Ariake Tennis Forest Park, Centre Court.
On the day of the final, the stands were almost full.
Although the Tokyo Open is not a top-tier tournament, the finals drew many tennis fans to the venue.
In the very center of the stands, an area was cordoned off by staff from the Japan Tennis Association, where several middle-aged men in suits were sitting.
Next to it was a private room belonging to Wilson's Japan branch. Tanaka sat inside, with a laptop in front of him, the screen displaying real-time sales data.
Lin Yan and Zhou Zhou sat side by side in the commentary booth.
Zhou Zhou wore a dark casual suit today, and her hair was styled neatly.
"Mr. Zhou Zhou, what are your thoughts on today's final match?" Lin Yan asked.
Zhou Zhou thought for a moment:
"Statistically, Cheng Che's performance in this tournament has been dominant. He hasn't lost a set in seven matches. His serve, baseline game, and net play are all among the best. But today's opponent is different. He is facing Lucas Becker, ranked 70th in the ATP rankings, a 28-year-old Germany, right-handed, and a baseline player. This is the first time Cheng Che has faced such a strong opponent."
"Where do you think the key to victory or defeat lies?"
"Serve," Zhou Zhou said decisively. " Becker's first serve percentage ranks second in this tournament, only behind Cheng Che. If Cheng Che can hold his serve and find a breakthrough in his service games, the match will fall into his rhythm."
As soon as he finished speaking, the exit of the players' tunnel lit up.
Becker emerged from the shadows.
He was very tall, about 1.9 meters, with broad shoulders and black wristbands wrapped around his arms.
He had short, dark brown hair and a light stubble on his chin.
He was wearing a dark blue sports vest and dark shorts, and carrying a racket bag in his right hand.
His steps were heavy, each one firm and steady.
As he walked out, he raised his right hand and waved towards the stands.
The Japan man was the first to react.
Several middle-aged men sitting in the west wing stood up, clapped, and called his name in Japanese.
Scattered cheers emerged from different corners, but that was about it.
The female audience members remained seated, neither moving nor shouting. Several girls even looked down at their phones.
Becker seemed to sense this coldness as well.
His expression didn't change much, but his waving motion was a beat faster than before, as if he wanted to end this segment quickly.
A few comments scrolled by.
[ Becker has entered the stadium, and the male fans are quite enthusiastic.]
[But the female audience members didn't seem to react much.]
[That's normal; this is Japan, Cheng Che has a huge fan base.]
You'll know when Cheng Che comes out.
Then Cheng Che walked out of the passage.
He was wearing a white sports vest, dark gray shorts, and black and white tennis shoes.
He had a black tennis bag slung over his shoulder, and his right hand held a Blade V10, his fingers resting on the racket neck.
Sunlight streamed through the gaps in the roof, outlining a clean silhouette of his profile.
The " Stars Surrounding the Moon " effect began the moment I stepped onto the field.
The image of Sapiosexual Boy added a layer of clear, intellectual depth to his features.
The aura of Champion hung heavy over the entire stadium.
[ Camera Language ] The angle at which he looked up was just right for the best shot.
[ Star of the Court ] put him into match mode as soon as he entered the arena.
The " Sunny Boy " vibe of [ Boy of Many Styles ] gives him a perfectly curved smile.
His Tolerance Makes Greatness makes him pleasing to the eye for everyone who sees him.
Then he smiled.
The female spectators in the stands erupted in cheers.
A Japan girl with a ponytail stood up, cupped her hands around her mouth, and called out in Japanese, " Cheng Che- kun--!"
Several girls nearby stood up and shouted in English, "Cheng Che! So handsome!"
A little further away, a group of Xia Country students holding banners in Chinese shouted:
"Go Cheng Che! Cheng Che will win!"
There was also a girl in a white coat who shouted in a high-pitched voice, using a mix of three languages:
Cheng Che, I love you! Keep it up!
The entire venue erupted in cheers.
Becker, standing behind the baseline, watched this scene, and his expression finally changed.
He looked down, patted his racket, and turned his gaze back to his own half of the court.
Lin Yan remained silent for a moment in the commentary booth.
Then he spoke, his voice filled with an indescribable emotion.
"Professor Zhou Zhou, did you hear that? Japanese, English, and Chinese—three languages are all calling out the same name."
Zhou Zhou nodded:
"I heard it. I've played professionally for ten years and seen a lot of home-field advantage, but to be honest, this is the first time I've ever seen a foreign player receive such cheers at an away game."
"He conquered the Japan audience with his skill," Lin Yan said. "He fought his way up from the qualifiers, winning all seven matches without losing a single set. He forced Nakamura Takuma to retire, made Inoue Kenta cry, and even made the Czech dark horse say, 'You're a wall.' These Japan were truly impressed by his game."
The live chat was quiet for two seconds, then it started flooding with comments.
[Mr. Lin Yan, are you sure you relied on your abilities?]
[He definitely has the talent, but the main thing is probably his face.]
[Hahaha, Mr. Lin Yan, do you even believe that yourself?]
I admit he's very strong, but I screamed because he's handsome.
Please don't expose Teacher Lin.
[Talent + Looks + Physique + Charisma = Cheng Che ]
[I'm a woman, am I watching the game? I'm watching the people.]
In the third row of the stands, Su Miaoyin held up the small red flag, a smile playing on her lips.
There were two empty seats next to her, which had been empty until now.
The empty seat has now been filled by two people.
Lin Lin and Zhao Xiaoman returned from the restroom.
Lin Lin was still holding a drink in her hand. After sitting down, she glanced at the court and then suddenly grabbed Su Miaoyin's arm.
"He came out? He just came out? I didn't see him!"
"You missed it," Su Miaoyin said.
Did you take the picture?
Su Miaoyin held up her phone; a video was playing on the screen.
She pressed the record button just as Cheng Che appeared.
Lin Lin snatched the phone and rewound to look at it again.
When Cheng Che appeared, her mouth formed an "O" shape.
Zhao Xiaoman leaned over for a look, then took out her phone. "I want to take pictures too. I'll take lots of them during the match later."
Spring City, Clearwater Bay Residential Complex.
Jiang Xue sat on the sofa with the TV on, showing the live broadcast of the Tokyo Open finals.
Cheng Jianguo sat next to her, his hand gripping the remote control tightly, his knuckles turning white.
"We're out," Jiang Xue said.
Cheng Jianguo nodded without saying anything.
He stared at the screen, watching his son walk out of the players' tunnel, watching the spectators holding banners in the stands, and watching the scrolling comments at the bottom of the screen.
Then he turned his head and quickly wiped the corner of his eye.
"Look at you," Jiang Xue said.
"I didn't cry." Cheng Jianguo put down the remote control, his voice a little hoarse. "My eyes were just dry."
Capital City, Guo Xin's dormitory.
Guo Xin sat in a chair with a computer screen in front of him and headphones hanging in his ears.
His three roommates stood around him, one standing, one sitting, and one leaning on the back of a chair.
"He's out," Guo Xin said, his voice brimming with barely suppressed excitement.
"I saw it," said my roommate who was standing.
"He seems to have gotten even more handsome," said my roommate, who was leaning against the back of his chair.
"Don't pay attention to this," Guo Xin waved his hand. "Let's see how he plays."
His phone was next to the keyboard, with the Super Topic page open on the screen.
The comments and posts were scrolling by rapidly; some were posting screenshots, some were cheering, and some were saying, "We must win the Champion today!"
Dormitories at Beijing Normal University.
Su Qingyue sat on the bed, her phone propped up on the small table in front of her. Her two roommates sat on either side of her.
"Your friend is here," said the roommate on the left.
"Mm," Su Qingyue responded.
Her gaze fell on the white figure on the screen.
He was standing behind the baseline, doing his final warm-up exercises.
She glanced down at the four-leaf clover pendant on her chest but said nothing.
Yan Ruanning's studio.
In the first-floor office area, employees gathered around a projection screen.
Someone projected the live stream onto the wall; the screen was large, and Cheng Che's figure occupied half of the wall.
Yan Ruanning stood at the back of the crowd, holding a cup of tea in her hand.
She didn't sit down, but leaned against the edge of a desk, her gaze fixed on the screen.
Xiao Zhou stood next to her and whispered, " Sister Ning, aren't you going to sit down?"
"Standing is fine."
Xiao Zhou glanced at her but didn't say anything more.
On the court, Cheng Che stood behind the baseline.
He patted the ball and glanced down at the racket.
[Firmness: 85.]
A very subtle change traveled from the handle of the racket to the palm.
The racket's weight hasn't changed, but the way it feels in my hand is different now.
It's stickier, it fits better, like the air between your hand and the racket has been sucked away.
Then he took a deep breath.
"Open."
[ Total Concentration activated.]
The world fell silent. The cheers from the stands, the voices from the commentary booth, even the sound of Becker dribbling the ball across the field receded into the distance.
His vision became extremely clear; every inch of the opposite half of the court and every net cable was within his sight.
He looked at Becker and said something to himself.
"In this battle, I will crush everything in my path."