Chapter Fifteen: A Stunning Entrance-Those Years with My Teacher(Clouds Return Home)

However, the harsh reality soon left them battered and bruised.

Aside from the occasional seven or eight rings, losing half the group only meant barely hitting the target, and most couldn’t even manage that. This highlighted the importance of strong fundamentals. The past few days spent practicing with bricks tied to our arms had allowed most in our unit to keep the rifle steady while shooting—this, more than anything else, explained our comparatively impressive results.

Lining up the sights is something nearly everyone managed, but the real test is keeping the gun steady until the bullet leaves the barrel. Even the smallest deviation can send the shot wildly off course.

When all teams had finished shooting, the chief instructor announced the results: only I had hit a perfect ten, no one scored a nine, and twenty people reached eight rings.

“Those who scored eight or above, come forward,” commanded Hua Wannian. The twenty-one of us, myself included, immediately assembled at the front.

“Now, each of you gets ten rounds. If your average score is seven point five or higher, you’ll be allowed ten rounds of practice each day,” Hua Wannian declared, sending ripples of excitement through the ranks. Those who didn’t have this opportunity grew restless.

“Attention, everyone!” He silenced the commotion with a mocking smile.

“Resources are limited. Making the most of them is a rule of society,” he said. “Some of you may think this is unfair.” He glanced around. Some people nodded in agreement.

“But let me tell you what fairness is. Fairness means those who work harder reap greater rewards. Tomorrow and the day after, if anyone manages to hit eight rings, they’ll take part in this trial and receive the same reward. Whether you succeed or not is up to you.”

Hua Wannian seemed ready for a lengthy speech, but then remembered we were just naïve student soldiers and cut himself short.

Sure enough, those who had managed six or seven rings now had a gleam in their eyes, as if already picturing themselves practicing with live ammunition.

“What are you waiting for? You have five minutes. Any unused rounds will count as zero.” At his words, I hurried to load my bullets, released the safety, and took up a half-crouch to aim at my target.

I calmed my mind. In that moment, the bullseye was the only thing in my world.

Bang!

…

While the others had barely fired their first shot, I had already emptied all ten rounds.

Neither the other twenty shooters nor the instructors could understand why I did this. Many began to suspect my previous perfect ring had been pure luck, and that now, facing real ammunition, I had panicked and wasted my shots.

But that theory didn’t quite add up. After all, who would be foolish enough to squander such a rare chance to shoot?

Caught between conflicting thoughts, no one considered that perhaps I was so confident in my aim that I didn’t need to hesitate, finishing ten rounds in under twenty seconds.

But then, we were all rookies—none of us had handled a real gun before. Who would think like that?

For me, though, my confidence came from my beloved little sister.

I remembered when Yan Yan first came to our family, and my father and stepmother took us to an amusement park. Yan Yan wanted a giant plush toy displayed at a booth. My father intended to buy it, but it turned out the toy was a prize for a balloon-shooting game and not for sale. Our whole family tried several times, but our terrible aim meant we never won it. Yan Yan cried for a long time.

Later, Dad bought her a new plush toy, and although she was happy, I could see she was still disappointed.

Afterward, I spent my New Year’s money on a toy rifle just like the one at the amusement park. After firing nearly ten thousand plastic pellets, I mastered shooting within twenty meters, though I did break a neighbor’s window in the process and earned a thorough beating from my father.

Yet it was worth it. I begged my parents to take us back to the amusement park. When I saw that the plush toy was still there, Yan Yan couldn’t take her eyes off it.

“Dad, may I have ten yuan?” I took the bill and headed to the balloon-shooting booth.

“Boss, you’ll give this plush toy for free if I hit all twenty shots, right?” I pointed to the largest prize on the shelf.

“That’s right, kid. Want to give it a try?”

I handed over the money and received fifteen yuan in change.

With the toy gun in hand, that feeling of never missing returned. I loaded the pellets, took aim, and prepared to shoot.

At first, I thought just aligning the sight with the balloon would ensure a hit, but after some trial and error, I realized it wasn’t so simple. Using my own techniques, I took my first shot.

Pop! The burst of the balloon proved my aim was true.

Second shot, third shot… all the way to the twentieth.

Amid the stunned silence of my parents, sister, the booth owner, and bystanders, I scored a perfect streak.

“Sir, may I take the toy now?” I asked, staring at the plush.

“Go ahead, but if anyone asks, tell them you won it here,” the owner replied.

I nodded, seeing nothing wrong with that.

“Yan Yan, this is for you.” When I handed her the toy, her joy was boundless. She called me “big brother” for the first time.

From the first day I touched a real gun, I had a feeling I could shoot accurately. When my first shot scored a perfect ten, I knew I could trust that feeling.

So shooting was effortless for me. Once I finished my ten shots, I set the gun aside and stood to the side.

“Target One, total score: ninety-nine rings, average: nine point nine.” The scorekeeper’s voice was incredulous.

“What? Nine perfect tens and one nine?” The chief instructor was visibly shocked. He grabbed his binoculars for a closer look, then stared at me like I was some kind of monster.

“Have you fired a real gun before?”

“No, but I’ve played with toy guns, and I never miss.” I didn’t bother to be modest; it was better to be direct than endure endless questioning.

“Wait here until the others finish,” the instructor said, his tone gentle. But used to his usual sternness, I found his warmth unsettling, as if stalked by a natural predator.

“What are you all doing? Keep shooting!” he snapped, bringing everyone back to their senses.

Bang! Bang! Bang!

The sporadic gunfire resumed.

Soon, everyone had finished their ten shots and stood up.

Perhaps my score unnerved them—out of twenty people, only six barely qualified.

“Very good. I’m surprised even six remained. From now on, aside from your team’s single allotted bullet, you’ll each get ten extra rounds per day for practice.”

“In light of Yan Ruyu’s outstanding performance, he will be granted one hundred rounds of live ammunition each day.”