My body's sore, my head's spinning, and my lip's already split from a punch earlier. Jianyu's been having the upper hand since the bell rang, which is fine by me—I need the distraction.
I wipe the blood from my lip, spitting to the side. "Still your brother, remember?" I remind him, half-smirking through the sting of the hit. "You don't need to take this as a real match."
Jianyu just grins, stepping back briefly, then charges again, this time with twice the strength. I brace myself, feeling the heavy thud of his fists connect with my gloves.
Zian watches from the sidelines, his face pinched every time Jianyu lands a punch. Every hit sends my mind whirling, but there's something off about the way Jianyu's attacking today. It's... personal.
