Early the next morning, the sun had not yet fully risen, and the late autumn air carried a crisp chill.
Captain Long had just reached the gates of the General Administration of Sport, before even stepping inside, when he saw two young players who had been selected less than half a year ago rushing out of the training building in a panic, as if they were fleeing some dreadful plague.
Well, aside from the Men's Team captain, who else could possibly make everyone steer clear?
The gathering had broken up past ten o'clock last night, and this kid was already here practicing so early today—was he trying to work himself to death?
Ma Long walked toward the training hall with a furrowed brow. It seemed yesterday's heart-to-heart drinking session had been completely ineffective, but today, no matter what, he was going to force that kid to take a day off.
The morning light was still faint, but the large overhead lights in the training hall blazed brightly, illuminating every single table year-round.
At a table tucked away in the corner, a tall, slender figure was constantly shifting up and down, practicing his serves. The table tennis ball produced a steady, rhythmic bouncing sound against the table, and a pile of small balls was already scattered across the floor on the opposite side.
Without looking closely, Ma Long knew whose stubborn and somewhat pathetic figure this was. He walked over with firm steps.
Seeing him approach, the athlete in the black hoodie did not stop moving, but he raised his head to greet him.
"Morning, Brother Long."
"The angle of your hook serve and the movement of your forearm are a bit different from before. Are you trying out a new serving technique?"
Ma Long was intimately familiar with Datou's technical characteristics—in fact, many of his movements and skills had been taught to him hand-in-hand—so he noticed the change at a glance.
"Yeah, I want to try altering the angle of the force application point to make the spin harder to read. Shasha showed me a few serves she studied from some European female players before; the angles are very clever, but the women lack a bit of power so they didn't look lethal enough. If I modify it slightly, it should work. Shasha said once I figured it out, I had to tell her..."
The man's raspy voice trailed off, and he did not continue.
That was right—the assignment Shasha had given him before hadn't even been finished when she turned and left. What was the point of scoring a hundred on his test paper if she wasn't there? But there was a stubborn drive inside him, a lingering hope that maybe, just maybe, if he did everything right, she wouldn't be so absolute in her departure.
After listening to Manyu and Gaoyuan last night, he hadn't slept a wink. Every time he closed his eyes, her face appeared—sometimes bright, sometimes stubborn, sometimes vulnerable.
What on earth could he do to make things right for her? What was it that she truly wanted?
She actually understood his feelings, as well as his stubbornness and impulsiveness. She was simply unwilling to let love become a shackle for either of them.
To sacrifice one's future and dreams for love, losing an independent and self-sufficient personality—such a love would eventually dissolve into nothingness.
Manyu's words last night had made him feel as though he had finally groped his way to the entrance of a labyrinth amidst towering, layered mountain paths. The road ahead was long and uncertain, but the Long March was walked one step at a time.
He had faced so many difficult hurdles, impossibly hard problems, and formidable opponents in the past, and he had pushed through every single one of them.
This time, the challenge between him and Shasha—he believed he could slowly work out the answer to this one, too. As long as Shasha was willing to give him time.
"Brother Long, I've thought about it. I'm going to train hard and strive to win next year's World Table Tennis Championships. I know Shasha wants me to win this singles title; she wants me to achieve the Grand Slam even more than I do myself."
"Also, I'll attend the mixed doubles training. As for the partner selection, I'll follow the coaching staff's arrangements."
Wang Chuqin raised his head. There were still plenty of bloodshot veins in his eyes, but his gaze was bright.
"And, I'd like to ask for three days off."
Ma Long looked at Wang Chuqin. Although the kid still looked a bit worn around the edges, he seemed to have shaved, styled his hair, and changed into an outfit that was much easier on the eyes.
His entire spirit and demeanor had undergone a dramatic transformation compared to yesterday.