Wang Chao quickly adapted to life as a professional player.
Or rather, the life of a professional player was inherently more pleasant and comfortable than that of a player at the city team training base.
The reason was simple: minors were not allowed to participate in professional leagues.
So "Brother Chao," who had been considered relatively old at the city team, became the youngest of the five players as soon as he arrived at the Black Spade Q Club.
Over the next few days, the four players practiced against one another, and Gao Ming finally realized that Wang Chao probably had not been joking about those things he said on his first day.
Wang Chao had really abandoned the penhold forehand style and switched to a left-handed shakehand grip!
And in just one morning, he had beaten all three teammates, including Lu Jia, into submission.
"There's no way to play against you at all!" Gao Ming stood beside the table, marveling again and again. "Your offense is even fiercer than Wu Li's! Wang Chao, did you really beat Wu Li 4–1?"
Wang Chao smiled and nodded. "Chinese people don't lie to Chinese people."
"But that makes no sense." Gao Ming still shook his head. "That was He Jingping. He'd been at the training base for years and never even gave Wu Li a second glance. At first, we thought he was just too arrogant, but later, during the Jiangcheng stop of the World Tour, we personally watched five national players take turns crushing Wu Li. That was when we realized Wu Li really was nothing in He Jingping's eyes. The only people he respected were genuine national players."
He asked Wang Chao, "If He Jingping really took a liking to you, why haven't I heard that he accepted you as