Sparring Partner Trouble

The next morning, sixteen players stood in neat rows on the courts at the Jiangcheng City Training Base, waiting for the coaches to announce the new training plan.

Among them were the brothers Xiao Ping and Xiao Jian, standing beside Wang Chao.

The brothers were both somewhat timid and still young—one was fifteen, the other sixteen. They had joined the team together two months ago, then agreed to be Wu Li's sparring partners after being "tricked and swindled" by Luo Zhihong.

Over the following month, the two brothers broke down three times.

They were in fairly good spirits today, though their eyes kept drifting toward Wang Chao beside them.

Both were like startled birds. Yesterday, they had called the coaches one by one, only relaxing after confirming that they would not be needed as sparring partners going forward.

But they had also learned that the new sparring partner personally chosen by the head coach was the newcomer, Wang Chao.

In fact, many people knew the news. Li Shaoqin, standing at the other end of the line, was filled with malicious delight.

"Aren't you amazing? Don't you have all kinds of fancy tricks? What good are they now?"

"Who told you to deliberately throw the match? You played that game against Gao Ming like absolute crap."

"Didn't see this coming, did you, kid? You're about to become that ball maniac's sparring partner!"

"You're about to find out what real cruelty is!"

The coaches were still huddled together, seemingly discussing something—and arguing rather fiercely at that. The players grew uneasy and began whispering among themselves.

"Hey, Brother Chao." Xiao Ping spoke softly. "My brother and I are treating you to lunch."

Wang Chao was baffled. "Why?"

"Because..." Xiao Ping found it hard to say. His younger brother, Xiao Jian, cut in from beside him, "Don't ask so much. Anyway, we have to thank you. We'll go to Lehua Restaurant by the base entrance. Order whatever you want—there's no spending limit today."

Wang Chao was utterly confused, but faced with good food, his body honestly made the decision for him. "Sure. Thanks."

At that moment, the coaches finally reached a consensus.

The coaches responsible for daily training stepped back, while Head Coach Luo Zhihong walked to the front of the line. His gaze swept over the players' faces again and again. Only after three or four passes did it finally, with great difficulty, settle on Jiang Shan. "Jiang Shan."

"Here!" Jiang Shan answered spiritedly.

"You'll train with Wu Li this week." Luo Zhihong forced the words out.

Jiang Shan's eyes flew wide open.

Luo Zhihong patted him on the shoulder, his tone unusually gentle. "Play well. Train well. I have faith in you."

"No, why..." Jiang Shan tried to protest anxiously.

"Trust me." Luo Zhihong looked deeply into his eyes. "You're a great fit."

But Jiang Shan refused to accept his fate. He shouted, "Head Coach, I think..."

"I don't care what you think. I care what I think." The hand Luo Zhihong had placed on his shoulder suddenly tightened, making Jiang Shan grimace in pain. "If I say you can do it, then you can do it!"

Jiang Shan still wanted to resist, but when he saw the stern warning filling the head coach's eyes at such close range, he was ultimately frightened into silence.

Li Shaoqin was dumbfounded.

This wasn't how it was supposed to go...

This wasn't what the news leaked from the other coaches yesterday had said...

Had some unknown change occurred?

He could not accept this reality. Gathering his courage, he said, "Coach Luo, I think..."

"You have an objection???"

Luo Zhihong's voice suddenly rose, and his gaze locked steadily onto Li Shaoqin. It scared him into swallowing the rest of his sentence, and he immediately realized he had been careless.

How could I stick my neck out at a time like this? What if Coach Luo suddenly changes his mind and sends me to be that lunatic's sparring partner?

Luo Zhihong did not do anything that wicked.

He simply did something even more wicked...

"I was just about to mention you, Li Shaoqin." Luo Zhihong wore a kindly smile. "I heard that yesterday, as a veteran player, you had a friendly match with one of the newcomers. That's a good thing. We should treat new players with the warmth of spring."

Li Shaoqin vaguely sensed that something was wrong.

He was an old hand on the team and knew the head coach far too well.

Whenever the head coach smiled like that, it meant someone was about to get schemed against.

Luo Zhihong continued, "Since you've already become friends, you can train with Wang Chao this week."

He put heavy emphasis on the word "with."

Leaders always spoke in roundabout ways. Their true meaning had to be interpreted for oneself.

Li Shaoqin did not resist. He accepted his fate.

Even Jiang Shan could be sacrificed. Who was Li Shaoqin in comparison?

So, ten minutes later, everyone had been assigned. Luo Zhihong left, the courts were divided up, and Li Shaoqin and Wang Chao arrived at the same table, with a coach standing beside them and watching closely.

This was to prevent someone from training halfheartedly out of dissatisfaction.

"Come on." Li Shaoqin sighed and beckoned to Wang Chao. "What do you want to practice? I'll work with you."

He had thought Wang Chao would keep humiliating him with all sorts of fancy tricks.

But that was not what happened.

All morning, Wang Chao played in an extremely straightforward manner. He kept doing multiball drills.

A basket of balls sat beside Li Shaoqin. There were five hundred in a basket. He fed them one by one, and Wang Chao smashed them back one by one, practicing placement, transitions, speed, and stamina, without any fancy techniques at all.

An hour later, Wang Chao was drenched in sweat. He signaled for Li Shaoqin to rest first, then sat on a nearby bench, breathing in huge gulps of air.

Li Shaoqin was somewhat puzzled. He slowly walked over, sat beside him, and asked, "What exactly are you trying to do?"

Wang Chao gave him a strange look. "Practice, obviously."

Li Shaoqin blinked. He felt that was not the answer he had wanted, but if he asked again, he did not know what to ask.

So ten minutes later, they resumed training. More multiball drills. They rested when tired, then continued once they had recovered. By the end of the morning, Wang Chao had dried off and soaked through again and again. He had drunk five large bottles of water alone.

Li Shaoqin had barely even sweated. For him, this kind of sparring was far too easy—so easy that it felt a little unreal.

When the lunch break arrived, Wang Chao even said "thank you" before leaving.

Li Shaoqin stood there for a long time before suddenly laughing at himself.

Was I just being self-important?

He came here to practice. Why would he have time to hold a grudge against me?

The cafeteria was bustling at noon, filled with lively noise.

Jiang Shan was acting completely out of character today. His tray held glistening twice-cooked pork, bright red spicy chicken, and a huge mound of white rice, with a large bar of white chocolate beside it. At a glance, everything on it was the enemy of weight loss.

"What's wrong with you?" Wang Chao touched his forehead. "Did something get to you?"

"Yeah, something got to me!" Jiang Shan nodded viciously. His eyes were slightly red, glinting with bloodthirsty light. "I have to eat and drink my fill, build up my strength, and beat that bastard to death this afternoon!"

Wang Chao could not help laughing. "Did Wu Li push you over the edge?"

"Is he worthy?" Jiang Shan's voice suddenly grew louder. Then, realizing they were in the cafeteria, he quickly lowered it again and whispered, "I just can't be bothered to stoop to his level."

Wang Chao merely smiled without saying anything.

He had heard of Wu Li.

Wu Li was the undisputed top player at the Jiangcheng City Training Base. It was said that several provincial team coaches thought highly of him. His greatest trait on the court was his ruthlessness.

If he could kill the point with one shot, he would never take a second.

If he could win a match, he would never concede defeat.

He scrutinized every ball and calculated every ball. Even during ordinary practice, he never showed the slightest carelessness.

It was said that he recorded every practice session. At night, he would replay the footage again and again, examining exactly what had gone wrong with the points he lost. Then the next day, he would repeat them over and over, correcting them over and over.

He was meticulous, demanding, rigorous to the point of obsession.

Most terrifying of all, he had incredible stamina. Supposedly, he could run a marathon without resting, then come straight back and play an official match.

Legend had it that over two years, he had worn out two paddles and three pairs of shoes, and had not gone home even once.

That was how he earned the nickname "ball maniac."