Conflict in the Shooting Range

"Monkey, honestly, this past year you haven’t joined us for any group activities. Don’t you care about brotherhood anymore? I don’t care, you have to come this time." Ma Siyuan finished speaking and, with Li Lei’s help, dragged Hou Rui—who was completely bewildered—out of the classroom.

Soon, the three of them stood at the entrance of a massive lecture hall. On the door, an A4 sheet of paper announced: "Second Foreign Language: French Class."

"You guys want to learn French?" Hou Rui looked at them in surprise. He had known these two for ages and never seen them as the studious type.

"Of course, we’re college students with ambition and ideals," Li Lei replied righteously.

"No way. From what I know about you, there’s definitely a scheme behind this," Hou Rui retorted without hesitation.

"Oh, stop worrying about it. Let’s go register right now." Ma Siyuan, looking desperate, dragged Hou Rui inside. The next second, Hou Rui instantly understood the purpose of these two scoundrels.

In the tiered classroom, which could seat a hundred students, there were 340 girls chatting and laughing. Clearly, the romance of France was an incredible draw for young women—this French class was without a doubt a feminine kingdom.

"You two are planning to use French lessons as an excuse to pick up girls, aren’t you?" Hou Rui whispered as he glanced at the room full of beauties.

"Smart, monkey’s always sharp."

"Monkey, here’s the deal: this French class was just established by the department, with only thirty-five spots. According to my intel, thirty-two girls have already registered. With the three of us, the quota is filled. Any other guys hoping to chase girls won’t get in."

"We’re here to protect our female classmates, and maybe learn some French along the way."

"Exactly, maybe learn some French."

The two clowns, perfectly synchronized, gave Hou Rui no chance to object and dragged him to a desk, forcing him to sign up.

But the moment the reluctant Hou Rui finished signing his name, the faces of those two instantly changed.

"Alright, I’ve secured your spot. Now I can go to work, right?"

"Yeah, go on—don’t be late."

"Right, if there’s a roll call during class, we’ll answer for you." Ma Siyuan and Li Lei said all the right things, but their eyes were fixed on the crowd of girls, impatiently searching for their prey.

"You two, chasing girls at the expense of brotherhood—that’s just wrong," Hou Rui protested weakly.

"Look, third row, center—girl in the royal blue dress. Isn’t that the campus belle, Cheng Lin?"

"Back off, she’s my goddess! If you try to steal her, I’ll ruin you."

"Oh, look at you, claiming her as yours? I saw her first."

"I was first!" The two scoundrels completely ignored Hou Rui. After shaking his head with a wry smile, Hou Rui left the classroom before the lesson started, heading straight for the school gate.

Seated on the city bus, Hou Rui chatted with Jin Shanshan on WeChat. Over the past few months, their closeness had grown rapidly. Hou Rui gradually realized Jin Shanshan was actually a very easygoing girl—apart from her somewhat flamboyant personality, she was quite genuine.

Not long ago, Hou Rui bought a Montblanc Kennedy fountain pen with a pure gold casing, engraved with their initials, and gave it to Jin Shanshan as a gift—effectively becoming her nominal boyfriend, half willingly, half coaxed.

Yet, as their romance heated up, Hou Rui harbored worries. He feared that his dangerous lifestyle might someday drag Jin Shanshan into trouble, something he never wanted to see.

"Alright, I’ll stop chatting for now. I’ve arrived at the shooting range. I’ll message you after work," Hou Rui said, preparing to put his phone away. But Jin Shanshan replied instantly, "Okay, don’t forget the movie Sunday night. I’ve been dying to see Now You See Me 2."

Hou Rui responded with a smiley, then got off the bus and strolled into the shooting range.

After a year of part-time work, Hou Rui was thoroughly familiar with Tomorrow Shooting Range. Along the way, he greeted the staff on duty, quickly changed into his uniform, and took his place at the bar counter in Shooting Hall No. 3.

Shortly after seven, a few guests trickled in. Most were children of prominent families from the capital, coming to play with guns for fun and stress relief. Only a handful were department officials, who came to practice and maintain their skills.

The group Hou Rui was serving now clearly belonged to the latter. They arrived after ten o’clock: three men and a woman, checking out two guns—a nine-millimeter pistol and a Colt Python. Hou Rui was most struck by the thirty-something woman. Watching her handle the powerful Colt Python, she rolled out the cylinder and fired six shots, scoring fifty-nine rings—a professional athlete’s standard.

"Sister Hong, you sure handle a pistol beautifully," said a crew-cut man.

"Just a fixed target at twenty-five meters—not much," the woman replied, setting down the gun and removing her headset.

"Shooting takes early training. Back in Tushan, Sister Hong honed her skills by shooting cigarette butts," someone reminisced.

"I’m nothing. In Tushan, two old soldiers could hit incense sticks at three hundred meters with a Type 56. Those were real marksmen," Sister Hong said, her face nostalgic.

As they chatted, another group arrived at Hall No. 3. Leading them were two hippie youths in short-sleeved, floral shirts. Not only their ears, but their lips, eyes, and noses were pierced with metal rings; their arms and necks were covered in tattoos. Behind them came fifty-six girls of similar age, each dressed more scantily than the last—remove thirty-two more pieces of fabric and they'd be naked.

"Oceans, this is my first time here. Shooting guns is awesome!" a red-haired girl exclaimed, waving her arms excitedly.

"This is nothing. Next time, I’ll let you drive a tank," the one called Oceans boasted, fiddling with the thick chain around his neck.

"Really? Can we ride a helicopter?" asked another girl in a halter top, eyes wide.

"My dad’s in the military district. If tonight’s fun, tomorrow I’ll let you try a fighter jet," Oceans bragged.

"Yeah, right—you’re all talk."

"Talk, nothing! Tonight, you eat my chicken; tomorrow, you ride my plane," the punks bantered shamelessly, making crude jokes. The earlier guests frowned in disgust; the crew-cut man was about to speak up, but Sister Hong subtly shook her head to stop him.

When the punks reached Hou Rui’s counter, the shooting range safety staff opened a case. "You picked out a Type 47, a Type 5, a .38, and a Desert Eagle. Here they are—enjoy." He laid the guns on the counter, and Hou Rui quickly found the corresponding ammunition and placed it alongside.

"Too little! What, you think I can’t pay? Give me a thousand rounds!" Oceans shouted at Hou Rui, reeking of alcohol.

"Sorry, our range has rules—a guest can only check out ammo equal to two magazines at a time. Once you’ve shot those, I’ll bring you more," Hou Rui explained smoothly, smiling as he did so. After all, he’d handled this scenario countless times.

"I don’t care, just give me the bullets!" Oceans protested, reaching for the Type 47 and aiming it single-handedly at Hou Rui’s nose.

Though the gun was empty, the safety officer moved swiftly, ready for trouble.

Facing the muzzle, Hou Rui calmly waved to the safety officer, signaling not to worry. He addressed Oceans, still unhurried, "I’m sorry, sir. The safety protocols are strict, but they’re for everyone’s protection. Please understand."

Hearing Hou Rui’s composed response, another punk beside Oceans realized causing more trouble wouldn’t help. He took the Type 47 away, set it back on the counter, and dragged the cursing Oceans to a separate shooting lane, the girls trailing after.

Hou Rui handled the interruption with ease and resumed his preparations. Unbeknownst to him, Sister Hong had quietly observed the exchange, clearly impressed by his approach and smiling in appreciation.

The crew-cut man, noticing Sister Hong’s admiration, whispered, "Don’t underestimate these Tomorrow Range staff. After working with guns so long, each one is bold and sharp."

Sister Hong smiled without comment, reloaded her Python, and resumed slow, deliberate shooting, standing sideways with one hand.

Meanwhile, Hou Rui had sorted the punks’ weapons, ammo, and headsets, loaded them onto a tray, and delivered them to the shooting lanes. Once four safety officers were in place, Oceans and his gang eagerly grabbed their guns, loaded magazines, and began blasting away.

The Type 47’s sharp reports, amplified by the echo and Oceans’ wild firing, filled Hall No. 3 with continuous gunfire, drowning out all other sounds and forcing even Sister Hong’s group to pause their conversation.

"Awesome! This is what being a real man feels like," Oceans shouted, finishing a magazine in seconds, grabbing another, and launching into his second round of wild shooting.