Peninsula: Aiming for a Grand Slam

Seoul.

SM practice room.

Ningning sat cross-legged on the floor, her phone held horizontally, displaying a match on the screen.

It's been muted.

Only the image is moving.

Liu Zhimin sat in the corner, leaning against a wall, her knees curled up, staring blankly at her phone.

My phone hasn't been lit since that call this morning.

The game started.

He won't contact me anymore.

When Jin Dong went out to buy coffee, she asked everyone if they wanted some, but only Giselle responded.

Taking advantage of this opportunity, Ningning turned on her phone.

"Hey, your tennis friend is on Naver Sports' live stream."

Liu Zhimin's fingers paused for a moment:

He's from your hometown, not my friend.

"oh."

Ningning didn't argue, she just turned her phone around and showed it to her.

On the screen, Chen Jixian switched the racket to his right hand and took a ball out of his pocket with his left hand.

Ningning lowered her voice: "The other side is really unlucky, they're going to get a Love Game in the very first round."

Gisele rolled her eyes.

The person opposite her is her fellow Japanese.

This was a completely undeserved disaster.

She felt sorry for them.

Liu Zhimin was staring at the screen when she saw him touch the ball with one hand.

The fingers are long and slender with distinct knuckles. Long-term gripping of the racket has created a thin callus on the base of the thumb, but it is not rough.

She recalled that open space, and the feeling of his fingers brushing against the back of her hand as he taught her how to hold the racket—dry, warm, and steady.

At that moment, that hand was casually pulling a tennis ball out of its pocket, a movement that captivated her attention.

Anyway, he doesn't know I'm watching him.

she thinks.

then,

He added another sentence in his mind:

"He probably doesn't care."

The door opened.

Jin Dong walked in, carrying coffee and a bag from the convenience store.

Ningning, quick-witted and agile, swiped the screen down a bit to reveal the scoreboard: "Nakamura Shota doesn't look right, is he feeling unwell...?"

His tone was full of concern for Gigie.

Giselle rolled her eyes—how could she not know who the little brat was feeling sorry for?

Jin Dongtian leaned closer, a look of disgust on his face.

His words hit the nail on the head.

"Do online media outlets even know how to film? Why are they filming this loser? J.Chen is so handsome, he doesn't even know how to make money."

Ningning was dumbfounded.

Giselle glared at her: "Kim Winter, keep your voice down."

"That's true. Even with the same move, J.Chen just looks better than others."

Liu Zhimin has already taken a step back.

She sat back down in the corner, seemingly not looking at anything.

But in her mind, she was still replaying the image of Ace chasing after her—he was in even better shape than the day before yesterday.

He didn't care about the 20 people petitioning, nor did he care about the group of Koreans in the stands... and probably he didn't care about her either.

……

……

"Go Japan!"

"Kill J.Chen!"

Shota Nakamura stood behind the baseline, the ball spinning in his hands.

He wanted to win a game.

Just one game.

He tossed the ball up, with a sidespin to the outside corner, and immediately rushed towards the net after serving.

Intercept!

Push to the backhand position.

The ball landed near the sideline, and Chen Jixian moved laterally but couldn't catch it.

15-15.

In the stands.

South Korean fans finally cheered.

In the first game, Nakamura Shota was in love, and they held on for the entire game.

"Yes! That's how we fight!"

"I knew this Japanese guy could play ball!"

"Go Japan! Long live Japan-Korea friendship!"

Shota Nakamura turned and walked back to the baseline.

His heart was racing. He wasn't nervous, but rather had a strange feeling—he had just scored.

Just one point.

But it was enough for him to catch his breath.

"continue!"

On the next ball, he used the same strategy. He served and volleyed, then pushed the ball down a wide cross-court line to his forehand side.

The ball hasn't landed yet.

A straight line through!

15-30.

Chen Jixian glanced at the person opposite him.

"Li Dongxun has been overused."

Oh shit.

I spent the whole morning dealing with online attacks the day before yesterday, I was about to throw up, and then these little Japanese came again?

If I don't hit you, who will I hit!

Shota Nakamura stood still.

All he knew was that the ball was as fast as a bullet, and the glimmer of hope that had just begun to emerge in his heart was extinguished in an instant.

"I can't access the internet."

"The coach said that J.Chen's chopping technique is not good..."

Then, during a baseline rally, he suddenly unleashed a backhand slice.

After the ball bounced up, it barely moved forward.

Chen Jixian rushed up from the baseline, and the moment his racket made contact with the ball, he knew something was wrong; the ball flew out of bounds.

30-30.

Chen Jixian looked down and glanced at the system UI.

[Cut shot: 1]

"Lack of experience, the touch was a bit too hard."

"But next time, there won't be a next time!"

Cheers erupted again from the stands.

Shota Nakamura felt that if he could just make one more cut, he would reach match point.

Today's indicators

Just one step away.

He used the same trick again, but this time Chen Jixian was in position beforehand—he was already on the field before the ball bounced.

In the upper right corner of your view, system parameters are flashing.

[Rhythm +1]

It worked.

Chen Jixian, chop shot return!

[Cut Ball +1] flashes.

The ball landed deep and spun heavily. Nakamura Shota was forced to the baseline, and his return shot was shallow. Chen Jixian stepped forward and sealed the victory with a forehand cross-court shot.

Nakamura cursed inwardly, "Fuck! They're not even in the same league when it comes to defensive shots. Who said J.Chen's defensive shots are bad?"

30-40

Break point!

"What's going on?"

"This Japanese guy is no good."

"As expected, only Kim Sung-joon can punish him."

"Damn it, we'll have to wait until the finals."

Shota Nakamura wiped the sweat from his palms.

He almost laughed.

It hasn't been long, and he's already been abandoned by South Korean viewers. Aren't people from the Korean Peninsula too pragmatic?

He continued serving.

Chen Jixian moved to the side, met the ball with his forehand, and used the force to push the ball back, which flew back just past the sideline.

Shota Nakamura lunged forward, but couldn't reach it.

He stood at the bottom line, head down, not daring to look at the audience.

He did have a chance just now; he gave his best performance to this service game.

He wanted to win.

But they still lost.

The scoreboard jumped.

2-0.

The third round.

Chen Jixian's serve.

He stood at the baseline and bounced the ball twice on the ground.

Someone in the stands blew a long whistle, followed by the noise of an inflatable baton being slapped. Someone shouted something in Korean, but it was unclear, though the tone was unfriendly.

Chen Jixian stopped his movement, straightened up, and looked at the referee.

The referee frowned and turned to the stands: "Thank you, quiet please."

The noise did not disappear.

Some people slammed the inflatable sticks louder, some hissed, and some shouted in Korean, "What right do you have to tell us what to do?"

The referee spoke again, his tone even sterner than before: "Ladies and gentlemen, please settle down. The players are ready to play."

(Ladies and gentlemen, please be quiet. The player is ready to serve.)

The boos grew louder.

The referee didn't say anything more, but just glanced at Chen Jixian—that look meant:

I tried my best.

Do as you please.

Chen Jixian was not one to swallow his anger. Besides, he was in the right now.

If you're in the right, don't let others off the hook!

He walked to the referee's chair, looked up, and said in a low but clear voice:

"You should eject the guys leading this, or expect a formal complaint after the match."

(You should expel those ringleaders, or wait for my complaint after the game.)

The referee glanced down at him.

He shrugged and replied in a low voice, "I've already called it. That's all I can do here."

(I've already warned you. This is all I can do here.)

Chen Jixian nodded: "Noted."

(I've made a note of it.)

Generally speaking, you could hear a pin drop when someone is serving. This group not only wanted to distract him, but also wanted to drown him out with noise.

The referee couldn't do anything about it.

I don't want to care.

The referee himself is also South Korean.

They might even create a fake account to insult him.

Chen Jixian looked away and patted the ball on the ground twice.

Want to take him down using underhanded tactics?

Something was burning in his eyes, but not a drop of it showed.

Chen Jixian,

Throw the ball,

Flat shot to the outside corner.

Ace!

15-0.

Boos from the stands

It felt like someone had slit my throat!

The inflatable sticks, whistles, and Korean swear words that were just shouting were all stuck in his throat the moment the ball hit the net.

The entire room was silent for a full second.

then,

The boos returned.

It was louder, more chaotic, and more out of control than before. Some people were slamming inflatable sticks onto seats, some were standing up and giving the middle finger to the baseline, and someone was shouting something in Korean.

They weren't booing the ace; they were furious.

The ball not only hit inside the penalty area, but it also hit them in the face. How arrogant they were just moments ago, how humiliating they are now!

Shota Nakamura glanced at the crazed Koreans.

His face turned green!

He knew that after losing today, some of the anger would also engulf him.

"I should have withdrawn from the competition."

Damn it!