19: Black Fans Stir the Pot, New Matches on the Horizon

It was well past four in the afternoon when I finally stirred from my slumber.

The good news? I felt perfectly fine—no dizziness, no discomfort. Just a refreshing clarity that welcomed me to the day.

As I powered on my phone, a wave of excitement washed over me. A transfer notification from the UFC lit up the screen, and my heart raced as I saw the figures: a staggering total of ninety-three thousand five hundred yuan. A thirty-thousand yuan appearance fee, a ten-thousand-yuan win bonus, and a whopping fifty-thousand-yuan reward on top of a three-thousand-five-hundred-yuan sponsorship commission.

Looking back, this new way of earning was almost surreal, especially when I compared it to the meager paychecks of my past. This single sum was almost equivalent to my entire net income before I stepped into that ring. And don't even get me started on the fact that my contract only covers three fights. With these earnings, I could easily buy a house in our little county, or even set my sights on something grander in the provincial capital—if I could snag wins in all three bouts.

Just two short months had transformed my trajectory. From the shadows of a substitute player to this newfound limelight felt like an enchanting dream just beyond reach.

I lingered a little, savoring the moment, before diving into my Douyin account. The video of last night's wild celebration with Gazi and the others had amassed over four hundred thousand likes—a staggering feat! Moreover, my follower count had skyrocketed beyond five hundred thousand. While that might seem minuscule compared to the mega influencers, for someone like me—once just a nameless sparring partner—it signified a monumental shift.

Even my followers on a tiny local TV station exceeded seventy thousand. Every month, these platforms could fill my pockets with some extra cash. My Instagram had also crossed the impressive threshold of one hundred twenty thousand followers, leaving Gazi and Burns buzzing with envy. They couldn't believe how quickly I had gathered a fan base that overshadowed many seasoned fighters.

This surge of interest proved one thing: audiences were drawn to fighters like me—hungry, unapologetic, and uniquely unfiltered. Take Gazi, for example. Before he took on the Wolf, he barely scraped together seventy thousand fans. It took him ages to reach the level of buzz I now commanded, and I hadn't even cracked the rankings yet.

Oh, but the possibilities! Once I found my name amidst the stars—battling legends like Gage, Chandler, Diaz, and Oliveira—my fan base could truly explode. Most fans pay little attention to fighters outside the rankings, but I could feel my time was coming.

As I scrolled through my notifications, I stumbled upon a familiar avatar. It was Haise Wei, my self-proclaimed "black fan." She had sent me two messages the night before and one more just that afternoon:

"Fake squid too,"

"International Gesture,"

And my favorite, "Why don't you reply?"

"Tell me your address if you can…"

A smirk crossed my face. This had to be the essence of the infamous black fan! I couldn't resist teasing her with a playful response.

"Did you lose money? 😂😂😂"

"I just won't tell you."

"Just so you know..."

I sent her a long string of ellipses before finishing with an international gesture.

…

Meanwhile, in a luxurious New York apartment, a young woman reclined comfortably on her sofa, indulging in grapes from a lavish fruit bowl while absorbed in a replay of last night's fight. Her long, brown hair cascaded over her shoulders, and the oversized T-shirt she wore barely concealed her long legs, which danced playfully at the edge of the cushion.

If anyone were to stumble upon this scene, they'd be left in awe. She was none other than the captivating Anne Hathaway, a rising star in Hollywood at just twenty-four years old. Though not obsessed with the fight game, she was influenced by her father's passion for the sport. Their shared father-daughter bonding trips flew them cross-country to catch the action live whenever there was a match.

Little did she know, her interest piqued when that intriguing banter with Ye Chen unfolded. The "Fake" comment she had sent him only fueled her competitive spirit.

Trying to pass the time, she replayed the video of Ye Chen's victory, her heart racing with anticipation. Suddenly, her phone chimed.

Wiping grape juice from her fingers, she scooped up the device. Upon seeing that familiar avatar light up the screen, her pulse quickened.

"He finally replied!"

"A crazy man, indeed," she thought, as she opened the message, eagerly awaiting his response. The long ellipses nearly sent her over the edge in excitement but when she saw the international gesture, her patience eroded, and curiosity turned to frustration.

You see, Anne had always been the object of affection since she could remember, cruising through life with a fortune of admirers and accolades. Yet this puzzling exchange with Ye Chen set a fire in her—especially since she had faced adversity and jealousy from naysayers throughout her journey to fame. His nonchalant reply felt like a direct challenge, and she loved the thrill of competition.

Before long, her fingers danced across the keyboard, crafting her next message with fervor.

…

Meanwhile, Ye Chen slipped out of his hotel room, eager to grab a bite and squeeze in some training. Every day felt like a precious opportunity to bridge the gap between him and champions who had begun their journeys long before him.

In the blink of an eye, a week flew by. As Ye Chen prepared for his flight back to China, his phone buzzed with an unexpected call from the UFC.

"Are you ready for your next match?" they asked, excitement crackling in the air. The opponent? Bobby Green—an unranked fighter known locally, but a respected veteran who had faced off against luminaries like Diaz, Maha, and others.

This was to be a digital competition scheduled a month and a half from now. Ye Chen felt an infusion of exhilaration.

Unranked or not, he knew that overcoming established fighters would launch him toward his ultimate goal. Sure, there are many rising stars, but with the right attendance, those opportunities would come knocking sooner than later.

As he mulled over the prospect, he felt resolve surge within him. Preparedness often met opportunity on its own terms, and he was ready for whatever the UFC had in store next.