Peninsula: Aiming for a Grand Slam

Saturday.

morning.

Chen Jixian finished packing his luggage, slung the bag over his shoulder, and held the thermos in his hand. Shen Xiaoting sat on the sofa, her phone screen lit up, not looking at him.

He went to the entrance to change his shoes.

"I've taken a week off."

Shen Xiaoting put down her phone.

"A week?"

"Um."

"What are you doing?"

He didn't speak.

Shen Xiaoting isn't stupid. The battered arm, the calluses on her hands, the tie-break in the stadium—these fragments, pieced together, lead to only one answer.

"Daegu, youth competition," he said anyway.

Shen Xiaoting looked at him, her eyes seeming to say, "Just as I thought."

Does your aunt know?

"My aunt doesn't know."

She smiled.

I'm not happy.

She looked at Chen Jixian:

"The teacher who set the questions changed last time, so I made them up for you. What about this time? How do you expect me to make them up?"

He didn't speak.

Shen Xiaoting covered her forehead:

"You take a week off, and I'll stay here. My aunt called and asked where Jixian is. What should I say?"

"Should I say you went to tutoring classes? Stayed in the dormitory? Or that you had a cold and were sleeping in your room? Why don't you just write down my lines for me now?"

Her tone was unpleasant.

But it's very depressing.

It's like water boiling in a kettle, the lid is rattling from the steam, but it hasn't overflowed yet.

Chen Jixian stood in the entryway, holding a thermos in his hand: "...You don't need to make it up for me. If she asks, just say you don't know."

Shen Xiaoting looked at him:

She asked Jixian if he had gone to play ball again. I said I didn't know. She asked Jixian if he had taken leave. I said I didn't know.

She asked, "Then what are you doing living here? I still say I don't know?"

She placed her phone on the coffee table.

"And then what will she think? She'll think, isn't this girl a trainee? Isn't she going astray? Sure enough!"

"She only lived there a few days before Ji Xian took leave and ran away. If it wasn't her who led her astray, who was it?!"

The living room was quiet.

Chen Jixian lowered his head and did not reply.

He couldn't catch it either.

Shen Xiaoting stood up, walked to the kitchen, and put the bowls away in the cupboard. The faucet was running.

After washing, dry your hands.

He didn't turn around.

"When are you coming back?"

"If you lose quickly, it'll be tomorrow. If you keep winning, it'll be next Sunday."

The living room fell silent.

Shen Xiaoting stared at her phone, not even glancing at him.

Chen Jixian stood in the entrance hall.

Leaving is not an option.

Staying is not an option either.

"Get out of here!"

He froze for a moment.

She didn't look at him, staring at her phone screen as if the words had come from the phone itself.

He stood in the hallway, turned around, and closed the door.

A sound came from the living room:

Do you have enough money?

That's enough.

"...Don't die out there."

……

……

Daegu is the fourth largest city in South Korea and the capital of North Gyeongsang Province. It is located in a basin in southeastern South Korea. It is surrounded by Palgongsan Mountain and Biseulsan Mountain, and the Geumho River and Sinchon River flow through the city.

The straight-line distance from Seoul to Daegu is approximately 240 kilometers.

There are two ways to proceed.

The express bus takes three and a half hours and costs nearly 30,000 won. The KTX takes one hour and forty minutes and costs 43,000 won.

Chen Jixian chose KTX.

The train crossed the Gyeongbu Line, heading southeast. The buildings of Seoul slowly receded from the window; the Han River flashed by and disappeared. Then came fields, tunnels, more fields. Daegu is a famous textile city, an apple city, and the birthplace of fried chicken and beer… but none of that mattered to him.

One hour and forty minutes later.

Dongdaegu Station.

The wind was stronger than in Seoul, and a little cool on the face. The basin terrain meant it was hot in summer, but still cool at the end of March. Chen Jixian took out his phone to check the map; the guesthouse wasn't far, a ten-minute walk.

An old building in a narrow alley.

The guesthouse owner was a middle-aged woman with curly hair. She took his passport, checked the order, and gave him a second look.

Take the key off the wall.

"302".

The room was so small it could only fit a bed, so he put his backpack on the corner of the bed. He carried his racket, ID, wallet, and phone on his person, leaving the rest of his belongings in the room—nothing of value.

Now, go check in.

……

In the afternoon, at the Daegu Citizens' Stadium.

There were seven or eight people queuing at the registration desk. Chen Jixian signed his name, received his competition certificate, and hung it around his neck.

A guy next to me, dressed in a full FILA outfit, was also signing in. His eyes lit up when he saw Chen Jixian's name.

"A fellow countryman? Where do you go to school?"

Seoul.

"I'm from Seoul too," the FILA guy grinned, revealing a set of white teeth. "Which school do you go to? Are you studying here?"

Chen Jixian gave the name of the school.

"Never heard of it, the International Department?" the man asked again.

"Um."

"I'm also from the international department." He took out his phone. "Can we add each other on WeChat? There aren't many Chinese people here, so we can arrange to play ball sometime."

The tone was warm.

When you meet someone from your hometown in a foreign land, the antenna stands up, ready to receive signals.

Then, his gaze swept over Chen Jixian—

A hoodie that's faded from washing.

A pair of worn-out sneakers.

An older model PD.

The antenna was retracted.

He was still holding his phone, but his fingertips were cold. His thumb hovered above the screen for a moment, but he didn't tap it.

A boy wearing a North Face jacket walked over and patted him on the shoulder: "Ye Haoran, let's go check out the venue."

The FILA man casually put his phone back in his pocket.

"They're here."

The two turned and left.

The guy in the North Face jacket glanced back at Chen Jixian and whispered something, but the guy in the FILA jacket didn't reply.

They acted as if adding each other on WeChat had never been mentioned.

Chen Jixian stood there, the cold March wind blowing in from the doorway.

It's a bit chilly.

[Urgent Mission: The Power of Friendship!!!]

[Mission Objective: In the second round of the qualifiers, do not allow FILA to score even a single point!]

"Holy crap! It can't be done! You damn system, do you think I'm Tezuka Kunimitsu?"

[The Power of Friendship - Mission Update]

[Task objective: In the second round of qualifying, without advancing to the third set, achieve two 6-0 victories.]

[Reward: Special Skill - Streamlined Appearance]

Is the dog system furious?

Chen Jixian smiled.

Right.

The Baibaoli PD was equipment personally selected by the system, which even hijacked his phone.

As a result, the "Mura Yoshitsugu" that the dog system had its eye on was actually looked down upon by FILA.

What a load of bullshit about the "power of friendship"! That damn system never once showed any pity for Wang Hao.

Of course, they didn't feel sorry for Chen Jixian either.

Ugh,

He also wants to wear a full FILA outfit.

……

……

When I got back to the guesthouse, it was already dark. The streetlamp in the alley was lit, but it looked as if it were shrouded in a layer of fog.

Go upstairs.

302.

The sheets were grayish-white, a color that had been washed too many times and could never be cleaned properly. The pillow was turned over, and there was a strand of hair on it.

It's short, just a single yellow hair; it's not his.

Chen Jixian put the pillow back and didn't turn it over again.

There's a smoke detector on the ceiling, but the red light isn't on. I don't know if it's broken or if it wasn't installed at all.

"Damn, could I have gotten syphilis from sleeping with someone for just one night?"

He was a little worried.

So, without taking off his hoodie or socks, he pulled the hood up to cover the back of his head.

As I lay down, the spring beneath me creaked.

The image of Ye Haoran retracting his antenna in the afternoon was still vivid in his mind.

A faded hoodie, worn-out sneakers, an old PD (producer)...

He pulled the blanket up to his chest; the blanket was a little damp.

"FILA male...Where does Ye Haoran live?"

It's probably a five-star hotel.

The sheets were clean white, there was no hair under the pillow, and the red light on the smoke detector was on.

He might be lying in a clean bed, scrolling through his phone, discussing with friends where to celebrate if he advances tomorrow—maybe a barbecue.

My phone vibrated.

Bae Joo-hyun.

She sent me a photo.

"The 83 Tower, photographed a few days ago."

Night view.

A tower, octagonal in shape, its entire body glowing with light—violet in color, like a frozen firework.

The streets, traffic, and the surface of the Qinhu River below the tower were all tinged with a light purple hue.

A few days ago?

Was she in Daegu a few days ago?

The tower was there, and so was she.

The screen's light fell on his face, a violet light. The smoke detector on the ceiling was still off, the blankets were still damp, and the man in the hallway was still coughing.

But those things are no longer important.