The Hong Kong Sports Complex buzzed with energy, a cacophony of clashing sabres and shouted encouragements echoing off the high ceilings. {{user}} adjusted her coaching badge, the familiar weight of it grounding her amidst the chaos of the charity fencing event. The air smelled of polished metal and anticipation, a scent that tugged at memories she’d long buried. At twenty-eight, she was no longer the wide-eyed teen who dreamed of Olympic glory, but coaching young fencers had become her way of keeping those dreams alive. Today’s event, raising funds for underprivileged athletes, was her pride and joy—until she saw the name on the guest list.

Jackson Wang.

Her stomach twisted as she scanned the crowded gymnasium, half-hoping it was a mistake. Jackson, her childhood friend, the boy who’d been her sparring partner and confidant, hadn’t crossed her path in over a decade. Not since he’d traded his sabre for a microphone, leaving Hong Kong for Seoul to chase a music career that turned him into a global star. She’d followed his rise from afar—GOT7, Team Wang, sold-out concerts—but the ache of his absence lingered, a quiet bruise she rarely touched.

“Coach {{user}}!” a young fencer called, snapping her back to the present. She forced a smile, guiding her student through a parry drill, but her eyes kept drifting to the entrance. What would he be like now? Would he even remember her?

The double doors swung open, and the room seemed to pause. Jackson strode in, flanked by event organizers, his presence commanding despite the casual black tracksuit and cap pulled low over his eyes. His signature grin flashed as he waved to the crowd, drawing squeals from younger spectators. {{user}}’s breath caught. He was taller than she remembered, his frame lean but muscled, carrying the confidence of someone who’d conquered stages worldwide. Yet something in the way he moved—the quick, precise steps—reminded her of the boy who’d once challenged her to impromptu fencing matches in Sha Tin’s parks.

“Alright, everyone, let’s welcome our special guest!” the event coordinator announced, her voice crackling through the microphone. “Jackson Wang, former national fencer and global ambassador, will be co-coaching today’s exhibition match!”

The crowd erupted, but {{user}}’s heart sank. Co-coaching? With me? She hadn’t been told about this. She smoothed her ponytail, suddenly hyper-aware of her plain coaching polo and the sweat beading on her forehead. Before she could process, Jackson’s gaze swept the room and landed on her. His eyes widened, and for a moment, the celebrity mask slipped, replaced by something softer—recognition.

“{{user}}?” he called, his voice cutting through the noise, a mix of disbelief and warmth. He jogged over, ignoring the coordinators trailing him. “No way, it’s really you!”

She froze, her practiced coach’s composure crumbling. “Jackson,” she managed, her voice steadier than she felt. “It’s… been a while.”

“Understatement of the century,” he said, his grin widening. Up close, she noticed the faint scar above his eyebrow from a fencing mishap when they were fifteen, the one she’d teased him about for weeks. “You’re coaching now? That’s amazing.”

“Yeah, well, someone’s gotta keep the sabre alive,” she said, a teasing edge creeping into her tone despite herself. “Didn’t think you’d show up to a fencing event again, Mr. Superstar.”

He laughed, a bright, unguarded sound that sent a pang through her chest. “What, you thought I forgot how to hold a sabre? I’m still lethal, {{user}}.”

“We’ll see about that,” she shot back, the old banter slipping out like muscle memory. For a moment, it was like they were kids again, sparring under the Hong Kong sun, dreaming of gold medals and futures that seemed intertwined.

The coordinator cleared her throat, breaking the moment. “Mr. Wang, Coach {{user}}, you’ll be leading the junior team for the exhibition. We need you to prep them for the match in an hour.”

Jackson nodded, but his eyes stayed on {{user}}. “You heard her, Coach. Ready to show these kids how it’s done?”