bang” “ah,” as if each bullet were hitting her instead of the target.

This girl was hilarious. Liu Jingye struggled to keep from laughing. He glanced at his own target, raised his gun and fired—rapid-fire, pure and simple. Yuan Xiaoying started first, but by the time she fired her fourth shot, Liu Jingye had already finished all ten rounds and was leisurely lighting a cigarette.

His nonchalance didn’t disrupt Yuan Xiaoying’s rhythm; on the contrary, it bolstered her confidence. She thought him a total amateur—victory was in the bag.

By the time Liu Jingye finished his cigarette, Yuan Xiaoying had finally fired her last shot, lowering her gun and shaking her aching hand and wrist.

“Heh, kneel before me and admit defeat, boy!” she crowed, pressing the button to retrieve the targets.

The two targets glided forward. Yuan Xiaoying burst out laughing. “An amateur is an amateur—you only got one shot on target. Your luck’s not bad, though; that one round hit the bullseye.”

“Is that so?” Liu Jingye replied indifferently.

“See for yourself…” Yuan Xiaoying pointed at his target—the paper was pristine except for a single hole dead center. “Just one bullet hole. The other nine missed completely.”

“Is that so?” Liu Jingye repeated.

“Oh, come on! Don’t start that broken-record thing again. You only hit one shot. You don’t expect me to believe all ten bullets went through the same hole, do you?”

As she spoke, she paused, recalling the way Liu Jingye had handled the gun, the focused intensity he’d shown. Could he really have hit ten rounds through the same hole? Impossible.

Liu Jingye said nothing, lips curling in a faint smile. Only he knew the truth. “So, who won?” he asked.

“Of course I—” Yuan Xiaoying began, then fell silent, stunned. Her own target was a mess: only five holes, meaning five shots had missed entirely. Of the five that hit, one scored four points, one scored two, the other three only one point each—totaling just nine points.

Seeing her thunderstruck expression, Liu Jingye burst into song: “The sun sets over the western hills, red clouds flying. The soldiers return from the range, medals gleaming in the light…”

“Shut up!” Yuan Xiaoying protested, resorting to denial. “We agreed on ten shots each. You hit one, I hit five—I win.”

“But you said the winner is whoever has the highest total score.”

“Did I? You must be hearing things. Don’t skip your medication, alright?”

What a mess. When this woman decided to play dirty, even the slickest rogue wouldn’t stand a chance.

Just as Yuan Xiaoying was loudly insisting Liu Jingye honor their bet, two people walked past. She fell silent at once, eyes sharpening.

Liu Jingye turned to look. It was a man and a woman. The woman was a voluptuous, mature beauty in her thirties, like a ripe peach. The man was younger, tall and muscular, handsome in his athletic gear.

They walked side by side, quietly conversing, with no superfluous gestures. But the woman’s smile bloomed like a peach blossom, her eyes sparkling with girlish playfulness.

“There’s something going on between those two,” Liu Jingye remarked instinctively.

“You noticed too?” Yuan Xiaoying replied. “Come on, let’s follow them.”

“What?” Liu Jingye grabbed her arm. “What’s it got to do with you?”

“This is my mission.”

“What?”

Liu Jingye realized that, when he was with Yuan Xiaoying, he really was doomed to repeat himself.