Peninsula: Aiming for a Grand Slam

Following the map on her phone, Shen Xiaoting turned into an alley.

Ace Tennis.

There's only one tennis court nearby.

The signboard was old, green with white lettering, and the edges were faded. Behind the glass door, muffled sounds of balls being hit and shouts could be heard.

There was no one at the front desk.

She stood at the entrance and glanced inside. The stadium wasn't large, with three courts, but only a few people were gathered at the very back.

Several middle-aged men in polo shirts stood outside the net, some holding thermos cups, others carrying rackets, all looking towards the court.

"Is this your first time here?"

Shen Xiaoting nodded: "Where's the boss?"

The middle-aged man gestured with his chin towards the field:

"Look, here he is, acting as referee. Old Zhao is playing a tiebreaker with the kids."

He unscrewed the thermos and took a sip:

"Old Zhao has been fighting here for over ten years. He bullied some kid and practiced all morning. Look at his belly."

Shen Xiaoting looked in the direction he pointed.

There are two people on the field.

A middle-aged man, overweight, with his polo shirt tucked into his pants, ran with his belly showing first.

The other one had his back to her, wearing a dark gray quick-drying short-sleeved shirt, and stood very straight.

……

The first goal.

Old Zhao serves.

The serve was slow and landed in the outside corner.

Chen Jixian took a step forward and received the serve with his forehand. The ball landed softly in the mid-court.

"Chance!"

Old Zhao went to meet them, and pulled them apart with his right hand. Out of the corner of his eye, he caught a glimpse of the figure opposite him move slightly.

Before he could even swing his racket, the backhanded kid changed direction.

Old Zhao's heart skipped a beat.

My swing was half a beat too slow.

I didn't draw, but instead pushed a straight line.

Chen Jixian is still waiting for him!

With a backhand swing, the tennis ball flew out, skimming the sideline.

Score.

1:0.

-

"pretty."

"That kid's backhand is really steady."

The figure turned around and walked back to the baseline.

Shen Xiaoting saw that face.

His eyes were bright, his nose was straight, and his jawline was clean. There was a sweat stain around the collar of his short-sleeved shirt, and his hair was plastered to his forehead.

"Chen Jixian?"

"Backhand kid?!"

Her guess was indeed correct.

The racket bag, the injury on his hand, the exhaustion from sitting on the ground every day, the drop in grades... these fragments pieced together. He really was playing tennis, and he played every single day.

Shen Xiaoting couldn't help but say:

"How did he play?"

The uncle recalled:

"His backhand is really solid, and his forehand isn't bad either. His serve is still a bit rough, after all, he's only been practicing for a few days."

"This kid has only been practicing his backhand for about ten days. He even had his thumb and forefinger rubbed raw, but he kept practicing with bandages on. Old Cui... Boss Cui was dumbfounded."

The second goal.

Chen Jixian serves.

He stood on the service line, patting the ball with his hand. The ball fell from his fingertips, bounced back, and landed in his palm.

a bit,

Two times,

Three times.

The pace was neither too fast nor too slow, as if he were measuring something. Then he looked up, stared at the opposite receiving area, and took a deep breath.

Throw the ball.

The ball rises from the palm of the hand without a trace of spin!

The hitting point is high, the arm is extended to its limit, and the wrist is flicked sharply.

The force starts from the soles of the feet, then moves up to the knees, waist, shoulders, and wrists—the power is transmitted up like a chain, link by link, and finally concentrates on the small yellow ball.

"Smack!"

The sound was short and crisp, unlike the soft, weak sound of before.

The ball bounces off the racket face with a low arc, then drops after crossing the net and lands near the T point.

bounce up,

It flew off, just missing the edge of the line.

Old Zhao didn't move.

It's not that I couldn't run, it's that I didn't react in time.

He didn't even extend his racket!

1:1.

ACE!

The serve was a bit rough?

Shen Xiaoting turned to look at the older man.

She had large eyes and long eyelashes. The light shone on her face, making her pupils appear slightly bright.

She didn't say anything, she just looked at him.

The middle-aged man felt uncomfortable under her gaze and coughed.

"...Didn't I tell you? This kid's progress is unbelievably fast; even Boss Cui is dumbfounded."

Shen Xiaoting turned around and continued looking at the field.

In about ten days, I practiced my backhand until the older players at the gym said it was "really steady," and I was able to beat experienced players with over ten years of experience.

He leaves home every morning carrying a thermos, and at night he is so tired that he sits on the ground with a vacant look in his eyes.

She thought he was in tutoring class, but he was at the gym. She thought his grades had dropped because he was playing too much, but he was practicing his serve. She thought she had guessed correctly, but she only saw a tiny bit on the surface of the water.

The third point in the tiebreaker.

Chen Jixian,

Second serve.

"Bang"!

This time it's not the T point, it's the outer corner.

The ball was a little slower than the first ball, but the angle was wide, heading straight for the service court sideline.

Old Zhao lunged forward, stretching his racket to its limit, barely managing to touch the ball. The ball bounced back, drifting limply to the midfield.

Chen Jixian was already waiting there. With a forehand stroke, the ball hit Lao Zhao's open backhand side.

2:1

……

……

When the score was 5-2 in the tiebreaker, Zhao had lost all fighting spirit.

Chen Jixian didn't give him a chance to turn the tables.

They scored two points in a row.

7:2.

The seventh game is over.

Old Zhao stood on the field, wiping the sweat from his forehead with his sleeve, but he wasn't out of breath yet.

Chen Jixian stood opposite him, his breathing only slightly heavier.

I didn't sweat much.

"Old Zhao, you've got guts today!" shouted a middle-aged man in a blue polo shirt from the sidelines.

"Exactly, it's not shameful to lose to a young man like that."

"Better than last time; last time we lost even faster."

"Shut up." Old Zhao finally straightened up, glared at everyone, but with a smile on his face.

He walked to the sidelines, took out his wallet from his pants pocket, pulled out a few bills, and handed them to Boss Cui.

"Today's venue fee."

Boss Cui took it without saying anything, but smiled.

Old Zhao put the racket into his bag, zipped it up, and glanced at Chen Jixian as he stood up:

"Next time I'll come in the morning, and we'll play when you're feeling better."

You're so stubborn.

What could Chen Jixian say?

All I can tell him is:

"OK."

Old Zhao picked up his bag and left. After taking a couple of steps, he turned back and glanced at him again: "You little rascal, your backhand isn't bad."

……

……

Shen Xiaoting stood at the back of the crowd. The sound of the ball being hit rang out again, but she didn't watch anymore. She turned around and pushed open the glass door. The alley was quiet, and the shouts from inside the stadium sounded muffled through the door, as if they came from a great distance.

Shen Xiaoting walked towards home.

The sound of the ball bouncing still lingers in my mind. One bounce, two bounces, three bounces, neither too fast nor too slow.

What is he measuring?

she does not know.

After practicing for about ten days, I was able to beat a veteran player who had been playing for over ten years.

He didn't care that his hands were raw and bleeding. He didn't care that his grades dropped. He had staked his entire fortune on tennis.

Seventeen years old, with no prior experience, practicing seven or eight hours a day. Is this a viable path?

She doesn't understand tennis, but she knows what it feels like to "bet everything on something uncertain."

She was a trainee, she knows everything.

Her aunt told her to keep an eye on Chen Jixian. Should she tell him? If she does, her aunt will pressure him to change his ways, and Chen Jixian will hate her. If she doesn't tell him, and his tennis career falters and his grades drop, her aunt will blame her too.

She blamed him for living in her house, sleeping in her bed, and watching him go astray without stopping him.

If I don't get into Seoul National University.

They don't want to be corporate slaves.

What should I do? Debut at SM Entertainment?

She stood at the alley entrance for a long time. She took out her phone and opened her aunt's chat window.

type.

"Aunt, I've already asked him."

"He said the style of this exam was different from before, and he wasn't used to it. He should be able to adjust next time..."