When I met H, mobile phones were a rare item. It was cool to see someone pull out a phone on the street to make a call. If it weren't for the vanity and extreme desire for money back then, I would either be a coach or own my own club now.

H was about 30 years old, a bit cunning and sleazy. He always knew what you were thinking, having lived ten years longer than me.

At 17, there were so many things I wanted to do, but money was a prerequisite for most of them. Buying a phone, a computer, a gaming console, clothes, a motorcycle, dating - all required money. My allowance was tight, so I had to pretend to be wealthy, which was a big loophole H took advantage of.

On the day I met H, he lent me his phone, a gray MOTO flip phone. At that time, most people were still using pagers, so when I casually took out the phone, it felt like showing off.

After knowing H for a short while, we went to S city together, where I experienced underground fighting for the first time.

In my mind, underground fighting was extreme and brutal, with only one person walking away from a fight. But H explained it wasn't like that, telling me not to worry as I had watched too many movies.

We met the boss of the house and another middle-aged man at a nightclub in S city. I got into a fight with someone in the room because I couldn't stand the attitude of the guys there.

Outsiders watch the excitement, insiders watch the tricks. The boss had seen many fighters, so my initial suspicion was dispelled due to the conflict.

No boss would match fighters with significantly different strengths, as it would raise suspicions of foul play. Business should be honest, no matter the kind.

The audience for my first underground fight wasn't small. The arena was packed.

Initially, the odds were 1:2, but then they changed to 1:3. The number of people betting on me dwindled after the change.

It was a smart move by the boss, even the opponent's boss bet on their own fighter.

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What made me uncomfortable was feeling like a gamecock in an ancient fight. I didn't feel like a fighter, just their pawn.

My opponent, V, was a black Thai mixed-race man with a big smile and white teeth. We chatted in the dressing room before the match. He shared stories about his hometown and warned me about respecting the different Buddhas in Thailand to avoid misfortune.

V was friendly, offering to show me around Thailand and introduce me to Thai girls and compatriots in China. He joked about Chinese guys being popular among Thai girls, and we shared a laugh.

V had his coach and assistant, while I only had H.

The people betting on V probably felt more confident seeing my awkwardness.

In this underground fighting, fighters couldn't wear boxing gloves, but mouth guards were allowed. The referee was outside, signaling with a small gong for breaks.

V and I were both fighters in it for the money, considered pawns and playthings by others. I didn't resent him.

V seemed like a good guy, not trying to lower my guard by chatting before the fight. He emphasized not showing mercy, upholding a fighter's dignity.

As V left the dressing room, we fist-bumped, and he smiled with those white teeth. Despite being a professional fighter, I felt a bit late to meet V, treating him like a newfound brother. Knowing we'd face off soon, I couldn't shake the sense of loss.

From the audience's reaction, V seemed well-liked, indicating his skill level.

I followed the rules of the fight, avoiding hits to the back of the head and groin instinctively. Despite H's warnings, it wasn't easy to forget those rules.

I didn't wrap my hands but used the pair V gave me. It wasn't to please him but to show that we were opponents on stage, yet friends off it.

V practiced Muay Thai, a fierce and sharp form of combat. Though not as flashy as in movies, Muay Thai was powerful and intimidating, emphasizing psychological warfare. It dared you to hit, showing it didn't hurt, drawing you closer.

The force behind Muay Thai strikes and kicks was astonishing. Fighters maintained a lean and agile posture, taunting opponents with their resilience and proximity.

The resistance and power behind the Muay Thai fighter's strikes and roundhouse kicks are astonishing. In ancient Muay Thai, fighters used to kick coconut trees to strengthen their legs for striking, but this method significantly reduced their professional career span.

Later fighters and coaches changed their training methods, using rolling pins to toughen the shin bone. Rolling the shin bone for one to two hours daily would eventually form a calloused membrane on the outer layer of the bone. Some also trained by kicking tires, which was more comfortable than kicking coconut trees.

Each coach had their unique training methods, some of which were kept secret.

I had to be extremely wary of his elbows and knees, as they are the two most lethal attack points in Muay Thai. The fighters' use of these strikes was masterful and precise.