The goddess of fate chose to stand on Mizutori Hato's side, letting him win the coin toss and claim the first serve.
Mizutori Hato's eyes kept darting around, making him look somewhat comical. Holding the ball, he gently tossed it, letting it bounce on the table four full times. His head was slightly lowered, but his eyes occasionally rolled upward as he tried to observe Wang Chao's current condition. From that angle, though, it looked to the audience as if he were constantly rolling his eyes, leaving them utterly baffled.
But Mizutori Hato certainly was not trying to stall for time. He was merely considering what kind of serve to use for the first ball.
If Wang Chao were still the Wang Chao of last year, Mizutori Hato would not have needed to think at all. He would have sent a long ball straight to Wang Chao's forehand baseline.
After all, that was how Lin Zijun had played against Wang Chao back then.
But the problem was that Wang Chao had displayed an entirely different style during the qualifiers these past two days, which left Mizutori Hato deeply confused.
Mizutori Hato was exceptionally intelligent. He was good at analyzing opponents, devising targeted strategies, and exploiting familiar rivals. The problem was that he could not tell which style Wang Chao was actually stronger at.
After all, the strongest opponent Wang Chao had faced at the Hong Kong Open had only been Zou Zhengyu. For the world number eight Mizutori Hato, Zou Zhengyu was still a little too weak.
Only after the referee blew the whistle to urge him on did Mizutori Hato reluctantly toss the ball properly and serve a long ball to the forehand baseline.
He felt that Wang Chao's performance over the past few days had been a smokescreen.