The night before the weigh-in was Jason Luo's weakest moment. His body felt drained, his vision blurred whenever he stood, and his limbs hung heavy as if he'd just recovered from a serious illness...
Coach Brown reassured him that this was normal. Excessive dehydration and urination had caused a temporary loss of salts and minerals—sodium, potassium, chloride, and phosphate. As long as he replenished his body with a specially prepared saline solution after weigh-in, he would fully recover within two or three days.
What a miserable experience... Jason Luo silently vowed to control his weight better from now on. He couldn't even sleep peacefully anymore, worried he might wet the bed in his weakened state.
Henry Luo hadn't realized how punishing boxing could be. Seeing his son's face drawn and his body leaner from dehydration filled him with guilt. After dinner, he urged Jason to go rest immediately.
But just as Jason lay down, his phone buzzed. Unknown number.
A bad feeling crept up his spine. Could it be her?
He picked up, and sure enough, Catherine's voice came bursting through—sharp and emotional.
"Hey! What's with you? You promised to be my boyfriend—shouldn't you be the one calling first? I've waited almost a week, not even a single text! And what department are you in, anyway? I asked around and no one knows you!"
Jason sighed, rubbing his temple. "Catherine, listen. Everything I said that day was true. You just wouldn't believe me. I'm not a student—I'm a professional boxer. Catherine, you're a beautiful, vibrant girl, but… we live worlds apart. That whole thing that day—it was a misunderstanding."
The other end of the line went silent.
That silence unsettled him. Then suddenly—he heard soft sobbing.
"You liar! You actually lied to me! I... I was finally ready to fall in love, and I meet someone like you! You used me...!"
She was crying?
Jason froze in disbelief. This couldn't be the same girl who had tackled him like a freight train and led a team of rugby amazons. And now she was crying—over him?
"Don't cry, Catherine. Please, I never meant to hurt anyone. That day was just one big misunderstanding. I swear, I never wanted to deceive you."
"Don't lie! You agreed to be my boyfriend right there in front of everyone! Are you saying that wasn't true? You probably even gave me a fake name! I hate you!"
"Wait—no, my name really is Jason Luo! About the boyfriend thing… that day, I didn't have a choice—"
"I'm not listening! Hmph! Don't think you can hide. With your phone number, I can just pay the telecom office to get your information. I'll find out who you really are!"
Jason broke out in cold sweat. A woman like Catherine was absolutely capable of doing something that crazy. "No, no, wait! Catherine, there's no need for that. I'll be honest—I'm a professional boxer from Chicago. That day, I really was visiting my coach, and I definitely wasn't spying on you."
He recounted the entire story honestly—how he wandered into the gym, what he was thinking at the time, and how everything spiraled out of control.
For a long while, there was only silence on the line. Then Catherine spoke again, her voice calmer now. "So… you don't have a girlfriend?"
"Uh... not at the moment."
She seemed to perk up immediately. "Then... you don't like me at all?"
Jason groaned inwardly. "I... well... how am I supposed to answer that? You're a beautiful girl, Catherine. But we've only met once. If I said I liked you, it wouldn't feel right either."
Catherine shifted tactics. "Then do you hate me?"
Jason frowned. "Of course not."
"Answer me properly!"
"I don't hate you."
"Hehehe! Yay!" Her laughter rang through the phone, bright and triumphant. "Not hating me isn't that different from liking me! I get it now. The fearless me on the field can't possibly lose the first battle in the game of love! Just wait—I'll make you like me... no, fall madly in love with me!"
Good grief.
This girl's logic was terrifying. Not hating equals liking? How did her brain even make that connection?
Jason had no idea how to pull her out of her fantasy.
"Chicago, huh? No problem. I'll book a flight for Sunday—I could use a little vacation anyway."
Oh, no.
Jason sat upright in panic. "Wait, no! Don't come! I'm heading to Las Vegas soon for a fight—you'd be wasting your trip."
"Then I'll just take tomorrow off and fly out!"
Jason was on the verge of collapse. "Catherine, please. We're friends now, right? Friends should trust each other. I'm in the middle of intense training, and you're an athlete too—you should understand. It's really not a good time to meet."
"But…"
"No buts!" Jason snapped, finally losing patience. "I promise you this—after the tournament, I'll go to Princeton myself. We'll meet and talk properly then. Okay?"
"Whoa, you dare raise your voice at me?"
Her shout made him wince—but then her tone softened into something almost teasing. "Still, that's the kind of confidence I like in a man. Deal. I'll wait for your call."
And with that, she hung up.
The moment the call ended, Catherine clenched her fist, joints popping. "You little brat… how dare you yell at me! Just you wait!"
...
"Achoo!"
Back in Chicago, Jason let out a loud sneeze. The abrupt end to the call made him uneasy for a second, but he shrugged it off. What could a sweet, innocent girl like her possibly do?
Forget it. Focus on the fight.
Strangely enough, after that call, Jason realized his mood had actually improved. Maybe that crazy girl had distracted him from the stress.
...
The next day, Jason Luo and Mr. Rod attended the official pre-fight weigh-in. Reporters surrounded them almost immediately.
"Mr. Luo," one asked, "some analysts believe your chances of beating Megan George are slim. What's your response to that?"
Thanks to Rod's coaching, Jason already knew how to handle these questions. They were just bait for dramatic headlines. He smiled calmly. "As a professional boxer, confidence is a must. I came here for one reason—to win."
The reporters leaned forward, eyes gleaming. "Then tell us, in which round do you plan to defeat your opponent?"
Jason blinked, smiling faintly. "Before my opponent defeats me, I'll defeat him first. That's my plan."
The reporters stared, momentarily speechless.
What a slick answer.
Mr. Rod grinned beside him, giving Jason a discreet thumbs-up.
Still unwilling to give up, one reporter tried one last time. "Some say your technical skill is far below your opponent's, and that your so-called flawless evasions in past fights were just hype. Will you prove them wrong this time?"
Jason glanced toward Rod, who subtly shook his head. Jason immediately caught on.
"I believe victory speaks for itself," he said evenly. "As for technique, I've never claimed to be a technical master. As for that so-called special state… let's just say everything happens as it should."