When I entered the scene, I heard some boos, as everyone had bet on V to win. Who would have thought I'd win? If they didn't want me to win, they booed.

It's a kind of psychological suggestion, telling me that I can't win, that I'll lose when I step up. For a boxer with not-so-great mental toughness, this can have a big impact.

I never bow the ropes because I can't bow my head in the ring, it's just my superstition.

When I stood facing V, he was still smiling at me with his mouthguard on. I told him to stop smiling, and he asked, "What?"

I took off my mouthguard and said, "Stop smiling, it looks ugly when you smile." Then I put it back on.

To the audience below, it may have seemed like a provocation, but V knew it was just pre-match humor, showing an optimistic attitude as a boxer.

V noticed that I was wearing the hand wraps he gave me, gave me a thumbs up, and went to do his pre-fight ritual.

In Muay Thai, the pre-fight ritual also serves as a warm-up, stretching muscles and tendons. V did it very professionally and devoutly.

The bell rang, we touched gloves, and the match officially began.

Usually, in the first minute, no one goes all out, they're just testing and observing the opponent. We exchanged a few jabs and low kicks while circling in the ring.

V's arms weren't tightly guarding his ribs, showing his resilience in taking hits. This defensive posture also signals to the opponent, "Come on, I'm not afraid to fight."

The audience below got a bit restless, cheering on, and then V suddenly landed a strong kick on my left thigh. I hissed in pain and shook my head at V.

A kick to a normal person's leg doesn't register at first, then suddenly it feels like a slice inside your thigh, followed by numbness and intense muscle pain.

V's eyes were hidden behind his fists, watching my every move.

One weakness of Muay Thai is its lack of grappling techniques. While some Muay Thai fighters learn various grappling techniques, it's often seen as secondary to striking.

V's strength lay in his powerful kicks, with high, mid, and low kicks all carrying great force. He hadn't used elbows or knees yet, but being skilled with his legs, he kept me at a distance. I had to get close to him.

I swiftly dodged, bypassed V's defenses, and unleashed a flurry of punches - jabs, hooks, and crosses. V wore fingerless gloves, unlike me, putting him at a slight disadvantage.

After this combination, I had to quickly retreat, as he might try to clinch and grapple, and then it would be time to use elbows and knees.

V lowered his arms from protecting his head, and I noticed a cut behind his ear. I suddenly felt a tinge of pity. I had seen friends get cut during fights before, but this time it felt different since meeting H.

V wiped the blood behind his ear and shook his head, his gaze becoming more intense.

The audience quieted down, the atmosphere turning serious in an instant.

V's striking frequency increased significantly - kicks, knees, punches, and elbows, each landing with impact.

As the pace quickened, both V and I were visibly tiring, adjusting our breathing and trying to regain our strength while engaging with each other.

Up until now, I hadn't gone for the back of his head. In our grappling exchanges, he would trap my neck with his left hand and strike with his right elbow, causing a sharp pain in my left ear.

My knee struck his ribs hard, each hit eliciting a muted groan from him.

As he pushed me away, his arms extended in a straight line. I struck his Adam's apple with the outer edge of my right palm, causing him to bend over. A downward jab to the back of his head sent V crashing to the ground, hands still trying to support him but his head unable to rise.

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When the bell rang, V's coach climbed into the ring, lifted V's head to check on him, and signaled to the referee. The referee rang the bell several times, and the audience started booing again. I quickly knelt beside V, tapping his face. His coach splashed water on his face, and V regained some consciousness.

I didn't know what to say to him, nor did I feel the usual excitement and joy of winning a match.

V smiled at me briefly before being assisted to the dressing room by his coach.

H handed me the prize money, looking happier than me.

I received a prize of twenty thousand, but I couldn't bring myself to go back to the dressing room because V was inside. I didn't know why I didn't want to face him, avoiding him at that moment. The reason? I couldn't quite explain it.

I washed my face in the bathroom, and blood dripped down my face. When I turned over, I saw a big cut on my left ear, which kept bleeding. I asked H to bring my clothes from the changing room, went to a small clinic to get stitches. The cut on my ear needed 21 stitches, maybe they were small stitches.

The doctor insisted on wrapping my ear, but I refused. He warned me about the risk of infection, but I insisted I would be fine. I took some medicine and left, ignoring his call to come back in three weeks to remove the stitches.

Feeling down, I headed back to the hotel, thinking about things. I wanted to cover one ear, but there was no way!

When I returned to the room, H was on the phone with someone and quickly hung up when he saw me.

Feeling low, I wasn't in the mood. H came over, touched my head, and asked if I was okay. I felt annoyed and glared at him, so he left without saying a word.

I looked in the mirror and saw the stitched ear resembling a long black centipede. The stitches felt hard to the touch, a bit gross.

Suddenly, I thought of V and wanted to call him. I had his number but didn't know what to say.

I bought two Nokia 8210 phones in white and blue, then called V to meet up. V joked around as usual, asking if I missed his Thai compatriots.

That night, I went out to meet a friend, but H questioned if I had friends in S City. I replied, "I travel everywhere for matches. How could I not have friends?"

I invited H along, but he seemed tired, so I suggested he rest instead. I assured him I'd be back soon.

I met V at a roadside BBQ stall. He greeted me warmly and teased me about not being able to find him at night.

We chatted, drank, and discussed various topics that night, including family, friends, hobbies, and martial arts.

V praised my boxing skills and potential, suggesting I shouldn't be involved in such fights. I didn't know how to respond.

The next day, I and H returned. I asked H why he helped me with illegal fights, and he mentioned referral fees, not just helping for free.

Life returned to normal, and I kept in touch with V and occasionally met him. The prize money bought me a computer, motorcycle, and PS2. When asked about the source of money, I claimed it was from stock trading, keeping my promise to H.

I continued to participate in fights with H and occasionally bumped into V, which always made me happy.

The last time I saw V was also because of a boxing match, but we weren't on the same team. At that time, I was already used to these boxing matches, thinking it was no big deal. It seemed like a good way to make money since it wasn't like what I had imagined before.

Two nights before the match, we agreed to have barbecue together. V was always smiling, giving off that friendly boy-next-door vibe. I kept asking him what toothpaste he used because his teeth looked so white.

V always said it was because he was dark-skinned, making his teeth appear whiter. I told him he knew that too.

Usually, we'd choose roadside barbecue spots, finding the taste better than in restaurants, plus it had a great atmosphere. I could always make V laugh during our chats. His laughter was infectious, and I'd tell him to slow down because I could see what he had for dinner the night before.

I don't know why the people at the next table kept staring at us. Maybe V's laughter was a bit loud, but this wasn't a fancy restaurant; can't people laugh by the roadside?

Different folks have their own ways and pleasures. Eating barbecue by the roadside, drinking some beer, and chatting casually - I didn't think we were bothering anyone.

I signaled to V, and he looked back at the people behind him. One of them immediately retorted, "What are you looking at?"

I stood up to go over, but V pulled me down, saying, "Hey, don't mind them. Let's just drink and enjoy ourselves. Don't start trouble."

With the upcoming match, I didn't want any trouble, so I sat back down.

There are always people who, given an inch, will take a mile, pushing you to a corner with no way out.

But these people don't realize that when someone has no way out, they'll explode - either hurting others or themselves.

The people at the next table kept muttering like a village scold. V seemed fed up too and told them, "Shut up, drink your booze, and don't pick a fight."

Suddenly, they all stood up and came towards us - four men and two women. One of the girls had a cigarette in her mouth. I don't mind women smoking, but I can't stand the attitude and look while smoking, influenced by those gangster movies.

Without much talk, a fight broke out. We settled the bill and wanted to leave, fearing the police might show up soon.

V suddenly pulled me aside, and then I saw him elbowing someone with a beer bottle breaking, cutting his elbow. The guy holding the bottle seemed stunned, and I wanted to go over and give him a beating, but V pulled me away.

At the hospital, V got five stitches on his elbow, and I asked how he could fight the day after tomorrow with his right elbow injured. He said it's fine; he still has his left arm.