The match took another bizarre turn.
Wang Chao gained the serve and unexpectedly sent over a short backspin ball he had never used before, landing it on Lin Zijun's left side.
The ball made Qin Huachang's scalp tingle, and he sucked in a sharp breath.
Only he knew what Wang Chao was doing.
Wang Chao was making a huge gamble. He was playing with fire.
He had handed Lin Zijun the chance to flick.
He wanted to see whether Lin Zijun still had the courage he had shown in the third game—whether he would flick it directly.
The serve was nearly perfect. It skimmed over the net and landed extremely close to it, to the point where even the theoretical trajectory for a flick barely existed.
But Wang Chao was not looking at Lin Zijun's success rate on the flick. He only wanted to see Lin Zijun's decision.
If Lin Zijun dared to flick, then even if he killed himself with that flick, Wang Chao would never again deliberately send a short ball to Lin Zijun's backhand.
But if Lin Zijun did not dare to flick, then... hehe!
Lin Zijun did hesitate, ever so slightly, in that instant. But his mind worked so fast that ordinary people could not see that hesitation at all. They only saw him naturally step forward, extend his racket, and play a short return.
It was a perfect short return, giving Wang Chao no chance to attack.
Yet Wang Chao let out a sigh of relief inwardly.
He was certain that something had gone wrong with Lin Zijun's mentality again.
"This kid's heart is really made of iron. Even if I were thirty years younger, I wouldn't dare play like that..." Qin Huachang clutched his chest, his old face slightly flushed and his breathing somewhat