MW CH18

Chapter 18: Mosquitoes in This Cold?

“Swish—”

A black carbon arrow streaked like a meteor, nailing the ten-ring dead-on, no suspense.

“Mochuan, you’re insane! How many rounds is that—all tens? You could go pro!”

“Next week’s amateur match is on you…”

“Our hunting bow club’s finally gonna shine!”

The crowd showered Mochuan’s archery with praise. A curly-haired freshman girl clutched her bow on the sidelines, trying to speak but drowned out each time. Her friend, fed up, shoved her forward. She stumbled, yelped, and landed before Mochuan, looking up flustered, face flaming red.

“H-Hi… can you teach me… how to use a traditional bow?”

The others caught on, chuckling kindly, clearing space with excuses to leave them alone.

Mochuan stepped aside, smiling gently. “Have you learned before? Shoot one—let me see.”

She fumbled her bow up, nervous. “I did competitive recurve a while back, but I’m rusty. Saw the hunting bow club in college, thought it’d be cool, so… I joined.”

Ha, funny that. Ever since Mochuan joined, everyone’s suddenly “into” traditional bows.

“He’s a walking billboard—half the freshman girls are here for him,” the senior to my left said, following my gaze, launching into a rant. “Polite, skilled, tall, handsome—we hit the jackpot this time.”

I rolled my eyes, subtle, loosed an arrow—grazed the ten-ring’s edge. Opposite Mochuan, my shots were off today, always veering, never hitting ten.

My quiver emptied. To avoid accidents, you can’t fetch arrows while others shoot on adjacent lanes—I had to wait for both sides to finish.

Waiting, I couldn’t help glancing right.

“You’re hunching a bit… lower, yeah…” Mochuan, as she said, was courteous, measured—no excess contact, just verbal pointers from the side.

My stare wasn’t subtle. He felt it, looked my way, then at my target.

I tensed, straightening up, blurting an excuse. “Uh, I overdid it at the gym yesterday—shoulders are sore, so my aim’s off…”

Total lie—I’d gamed in my dorm all day.

He said nothing, pressed the girl’s bow down, pausing her. “Hold up—let them retrieve.”

I glanced left—Senior’s arrows were done too.

“You’ve got your own fans—you and Mochuan are huge on the confession wall,” she said out of nowhere, pulling arrows from her target.

I blinked. “What?”

“You don’t know?” She sounded shocked. “Wait, I’ll screenshot it.”

Stuffing arrows in my quiver, I hit the rest area for water. My phone buzzed—Senior’s confession wall dumps.

[Wall: Got dragged to this hunting bow club today—spotted a crazy hot guy, mixed-race vibes, pale skin. Too shy to ask for his number, regretting it hard now. Anyone know his name, major, girlfriend status? (Pic attached)]

Mochuan’s side profile, bow drawn—blurry, but his looks held up. Even down 30% clarity, the remaining 70% crushed most guys.

[Holy crap, he’s hot—where’s this club? I need to see him!]

[This beauty’s real? Definitely not Comp Sci 🙁]*

[I know him! Folklore freshman, Mochuan—not mixed, Cenglu.]

[So many hotties this year—I snapped one too, freshman I think (Pic attached)]

[Whoa, that vibe! I’m in—name, please!]

[Art dept junior, Bai Yin—player, good kids steer clear.]

[Fine by me—I’m no angel, he’s a flirt, I’m a mess, perfect match!]

[Hold up, Bai Yin’s not just a player—he’s gay. Girls, wake up, pick Mochuan instead (lol, like you’d land either)]

[They’d fit—shipping it!]

[Weirdly into this too?]

[What’s everyone shipping? Let me in!]

[Ascetic beauty x playboy prince—I’m obsessed!!]

I nearly spat my water. Who’s spreading I’m a playboy? And “ascetic beauty x playboy prince”? Yeah, I’m gay, but I don’t chase every guy, okay?

More screenshots—didn’t bother.

“Ridiculous,” I texted back.

She replied with a cackling emoji.

Post-water, I hit my lane. The curly-haired girl was gone, Senior swapped for some guy, and Mochuan stood right, adjusting his finger guard.

New round, aim still trash—I lost patience, firing wild.

“Weight on your heels, don’t pinch the nock too tight with thumb and finger—try again.”

I was mid-nock when Mochuan spoke. Grudgingly, I tweaked my stance per his advice.

“Like this?”

Arms crossed, he scanned me top-down. “Hunching.”

I frowned, sank my left shoulder.

“Still hunching… still… hunch—”

My arms ached, still not good enough. I dropped the bow, fed up.

“You messing with me?” I half-suspected.

He glanced over, ignored me—too aloof to argue—motioned to shoot again.

I shook my wrists, mentally ran through bow basics, including his tips, took a breath, and raised the wooden bow.

This time, he stepped behind me, gloved fingers brushing my left shoulder.

“No hunch here, huh?” His cool voice grazed my ear.

I flinched, sinking the bone under his touch.

A faint scent drifted off him… temple-like. Sandalwood, mixed with other woods. I sniffed harder, focus drifting—seconds later, he caught me.

“Focus.” His eyes flicked up, a stern teacher scolding a distracted kid. “This is self-defense and a weapon—treat it like your own eyes.”

Eyes? I brushed it off—overdramatic.

Adjusting till my arm and shoulder aligned perfectly, he pulled back. “Shoot.”

Reflex kicked in—fingers loosed, the arrow whistled, nailing a hard-earned ten.

Elation surged—then a half-laugh, half-taunt hit from behind.

“Next time you doubt me, check your own skill.” Mochuan muttered, retreating to his lane.

My grin froze, crashed. Wanted to snap back—couldn’t. Anger burned, guts twisting.

Senior called him polite? Who’s feeding her that crap?

Nocking again, staking my pride, I held my breath—arrow flew, unstoppable, dead-center.

Exhaling smugly, I jutted my chin at Mochuan—he wasn’t even looking.

“Wow, you’re good!” The guy left of me gawked, envious. “You’ve improved fast—barely show up—pure talent?”

I eyed his target—forget tens, barely hit sevens, some off entirely.

“You a freshman too?” Vague memory—he was new.

“Zhao Chenyuan, Comp Sci.” He offered a hand.

“Bai Yin.”

Handshake, names swapped, we chatted idly.

He and his roommate were coding a game—claimed it’d blow minds globally.

Mysterious and cocky, he piqued me mid-draw. “What kind?”

“Think Stand Your Ground-style city sim.”

I frowned. “Stand Your Ground?”

He saw my blank look, jumped in. “You don’t know it? That famous quiz show!”

“Oh, cool.” Still clueless, I half-assed it.

“When the beta’s out, I’ll hook you up with a code—first-wave shock!” Zhao Chenyuan beamed.

I drew, grinned. “Deal—if it’s good, I’ll toss some cash your way…”

Releasing, I didn’t look ahead—peripheral caught a shadow moving.

“Ah!” Zhao Chenyuan’s eyes bulged, horrified.

Dread hit. I looked—the sight stopped my breath.

The curly-haired girl, back somehow, bent for something dropped—my arrow loosed as she stood, heading straight for her face.

Time crawled—my “watch out” lagged across a chasm.

Time snapped—before “out” left my lips, another arrow sliced mine mid-air, both falling. The second shot streaked across lanes, thudding into the practice wall.

Heart hammering, I exhaled relief. She crumpled, legs out, onto the lane.

Next second, my collar was seized.

Mochuan gripped it one-handed, icy. “Where were you looking?”

“I…” Nearly fatal, my bravado vanished. “Didn’t see her…”

“I asked—where were you looking?” He pressed, unrelenting. “Eyes on bow, bow off people—did you hear me? You almost killed her!”

“Bai Yin didn’t mean it—chill, she’s fine…” Zhao Chenyuan rushed to mediate.

A crowd swarmed her, checking—she sobbed, shaken, helped up.

“S-Sorry… my arrowhead fell, thought he saw me…”

Wait. My fault for not looking, sure—but running into the lane? Why’s it all on me?

Two screw-ups, one scolded—blatant targeting. I don’t eat that.

“Let go!” I shoved his hand off, fire reigniting, blazing. “Quit acting big—who cares where I look?”

Before my folks split, they spoiled me. Post-divorce, scattered—Grandma raised me, spoiled me more. Aunt Wan? Treated me like a prince, no scolding. First time in my life someone’s chewed me out like a kid in public.

Fair’s fair—I’ll own my mistakes, but pick on me? No chance.

“Sorry!” I bellowed at her, voice booming across the hall.

Then, I flung my bow down, glared at Mochuan. “I’m slow—unfit for archery. Love teaching? Keep it—I’m out!”

Pin-drop silence. No one dared break it. Mochuan’s face darkened, bow-hand veins bulging.

I ripped off my guard, tossed it, stormed out.

Quit the club after. Senior, there that day, knew better than to push—didn’t try.

Days later, curly-hair found me at class, apologizing—Mochuan ripped into her too post-me. She blamed her carelessness, felt awful, needed to say sorry in person.

She looked wrecked—he hadn’t held back.

Honestly, knowing I wasn’t the only one chewed out eased me a bit. But rejoin? Never. I comforted her, told her to let it go, and never returned.

Winter break hit soon. Visiting Yan Chuwen’s, I learned Mochuan was that kid Yan Guan from the woodshed years back.

Sun stabbed my eyes—I winced, waking slow.

First glance: clear blue sky outside. Second: him, framed by the window, sunlight hugging him.

I watched a bit before speaking. “You really didn’t sleep all night?”

Stretching in bed, I froze—half-asleep last night, my face itched, like something brushed my brow, then cheek. Mosquito, I’d thought—scratched, rolled over, slept on.

Now? This cold, mosquitoes? Cockroach maybe? The thought prickled my skin.

“Any mosquito bites last night?” I shot at Mochuan.

He turned at my voice—not wrecked, maybe he’d napped in the chair.

Stepping over, he pointed at my phone on the nightstand, lips sealed.

What’s this? Tetanus shots mute you now?

Confused, I unlocked it, handed it over.

He tapped something, flipped the screen back.

I read, word by word: “Broke precepts yesterday, silent today, atone… avert calamity?”