Arrogance and Prejudice

The day after the assessment, the entire base was filled with a relaxed, leisurely atmosphere.

Wang Chao jogged lazily around Jiang Shan's practice table, watching the ball while making small movements to loosen his somewhat stiff body.

He had no training assignment today, and Li Shaoqin had vanished off to who knew where.

At around nine o'clock, Wang Chao received a temporary notice: Luo Zhihong wanted to see him.

"It wasn't me who wanted you. Coach Jiang Long from the provincial team wants to see you."

In the office, Luo Zhihong closed the door and pulled Wang Chao aside to give him a quiet warning. "Coach Jiang Long came down here to recruit exceptional talent. If he takes a liking to you, you'll have the chance to go to our Hubei Provincial Team's training base this winter for two weeks of closed-door special training. If you perform well during the training, you might even secure a direct spot on the provincial team before next July's promotion and relegation matches."

He went on and on before finally saying, "In short, make sure you're humble and polite later. Don't be so disrespectful as you are when you talk to me. Coach Jiang Long isn't like me—he cares a lot about rules. Don't offend him."

Wang Chao nodded, then soon entered another office and saw the stern middle-aged man he had encountered several times at the court.

"You're here?" Jiang Long was indeed a man of few smiles. Sitting upright behind his large desk, he assumed the posture of a superior receiving a subordinate. He merely gave Wang Chao a slight nod and said curtly, "Sit."

Wang Chao sat on the sofa beside him. He did not sprawl back carelessly, but neither did he sit timidly on the edge. He gave Jiang Long the proper respect and took the initiative to ask, "Did you need something from me?"

Jiang Long said nothing. His gaze was fixed intently on the laptop screen before him.

From Wang Chao's angle, he could only see the hard shell on the back of the laptop, but the sound coming from it made it clear that it was footage of yesterday's match between himself and Wu Li.

Jiang Long did not speak, and neither did Wang Chao. Before they knew it, five minutes had passed. Only after one game had ended did Jiang Long pause the recording, turn his gaze to Wang Chao, frown slightly, and ask, "I heard you were originally a high school student taking the college entrance exam this year?"

Wang Chao gave a quiet "Mm."

"Civilian players have many hidden issues. Their fundamentals aren't solid, and they're generally too old. Of course, those aren't real problems. As long as you're obedient in the future, train hard, rebuild your fundamentals, and correct your form, you'll still have a future."

Jiang Long maintained an aloof manner. After a pause, he asked, "How are your grades?"

Wang Chao did not hide it. "On the last mock exam, I estimated I got around three hundred points."

"Oh..." Jiang Long drew out the sound meaningfully. The arrogance in his gaze toward Wang Chao deepened as he smiled. "So, the academic path is closed to you. Table tennis is the second way out you've chosen, right?"

Wang Chao said nothing.

He knew Jiang Long probably meant no harm, but what was with that tone, as if he had seized some weakness of Wang Chao's?

"Then you need to put even more effort into it. Those folk methods you used before, those flashy but empty tricks—discard what needs to be discarded and change what needs to be changed. Professional players cannot tolerate that kind of messy nonsense."

Jiang Long thought for a moment, then casually added, "For example, that shot of yours... yes, that one... The posture is too ugly, and the force generation isn't scientific. Don't use it again in the future. Otherwise, I'd be embarrassed to tell people you were recommended by me."

Wang Chao glanced at the screen Jiang Long had turned toward him and saw his ugly hook shot.

In Jiang Long's view, he had already treated Wang Chao very favorably. Over the past decade, everyone he had recommended had been a promising prospect from a sports school. This was the first time he had decided to recommend a civilian prodigy.

He had made it clear that he wanted to recommend Wang Chao for special training. What greater kindness could there be?

Next, the other party should naturally stand up and thank him. That was the rule.

And if Wang Chao visited him at the base hotel that evening and brought along some "local specialties," that would show even greater understanding of the rules.

Coaches and athletes were like teachers and students. Respecting one's teacher was only natural.

But to his surprise, Wang Chao not only remained seated, but also looked somewhat doubtful as he asked, "This shot... what's unscientific about the way it generates force?"

Jiang Long froze for a moment, then immediately frowned. "Wang Chao, you haven't received professional training, so there are many basic theories you don't understand. Is this the time for you to ask such questions? You should be more humble and obedient. I'm a provincial-level coach—would I lie to you?"

Wang Chao still did not comply. After a few seconds of silence, he said, "How about... we find a table, and I demonstrate it again? Then you can take another look?"

"Wang Chao!" Jiang Long's anger rose for no apparent reason in an extremely short time. "Do you understand, or do I?"

Wang Chao was rather speechless.

Table tennis coaches generally had quite a temper.

That was because table tennis, like any other field, had barriers of specialized knowledge. When these coaches talked with laymen, they often explained themselves until their mouths were dry, only for the other side to remain unable to understand. Then the layman would throw out a pile of utter nonsense to refute them, making their tempers flare and their blood pressure rise.

It was the classic case of a bronze-ranked player teaching a king-ranked player how to play.

Over time, coaches naturally became more short-tempered. Knowing that many theories could not be explained to outsiders, they simply stopped trying. Once someone took the initiative to raise the subject, they would lash out at them and use their status to suppress them.

There were few gentle and refined people in sports, because athletes were hot-blooded, mischievous, and unruly. If you weren't fierce enough, you simply couldn't keep that bunch of little monkeys in line.

But all of that had one prerequisite: you had to be right before you had the right to lose your temper.

Jiang Long had happened to gone wrong precisely there.

He said the hook shot was unscientific, but in another world, it was already a technique recognized across the globe. Its movement might indeed have looked a little ugly, but it worked.

More importantly, Jiang Long could never have imagined that the teenager before him contained the soul of a world-class master coach.

How could Wang Chao possibly be intimidated by a coach of Jiang Long's caliber?

The office fell silent, and the atmosphere became somewhat oppressive. Jiang Long leaned back, hiding his body behind the large desk, leaving only his low voice drifting out. "Young athletes who refuse to listen to advice like this... I may need to reconsider that recommendation spot."

Wang Chao remained calm and did not show the slightest disrespect. He stood, gave a small bow, and said, "No matter what, as a professional athlete, I'm grateful for your regard and hope I can have this opportunity."

A faint snort came from behind the desk. Then Jiang Long waved a hand listlessly and said, "You can leave now... Oh, ask Jiang Shan to come in for me."

After leaving, Wang Chao turned and went to Luo Zhihong's office. He first asked Luo Zhihong to notify Jiang Shan, then recounted his entire conversation with Jiang Long in full detail.

Luo Zhihong was depressed.

"Didn't I tell you to be more humble? Why wouldn't you listen? He's a man who cares about saving face. You just had to go along with what he said." Luo Zhihong sighed repeatedly. "Do you know he isn't the only coach from the provincial team responsible for scouting at the grassroots level? The spots in his hands are limited too. Each team can recommend at most two people. Wu Li has already taken one, and the other... the other..."

He did not finish, but Wang Chao understood.

Luo Zhihong had certainly recommended him for the other spot. Yet Wang Chao had messed it up, and Jiang Long had deliberately told him to summon Jiang Shan. The meaning was obvious: the second spot would go to Jiang Shan.

"Then why did you choose me instead of Jiang Shan?" Wang Chao asked.

"Is that what you should be worrying about right now?"

Luo Zhihong looked as though he hated iron for failing to become steel. He raised his arm, seemingly intending to flick Wang Chao on the forehead, but ultimately decided they were not familiar enough for that and lowered it awkwardly. "Jiang Shan is still young, and his skills aren't up to par yet. He only placed seventh in this round robin. He can wait another two years, but you... you're already eighteen."

Eighteen really was no longer young...

China's table tennis scene was overflowing with talent, filled with shining stars. Luo Zhihong remembered clearly that over the past twenty years, nearly every table tennis player who had grown into a national team star had already made a name for themselves on the world stage before turning eighteen.

The World number one, Sun Tianlong, was an exception. He was a late bloomer.

But how could a legendary figure like the Dragon Team, enduring at the top for so long and personally acknowledged by Sakura Country's table tennis world as a "hexagonal warrior," serve as an ordinary point of reference?

That was why Luo Zhihong was truly anxious. He wished he could send Wang Chao into the provincial team by next July.

Thanks to "Book Friend 007" and "Purple Xiao Tianmiao" for their monthly tickets.