Peninsula: Aiming for a Grand Slam

"exist."

Bae Joo-hyun stared at that word.

She didn't know whether to be happy or annoyed. But one thing was clear—she had gotten herself into big trouble.

Bae Joo-hyun looked at the word and took a deep breath.

type:

"How much is Irene's photocard?"

"Nine thousand."

She bit her lip, typed, deleted, and typed again.

"I see you still have reference books listed on your homepage. Aren't you going to prepare for the college entrance exam? You're even selling these."

Sent. Read.

I waited for about ten seconds.

"It's just sitting there unused. Are you going to buy it or not?"

She twitched her finger, stared at the line of text, and asked again:

"Aren't you a fan of Bae Joo-hyun? Why are you selling her photocards? Have you unfollowed her?"

Read.

The "typing" indicator flashed briefly.

Stopped.

It flashed again.

[At this point, I hope readers will remember our domain name: ①⓪①ⓚⓚⓢ.ⓒⓞⓜ]

"Keep just one copy."

Bae Joo-hyun stared at the line of text.

Keep one.

Is it that one?

She guessed it, but she was still uneasy.

She knew she shouldn't ask anymore, because asking again would be too obvious, but her finger had already struck.

Which one should we keep?

send.

Read.

waited for so long.

He replied.

"What's it to you!"

She read that sentence twice.

He was like a wall.

My finger hovered above the screen for a moment, then fell back down.

"Can we trade tonight?"

send.

Read.

About ten seconds passed.

"No, we're outside, and Xiao Ka isn't with me."

She stared at the words "outside".

"Still out so late? Where are you?"

Read.

waited for so long.

No reply.

She put her phone down.

My heart is beating very fast.

He said he was outside.

Not at home, not at school. It's 10 PM, and a high school senior is outside!

where?

What are you doing?

she does not know.

But Bae Joo-hyun knew one thing—through the screen, she couldn't even touch a single hair on his head.

Bae Joo-hyun picked up her phone and typed the last line:

"What time tomorrow afternoon at the coffee shop in the Seongsu-dong container district?"

After sending the message, she placed her phone face down on the sofa.

A moment later, my phone vibrated.

Turn it over.

"Three o'clock."

She typed "OK" and sent it.

Then I put my phone down.

……

……

Saturday morning.

Ace Tennis Stadium.

The receptionist was the same curly-haired middle-aged man, yawning. He paused for a moment when he saw Chen Jixian.

"It's you again?"

"Mm." Xiao Chen nodded.

"Didn't you just come here yesterday?"

"We have to practice again today."

The older man glanced at him, asked no further questions, and handed him the keys and the paddle.

Field No. 3

Chen Jixian put his things down and set up the ball machine. It was still on the slowest setting, ball speed 30, and the ball should land on his backhand side.

He stood at the bottom line and took a deep breath.

Three hours.

The middle-aged man came over and took a look. He stood outside the barbed wire fence, a cigarette dangling from his lips, but he didn't light it.

After watching for a while, he shook his head.

"It's another backhand."

gone.

Around 1 p.m., Chen Jixian stopped.

He glanced at the panel.

[Current backhand qualification rate: 1033/10000.]

One thousand and thirty-three.

Thursday 173, Friday 500, this morning 360. Still 9,000 short of 10,000.

He turned off the ball machine and picked up the balls from the ground, putting them back in the basket. His shoulders were burning, and his wrists were a little sore.

He put the racket back on the front.

The middle-aged man took the racket and glanced at him:

"Come again tomorrow?"

Chen Jixian shook his head.

The middle-aged man had an "I knew it" look on his face: he'd seen plenty of young people who only had a three-minute attention span.

"I have something to do this afternoon, I'll come back tonight."

"night?"

"Um."

The man paused for a moment, then put the racket back on the stand:

"Okay, I'll save it for you."

Chen Jixian returned home, took a shower, changed into a clean T-shirt, and dried his hair halfway.

Xiao took the card out of the drawer and checked it—it was a regular version, not the one from 20201022.

The photocards I pulled out of the album were perfectly intact, without any creases or scratches. I put them back in the card protector and slipped them into my pocket.

My phone vibrated.

"Let's go, see you at three o'clock."

He typed: "Coming right away."

The location was chosen by the other party.

A coffee shop in Seongsu-dong, located in the container district.

Chen Jixian glanced around as he entered. The café was small, dimly lit, and adorned with unidentified oil paintings. It was a weekday afternoon, and the café wasn't crowded.

A girl was sitting in a corner booth. Her hat was pulled low, and her mask covered most of her face.

Chen Jixian walked over.

"Buying a small card?"

The girl looked up.

Then pull down your mask.

Chen Jixian was stunned.

Bae Joo-hyun.

"……Hold."

He wasn't cursing her; Chen Jixian was cursing himself.

He told his idol in a private message—

"What's it to you!"

"Are you buying a card or checking my household registration?"

Moreover, Bae Joo-hyun found out that he was selling Irene photocards!

She ignored Chen Jixian's reaction. Her eyes were fixed on him, her eyelashes casting a small shadow under the light.

The nose bridge is straight, and the jawline is beautiful. There is no makeup, or only very light makeup; the lip color is slightly light.

"Did something happen to you?"

Chen Jixian placed the card on the table and pushed it over:

"Your card, nine thousand."

She glanced at it.

well.

That's not it.

She looked at Chen Jixian:

"I asked you if something happened?"

"It's nothing."

"Why do we need to raise money?"

Tutoring classes.

Bae Joo-hyun didn't say anything, she just looked at him.

Then she blinked, her eyelashes drooping and then lifting again:

"Selling reference books during senior year of high school. Attending tutoring classes while selling reference books?"

Chen Jixian remained silent.

Someone was grinding coffee beans in the café, making a buzzing sound. A painting of the sea hung on the wall.

Her eyes weren't pure black; they had a hint of brown, which he noticed at the autograph session. That day, she was wearing a white sweater, and as she took the album, she looked up at him.

Pretend you don't know them.

Then he bowed his head and signed the date.

2020.10.22.

Now, she is sitting across from him.

She wasn't wearing a white sweater, but a gray hoodie with the hood pulled low, a few strands of hair falling out from the brim and sticking to the side of her face.

What is she after?

Chen Jixian's throat was a little dry.

"I'm practicing tennis."

She paused for a moment, her eyelashes trembling slightly.

It wasn't drug use, nor was it loan sharking—it wasn't one of the worst possibilities she was thinking of.

Just practicing tennis.

The weight on my heart has been lifted.

"How long have you been practicing?"

"...less than 10 days."

Chen Jixian didn't keep track of the days, but he understood one thing: if he didn't complete the "10000 Backhand" training within 10 days, his aunt's house would be gone.

The house is still there.

So it took less than 10 days.

Bae Joo-hyun looked at him:

"Seventeen years old, zero experience, no coach, I raised the money to train myself." She paused for a moment, "How far do you think I can go?"

He didn't speak.

She wasn't objecting; she was calculating the costs and benefits for herself. Chen Jixian, however, couldn't answer.

He was silent for a few seconds:

I don't know how far I can go.

"But I want to leave."

Having witnessed the world of +11 backhand once, and seen the spectacle of a professional top player, he could never return. Indeed, he was drawn to that world, dreaming of one day achieving +11 backhand tennis not through the system, but through his own efforts.

Forehand is also acceptable.

He's not picky.

Bae Joo-hyun was silent for a moment:

"Less than ten days? You practiced for less than ten days and you think you're a genius?"

"I learned pretty quickly..."

"Why didn't you apply to Seoul National University?"

"I didn't say I wouldn't take the exam."

"Senior year of high school, practicing tennis every day, aiming for Seoul National University?" She looked at him. "Do you know what Seoul National University's acceptance rate is?"

he knows.

Two percent.

His mother reads this every time she calls.

"I will not give up my studies."

She said, "Where do you find the time?"

He couldn't say.

The extended battery pack was keeping him alive.

Study kit? I don't have time for that, go away.

However, Chen Jixian could not say anything about this part.

He could only grit his teeth:

"squeeze."

Bae Joo-hyun looked at him for a few seconds without asking any further questions. Then she lowered her eyes, her eyelashes covering that little bit of brown, before looking up again:

Do you know how big the difference is between amateur and professional?

Before Chen Jixian could answer.

She continued:

"During my trainee period, the company hired a physical trainer who liked playing tennis."

"He's been playing for over ten years, won a championship in a neighborhood tournament, and most people can't even return his serve."

She paused for a moment.

"Later, the company changed its physical trainer."

"A former professional player, retired for several years. He's gained weight and can't run as fast anymore."

She turned the coffee cup halfway around:

"That amateur coach played a game with him. He didn't win a single game, and he didn't get a single point."

Chen Jixian remained silent.

He has seen that world.

The moment when the paradigm shifts and takes over the body. The feeling of the ball bouncing off the racket face in a level 11 backhand, the position of the hitting point, and the timing of wrist tension.

It's not just about "knowing".

He "went there"!

He didn't know how thick the wall of 800 people was, but he knew the distance between amateur and professional.

and,

He crossed it.

It wasn't through practice, but through systematic initiation.

It happened inexplicably, but it just happened—the victim was a Genshin Impact account worth 1200 yuan.

He wasn't outside the wall she was referring to.

He was inside the wall.

But I can't say that.

Bae Joo-hyun looked at Chen Ji-xian.

When he said "squeeze," he looked down, staring at the watermark on the table. It was as if there was something in the watermark that could help him explain it.

Bae Joo-hyun has seen people like that; they won't turn back until they hit a brick wall, and even then, they might not turn back.

She decided to play the role of the wall.

"I don't know anything about tennis, but I know people who do. Play a game with them."

Chen Jixian looked at her, a little puzzled:

"What do you mean?"

"You win. I'll lend you the money, interest-free, and you can pay it back whenever you want."

"What if we lose?"

She didn't answer.

If he loses, he'll know which side of the wall he's on.