Jiang Qiubai · Chat

The morning sunlight of July filtered through the floor-to-ceiling glass of the swim club, cutting shifting bands of light across the water's surface. Jiang Qiubai arrived forty minutes before opening. This was a habit he couldn't break even three years after retiring—an athlete's biological clock is more accurate than an alarm. After changing into his dark blue training swim trunks, he stepped barefoot onto the non-slip mat by the pool, a slight chill rising from the soles of his feet. He was the only one in the building. The water circulation system hummed deeply, and the air was filled with the faint scent of chlorine. This smell used to mean starting blocks, timers, and the coach's whistle. Now, it simply meant a normal day was about to begin. He walked over to the third lane and rotated his right shoulder. The old injury occasionally ached on rainy days, but today was a beautifully clear day. Taking a deep breath, he leaned forward and dove into the water. The splash was minimal. The moment the cool water rushed over his head and enveloped his entire body, all sounds vanished. Only his heartbeat and the rushing sound of water passing his ears remained. The arm strokes and flutter kicks of freestyle were deeply etched into his muscle memory; without needing to think, his body moved on its own. Twenty laps, one thousand meters. He swam at a warm-up pace—not fast, but every stroke was textbook-precise. The moment he emerged from the water, he shook the droplets from his hair. Water trickled down the contours of his full chest muscles, and against his cool fair skin, he looked as if he were glowing. "Tsk, I was wondering why you got here so early. Turns out you're secretly trying to outdo me while no one's around." Jiang Qiubai wiped his face. He didn't need to look to know who it was. Chu Zhao strolled in holding two cups of iced Americano, with a half-eaten bagel clamped in his other hand. He was wearing a black quick-dry tank top, his bulging chest muscles stretching the neckline into sharp angles, and his wheat-toned arms still bore fine scratches from tree branches during his hike last week. "Just warming up, not training." Jiang Qiubai took the coffee and took a sip. It was his usual: less sugar, extra ice. "Twenty laps is a warm-up?" Chu Zhao sat by the pool edge, took a bite of his bagel, and mumbled, "Sure, whatever you say." Jiang Qiubai didn't reply, simply drying his hair with a towel. The two stayed quiet like this for a while. The surface of the pool returned to a calm state, reflecting the steel frame of the ceiling above. This kind of silence was their most common way of interacting—no need to search for words, and never awkward. Just after nine, the college student working part-time at the front desk poked her head in. "Coach Jiang, there's a student at the front desk asking about classes. They want to sign up for one-on-one sessions." Jiang Qiubai draped the towel over his shoulders and locked eyes with Chu Zhao. Chu Zhao raised an eyebrow at him and mouthed "after you" with a hint of schadenfreude. Jiang Qiubai knew exactly what he was thinking—a one-on-one session was highly likely to be for 'that handsome, fair-skinned coach' again. "I'll go take a look." He put down his towel and walked out. After finishing the registration, the person walked toward the locker room with their bag. Passing the pool entrance, they ran right into Chu Zhao, who was leaning against the doorframe watching the fun. Chu Zhao grinned at them. "Choosing Coach Jiang is the best decision you've ever made. Besides his good looks, his technique is top-notch. Plus, he never scolds people—unlike some other coaches." When he said those last words, he pointedly nudged his chin in Jiang Qiubai's direction. Jiang Qiubai walked over, snatched the cold bagel wrapper from his hand, and tossed it into the trash can, completely ignoring Chu Zhao's teasing. "Shall we schedule the first session for Wednesday morning?" "That works." "Great, see you on Wednesday then." After the person entered the locker room, Chu Zhao leaned in and lowered his voice: "How many times do you think they'll sneak a peek at you during the first class?" "Are you that free?" "I'm only watching you because I'm free." Chu Zhao said righteously, patting his shoulder. "I'm off. Got to train that kid learning butterfly stroke. He almost drank half a liter of pool water yesterday." Jiang Qiubai watched Chu Zhao stride off toward the deep-water zone, his lips curving up slightly. Withdrawing his gaze, he bent down to pick up a pair of goggles left behind by the pool, wiped them clean with his towel, and placed them back into the lost-and-found basket. Then he turned and walked toward the coaches' break room, preparing to write the lesson plan for today's first group class. The pool's surface remained calm, reflecting the light streaming in from the floor-to-ceiling windows. Soon, this place would be filled with the laughter and splashes of students. Jiang Qiubai paused for a second at the break room door, looking back at the quiet water. In the past, what he pursued in the water was victory measured in milliseconds. Now, what he saw in the water was ordinary people starting to trust the water. It seemed pretty good too. He pushed the door open and walked inside.