In the finals of the World Championships, my gun broke because of a 50-cent screw.
My name is Zhou Yufei, a genius shooting girl from Xia Kingdom. That silver medal was like a hot iron on my neck. No one believed it was an equipment failure until head coach Lin Yue took me to open the warehouse of the training center - 63% of the gas bottles were expired, 75% of the gun barrels were scrapped, and there were only 47 days left for the next life-or-death battle.
The official purchase has to wait 18 months, but athletes cannot afford to wait for their golden career.
So, my coach stepped on a tightrope. He contacted Zhao Hai, a businessman who traveled in the dark area, and used "special channels" to obtain life-saving accessories. I knew he was taking a risk, but as I gripped the gun assembled from "smuggled parts" and re-aimed at the bullseye, I just knew: I was going to win.
When the customs inspection lights illuminated the entire batch of goods, Chen Zheng, the meticulous deputy director of the General Bureau of Public Security, raised the cold handcuffs in front of the coach.
They said he was guilty of weapons smuggling.
But they didn't see that behind the warehouse, there were two hundred children like me, waiting for the gunshot.
Is this a "crime" for the sake of victory, or a tragic self-rescue forced by the system?
When national honor collides head-on with legal red lines, who is responsible for the broken screw?
