Peninsula: Aiming for a Grand Slam

The Xinhua News Agency report was released on Thursday morning.

Once released, it caused a stir on the Chinese internet.

The title is not repeated.

Only one line: "Chen Jixian in the eye of the storm: Facing all difficulties, but his defenses were broken down by the word 'family'."

After facing a storm of public opinion, 17-year-old Chinese tennis player Chen Jixian achieved a resounding victory.

However, what was even more remarkable than his 6-0 record was his almost textbook-perfect composure when facing interviews.

Faced with a barrage of pointed questions from the South Korean media, Chen Jixian displayed a calmness and candor beyond his years.

"He said some very hurtful things about my friend. I don't want anyone else to get involved."

In his brief remarks, he clearly outlined the bottom line: neither to show weakness nor to incite conflict.

"I didn't have the right to throw that punch. Because I couldn't bear the consequences—the consequences would fall on her."

When confronted with questions about the controversy surrounding "violence," his logic reveals a heartbreaking clarity.

"I never even considered withdrawing from the competition for a second. The registration fee of 50 yuan and the deposit of 500 million yuan were all raised by others."

His candid and unvarnished words brought a few good-natured laughs to the otherwise tense atmosphere.

The young man, who acted with composure under immense pressure, almost perfectly deconstructed all the malice and blame.

However, when the Xinhua News Agency reporter switched to Mandarin and asked in the gentlest tone, "Is there anything you want to say to your family?" the tense defenses instantly cracked.

He had responded quickly to all the previous sharp exchanges. But this one question plunged him into a long silence.

He tried to speak, but only managed to utter a short, trembling syllable:

"mom."

That word didn't connect smoothly to the next sentence.

A certain emotion, suppressed deep in the throat, suddenly surged forth and blocked the vocal cords.

He pressed his lips together tightly, trying to control the uncontrollable trembling, and finally whispered out those fragmented words:

"I'm fine."

At that moment, the flashbulbs were still mechanically flashing, but not a single reporter rushed to ask any questions.

His cool composure crumbled instantly, and everyone present heard the barely concealed sob in his cry of "Mom."

Even the toughest armor in the eye of the storm eventually reveals its softest vulnerability in front of family.

……

At first, Chinese netizens simply applauded.

When that Xinhua News Agency report was first circulated back in China, the top comments section on Weibo was filled with applause and cheers.

"Hard-willed."

"This is what Chinese athletes should be like."

"If you've been bullied, use your ball to prove them wrong!"

Someone screenshotted his quote, "I won't withdraw. If I withdraw, I'll lose my registration fee," and captioned it: "The most pragmatic athlete in history."

The reposts were met with laughter.

Some people even translated the apology formations from Korean websites and compiled them into a collection titled "200,000 people insulted him, now they're lining up to apologize."

The comments section is full of:

"That felt great!"

Then, someone read the last few paragraphs.

A Xinhua News Agency reporter asked him what he wanted to say to his family.

He called out "Mom," then remained silent for a long time before saying, "I'm fine."

Another voice began to emerge in the comments section—

"I thought he would say a lot, but he only said one sentence: I'm fine."

"He was a senior in high school. He was cyberbullied by 20 people in South Korea and almost had to withdraw from the competition. Then he told his mother, 'I'm okay.'"

"Other people at seventeen will say, 'Mom, I'm okay.' I'm twenty-seven, and all I can say is, 'Mom, I want to go home!'"

"The last time I told my mom I was fine was when I was working overtime until 3 a.m.

This comment was pushed to the top, and the replies were all saying "Stop ripping people off, stop ripping people off."

then,

A new problem has arisen.

【who is she?

This problem didn't just appear out of thin air.

In the interview, he said, "I don't want others to get involved." Previously, South Korean media had dug up some blurry photos, but Chinese netizens hadn't seriously followed this storyline.

Now, following Xinhua News Agency's report, someone dug up an old post from two years ago on theqoo—he used his own photo as his profile picture to speak up for her.

The post was translated into Chinese and titled "When she was most isolated and helpless that year, he spoke first."

The comment section fell silent.

Someone wrote: "So, six months ago, when everyone was criticizing her, he stood up for her. Six months later, when everyone was criticizing him, he held on. Then he said, he never thought of giving up."

Others said, "He said, 'I don't want others to get involved,' not 'I don't want to get involved.' He's been shielding others from this."

Someone replied below: "That 'other person' is her."

This reply received 20,000 likes.

The video editors on Bilibili also did not remain silent.

Within days, the angst-themed montage was pushed to the top of the homepage's trending topics.

The opening GIF shows him standing at the baseline, his fingers gripping his racket tightly, with the following text underneath:

I had no right to throw that punch.

Then, the scene changes—

When Bae Joo-hyun was surrounded by reporters, she kept a cold face, walked through the crowd with her head down, and remained expressionless despite the flashes of light on her face.

The comments scrolled by:

"It turns out that her expression at that time wasn't aloof; it was just that she had been scolded too many times and had gotten used to it."

Finally, he called out "Mom".

The sound stopped.

The screen went dark.

The few seconds with the densest barrage of comments were when he struggled to squeeze out the words "I'm fine" after a period of silence.

The screen was filled with comments—

He gave her all his tenderness and kept all the pain to himself.

Another frequently quoted comment is:

"It's not that he doesn't want to talk about it, it's that he can't. Because if he does, her name will become a trending topic, and she's already been criticized too many times."

When the progress bar was halfway through, someone played back the moments he refused to mention her at the slowest speed.

A barrage of comments flashed by:

"The sweetness I ate before was his back as he practiced in the rain. Now I realize it was all to catch up with her resume."

(No, that was to save his aunt's house.)

The sweetest moments are outside the drama itself.

SM Entertainment has not issued an official statement, but a post has surfaced on an anonymous forum with a very short title:

"I heard she found him a coach."

The main text consists of only a few lines.

The gist of it is: At the beginning of the year, she asked a tennis coach she knew through her company to "persuade that boy to give up tennis and go back to Seoul National University."

The post did not name anyone.

But everyone knows who "she" and "he" are.

Another secret has been uncovered in the comments section:

"Chen Jixian sold all the photocards, but kept only the one featuring Bae Joo-hyun."

"What's even more suspicious is that this card was once marked as sold, then removed, and finally not sold at all."

"It's said that she was worried that Xiao Chen was going astray, so she pretended to buy her own membership card and asked him to meet her offline—but it turned out he was just pooling money to play basketball."

The comments section was very lively.

"This isn't opposition; it's concern for his future."

This one got pushed to the top spot.

"She was worried that playing tennis would jeopardize her future, and he was worried that she would be caught in a media storm. Both of them were trying to protect each other in their own way, both using the wrong methods, but both using their hearts correctly."

"She's not his agent, not his coach. She's just a woman who only breathes a sigh of relief when news pops up on her phone, and who does the math for him using rice balls and insulated bags."

"Unnie, I feel like I'm going astray too..."

On the Chinese internet, a group of people who don't watch tennis, idols, or even sports at all, now know two names.

Chen Jixian.

Bae Joo-hyun.

……

at the same time,

South Korea,

Daegu.

The hotel room was very quiet.

The curtains were only half drawn, and occasionally a Korean news report could be heard from next door, but the content was unclear.

Kim Sung-joon looked at today's news.

It would be a lie to say I'm not envious.

In his view, Chen Jixian seemed to have everything born – a flawless appearance, an innate feel for the ball, and now he also has the apology from South Korea and the expectations of his motherland.

If he had even one of those things, he wouldn't have needed to spend money on youth competitions.

The coach came over.

The voice was kept very low:

"Sungjun,

"You're not facing a teenage athlete, you're facing a walking check."

"Every ace he gets, every 'I won't back down,' and even his choked voice raise his value."

"The media portrayed him as a tragic hero, and all of South Korea felt guilty towards him."

"Defeat him, and all of this will be yours. His sponsorships, wildcards, and attention will instantly transfer to you."

"People will forget what he endured, they'll only remember you—Kim Sung-joon—what you ended!"