Peninsula: Aiming for a Grand Slam

Chen Jixian sensed something was wrong as soon as he got off the bus.

The Daegu Civic Stadium remains unchanged, with its gray exterior and low entrance. Next to the parking lot stands a faded event sign that reads "ITF World Tennis Tour Juniors" in both Korean and English.

The difference lies in the people.

Last time he came to play in the qualifying rounds, there were only two kinds of people outside the door: players carrying golf bags and parents who brought their players.

The golf bag is worth more than the person.

The parents were more nervous than the athletes.

Today, three bread trucks were parked outside, and several middle-aged men were squatting by the roadside, carrying DSLR cameras and stabilizers.

Two young men were standing nearby, one with a camera hanging on his arm and the other with his phone held horizontally, taking pictures of the empty entrance.

"media?"

"Or perhaps it's social media?"

Chen Jixian stood on the sidewalk and pulled his mask up a little.

The two girls next to him looked up. One of them stared at him, nudged her companion with her elbow, and pointed in their direction.

Chen Jixian realized what was happening.

"Ball bag!"

"Yesterday, Bae Joo-hyun wasn't the only one trending on social media; the golf bag that Lao Wang gave me was also on the trending list."

exposed!

Chen Jixian lowered his head and strode towards the entrance.

He pushed open the door, walked through the hall, and at the end was a blinding ray of sunlight.

A person was standing at the entrance of the passage.

Wearing a gray hoodie, with a DSLR camera hanging around his neck.

It's Ye Haoran.

In the last round, he defeated "FILA Bro" 6-0 twice. This time, he wasn't wearing FILA; instead, he wore a gray sweatshirt with no particular brand.

The two people made eye contact.

Ye Haoran nodded slightly.

The movements were very light, as if he had hesitated for a long time. After finishing, he felt something was off, and his lips moved slightly.

"……come on."

The sound was muffled behind the mask, so faint that it could be blown away by a gust of wind.

Chen Jixian was stunned for a moment.

He instinctively turned around, but the other end of the corridor was empty.

"What did he just say?"

"come on?

"Impossible, right?"

……

Field No. 3

The sunlight was pouring down on us. The stands were quite full, more than double the number of people we'd seen yesterday.

The young people in the front row all raised their phones as soon as they saw him come in.

The shutter sound was very soft, but with so many people, it was a continuous cacophony of clicks, like raindrops hitting leaves.

Chen Jixian remained expressionless.

But he smiled bitterly to himself:

"With this kind of force, even the M15 would have to admit defeat, right?"

He put down his golf bag and unzipped it.

That Babolat PD was lying quietly inside.

There is a wear mark on the handle, about the size of a thumb, and the color is a shade lighter than the surrounding leather.

He pressed his fingers on it and rubbed them for a moment.

The "click" of the camera shutter seemed to fade into the distance.

When Wang Hao handed him the racket, he told him, "I'm keeping it but I won't use it, so don't break it."

He smiled and told Old Wang, "If you're reluctant to ride your bike, I'll stand up and pedal for you."

Time to get on the bike.

It's time to get back to work.

When he saw the words "sugar baby" in the morning, he wanted to refute them, but found that he didn't even have the right to speak.

But at this moment, with his fingers resting on the worn handle of the racket, he knew where he stood.

"This sports field is 23.77 meters long and 8.23 ​​meters wide."

"In this square frame, I am not the high school student whose face was blurred out in the trending searches."

"Not Irene's rumored boyfriend as seen on camera."

"It's nobody's problem."

"I am a tennis player."

Across from him, Lee Dong-hoon was juggling the ball with his racket. Once, twice, the ball bounced off the racket and back up, the rhythm neither too fast nor too slow.

He stopped what he was doing when he saw Chen Jixian come in.

His gaze swept across Chen Jixian's face, from the tennis bag to the racket, and then back to his face.

Then he smiled.

It wasn't a greeting.

His gaze was as if he were inspecting a newly opened package.

"Both players to the net, please."

The referee has been hired.

Chen Jixian bent down, picked up his racket, and walked to the net. Li Dongxun also came over. The two stood facing each other across the net, the net straps swaying gently in the wind.

The referee took a coin out of his pocket and placed it on his thumbnail.

"Call it."

Li Dongxun glanced at Chen Jixian.

"Tails."

The coin bounced up, tumbled a few times in the air, and landed on the referee's hand.

The referee glanced down.

"Heads. Yours."

Chen Jixian did not hesitate:

"I'll serve."

He chose to serve.

The referee nodded, made a note on the scorecard, and then looked up: "J. Chen to serve. 3 minutes warm-up."

The process is complete.

The referee went back to continue recording.

Only two people remained standing face to face at the net.

Lee Dong-hoon didn't turn around immediately. He leaned forward and whispered in Chen Jixian's ear—so close that one could even smell the sweetness of a sports drink.

"There's something I want to ask you," he said, his voice low.

Chen Jixian looked at him.

"I always thought women like her were hard to get, that many men couldn't win her over... How did you manage to sleep with her?"

Chen Jixian was stunned.

Lee Dong-hoon paused for a moment.

"If I'd known she was this easy, would I have spent more money to sway her?"

Then he smiled.

It carries a hint of something unspoken between men.

"Why don't you teach me?"

……

……

Lee Dong-hoon turned and walked towards the baseline. His steps were light, as if he had just finished a set of stretching exercises.

Chen Jixian stood still.

【she】

That was the only word that popped into his head.

It's not "Irene", not "Bae Joo-hyun", not the name trending on social media.

It's the "she" that Lee Dong-hoon was talking about.

The word carried a nauseatingly sweet taste as it slipped past his ear.

Switch the racket from right hand to left hand.

My right hand is empty.

His fingers curled slightly. All five fingers simultaneously pulled towards his palm, as if trying to grasp something.

I didn't manage to hold onto anything.

"Smash her legs open."

He took a step forward.

This step wasn't his decision; his foot moved on its own.

He lifted his knee first, and his body weight shifted forward—by the time he realized it, his toes were already on the net.

[Warning: Abnormal mood swings detected. Rest and temporary avoidance of social media are recommended.]

Stopped.

"We can't go!"

"Don't fall for his tricks!"

The trending topic is still up.

In the stands, at least a dozen mobile phones were still taking pictures.

If he had rushed over and grabbed that person by the collar, tomorrow's headline wouldn't be "Tennis Players Clash on the Court," but rather "Irene's Rumored Boyfriend Gets into a Brawl."

The storm still only swept towards her.

He pulled his foot back.

Turn around.

They walked very slowly.

From the net to the baseline, less than twelve meters, he took fifteen steps—three or four more than usual.

With each step, something is being pushed deeper into the ground.

The knuckles of his fingers were white from excessive force, and the veins on the back of his hands bulged like light-colored ropes, but the racket never fell.

He stopped when he reached the service line.

Squat down.

The shoelaces weren't loose.

He untied his shoelaces and retied them. After tying his left shoe, he untied his right shoe and retied it.

His movements were slow, as if he were completing a procedure that could not be wrong. His fingers trembled slightly, but each knot was tied perfectly square and immovable.

He stood up.

Warm-up pull-ups.

The first few shots were played aggressively, the ball flew over the baseline and hit the net.

"No, my hands are still shaking."

He loosened his grip on the racket.

"Two minutes."

Chen Jixian took a deep breath.

He stopped thinking about where to hit each shot, and it didn't matter if the ball went out of bounds. The ball came and went, and his breathing gradually stabilized.

The clenched fingers finally loosened.

"One minute."

He began serving.

The first landing point was off-target and went out of bounds.

The second ball is on the line.

The third ball landed at point T.

"Time."

Time's up.

He gently pushed the last ball over the net, turned, and walked towards the service line. He rubbed the ground with the sole of his shoe, looked up, and gazed at the other side.

Lee Dong-hoon was standing behind the baseline, still juggling the ball.

a bit,

Two times.

He stopped what he was doing, looked at Chen Jixian, and the lingering smile from before still lingered on his lips—the unspoken smile between men.

There was nothing on Chen Jixian's face.

There was no anger.

There was no sign of disgust.

There wasn't even a hint of desire for victory.

All his senses were compressed into something purer—focus.

In this focus, he found a weapon more effective than anger.

Hidden Quest: Burning Heart (1/2)

[Reward: None.]

Chen Jixian glanced down.

[Mission Objective: True anger isn't about burning everything down, but about locking the flames behind a door while they burn brightest. You closed the door yourself, and you hold the key.]