Promotion and Relegation Matches

Wu Li was twenty-one this year. He played extremely well, but his personality was far too quiet.

He lightly knocked on the half-open office door, walked in silently, and looked silently at Luo Zhihong without saying a word. Yet there was a faint trace of gloom between his brows. He had been training perfectly well when he was suddenly called away, which would affect the training plan he had set for himself that day.

"You..." Luo Zhihong pointed at him, wanting to curse him out and vent his frustration, but stopped himself halfway through. He knew scolding him would be useless.

That was simply the boy's personality. If it could have been changed, it would have changed two years ago when he joined the team.

But since he was here, Luo Zhihong had to say something. "Routine practice and an official match aren't the same. Do you understand that?"

Wu Li hesitated, then said somewhat unwillingly, "I understand."

"Especially when you're practicing with your training partners."

Luo Zhihong spoke earnestly. "They're sacrificing their own training time to help you improve. You need to respect them..."

Wu Li's lips moved, but he said nothing.

Luo Zhihong continued, "We all know you're good, but when you practice, can't you be just a little, a little nicer to them?"

Wu Li said, "Coach Luo, I..."

"Don't talk. Let me finish." Luo Zhihong cut him off. "During practice, what does it matter if you win or lose a point? Can't you ease up once in a while and let them win a few points? Would that really affect your training?"

Seeing that Wu Li wanted to speak again, he raised his voice. "Don't talk!"

Wu Li felt wronged, but in the end, he pressed his lips tightly together.

"Last time, you came to complain that Xiao Ping and Xiao Jian weren't good enough and couldn't serve the purpose of practice, so you wanted different training partners. But do you know something? I practically talked myself hoarse, and no one was willing to be your training partner. Only Xiao Ping and Xiao Jian agreed because they hadn't been at the base for long and were still timid, so I forced them to practice with you."

Luo Zhihong had a bellyful of grievances to pour out. "But look at what you've done. You give them a shutout every single day! You won't let them win even one point! One of their parents has come running to the base three times this month, and this time they outright threw a crying, screaming fit at me. No matter what, they refuse to let their kid play against you anymore."

He spread his hands and let out a long sigh. "What am I supposed to do with you now?"

Although Wu Li did not think he had done anything wrong, he knew he had indeed caused trouble for the head coach. After mumbling for a long time, he finally asked softly, "I heard there's a promotion and relegation match tomorrow?"

At that, Luo Zhihong was so angry he laughed. "Not bad, Wu Li. You've already set your sights on the new players? You beat Xiao Ping and Xiao Jian that hard on purpose, didn't you?"

Wu Li said nothing. He lowered his head and played dead, his meaning obvious: Criticize me however you want. Things were already like this, and you'd have to solve the problem eventually.

Unable to endure it any longer, Luo Zhihong kicked him in the backside and cursed with a laugh, "You little brat, get lost!"

After Wu Li left, Luo Zhihong could no longer sit still. He made another call. "Coach Wang, the slots for the promotion and relegation matches are out, right? Come over. Let's talk."

Early that morning, the promotion and relegation matches officially began.

For the Jiangcheng City Table Tennis Team, this was a rare occasion for main-team players and reserve players to compete on the same court. It was also a time when all the coaches gathered together.

There was no training that day. All the reserve players were present to watch the matches.

Aside from the three main-team players who had to compete, everyone else was free to do as they pleased. They could watch the matches or go work out; there were no mandatory arrangements.

Wang Chao looked toward a spot in the training hall from afar. He knew that the amiable, balding middle-aged man was Luo Zhihong, the head coach and highest-ranking figure at the base.

If nothing unexpected happened, that man would become his head coach after today's matches.

There was not much ceremony. Six players stepped forward directly: the top three reserve players, Wang Chao, Jiang Shan, and Tian Ye, along with the bottom three main-team players, Zhou Bo, Li Fang, and Gao Ming.

The pairings would be first-ranked reserve versus last-ranked main-team player, second-ranked reserve versus second-to-last main-team player, and so on.

In truth, this rule was not especially rigorous. It involved a certain amount of luck and coincidence. The fairest selection method would have been a six-player round robin.

However, promotion and relegation matches at every level in China had used this simple rule for many years without any changes. Chinese table tennis had also remained number one in the world, without any problems arising.

Since that was the case, Luo Zhihong naturally had no intention of deliberately doing something different this time.

In his view, this probably counted as some kind of "mysticism" in the world of ping pong. It might even have been a loophole in the rules intentionally left behind by the hidden big shots of the national team.

After all, who said luck was not part of strength?

Thus, the final matchups were:

Wang Chao vs. Gao Ming.

Jiang Shan vs. Li Fang.

Tian Ye vs. Zhou Bo.

Three matches, best of seven. The winners would be promoted to the main team, while the losers would be sent down to the reserve team. Simple and straightforward.

The three matches would be played one after another on the same table, making it convenient for the other players to watch up close, study them, and learn from them.

Wang Chao was the first to take the court. His opponent, Gao Ming, had an air of world-weariness on his face, as though his brows held thirty percent impatience, thirty percent ferocity, thirty percent confusion, and the faintest trace of madness.

That gave Wang Chao a vague guess.

Gao Ming was twenty-five this year. For a professional table tennis player, that was no longer particularly young. He was still muddling along in the city team, and his chances of entering the national team were practically nonexistent. It was therefore reasonable to assume that he was the sort of person Jiang Shan had mentioned before: someone planning to build up his strength at the base before playing in the Table Tennis First Division, treating it as a job to support his family.

Gao Ming served first, with a very standard short backspin serve.

Wang Chao did not attack immediately. He steadily pushed it back.

Gao Ming was also unwilling to initiate an attack. In this sort of exchange of short pushes, whoever attacked first had to bear the risk, so he pushed another short ball.

After just three exchanges in the first point, Wang Chao had basically grasped his opponent's style and mentality.

A typical old veteran. His playing style is relatively rigid. He doesn't seek merit, only avoids mistakes. His mentality is steady and he has plenty of patience. He wants to slowly look for an opportunity, then finish with a single decisive blow. But... if he plays like this, there won't be much uncertainty in the match. He'll be steady against weaker opponents, but against anyone stronger, he won't have a chance at all.

The point was extremely dull. They traded shots for seven exchanges before Gao Ming's return rose slightly too high, allowing Wang Chao to score directly with a flick.

Then, on the second point, Gao Ming again served short backspin. They once more pushed the ball back and forth, and after six exchanges, Wang Chao's return was slightly too high. Gao Ming directly flicked it for the point.

The first two points made it 1-1. Many main-team players who had come to see something new shook their heads at the edge of the court. Some yawned, while others turned and left.

A few days earlier, they had heard that a grassroots prodigy had joined the reserve team, and they had discussed it eagerly. Later, they heard that this grassroots prodigy had caused all sorts of trouble, making them even more curious. Thus, aside from Wu Li, that table tennis maniac who was still training with his head down, everyone else had come to watch the show.

And the result...

That was it?

Watching him play Gao Ming like this, with the match so dull, the main-team players could only feel that the reality failed to live up to the reputation.

Even Luo Zhihong could not help glancing at Wang Bin beside him.

"I can't figure out what this kid is thinking," Wang Bin explained softly. "But Coach Luo, I can guarantee that he may very well be the best prospect Jiangcheng City has had in the past three years."

Luo Zhihong shook his head with a faint laugh, unconvinced. "Better than Wu Li?"

Wang Bin froze. After thinking for a long while, he finally said, "I don't know. How about... we let them play each other?"