Berrettini played the best set of his career in the second set.
His serve is unstoppable, and his forehand is unstoppable no matter how you hit it.
Cheng Che's slice shots were repeatedly smashed by him as he rushed to the net.
The Italy were like a wild beast cornered against a wall, fighting for every single shot, and winning every single one.
The second set ended with a score of 6-5.
Berrettini won.
Lin Yan's voice in the live stream carried a rare hesitation:
" Berrettini takes the second set. Cheng Che has lost a set for the first time in this Master tournament. The match has gone to a deciding set."
Sarcastic comments immediately popped up in the live chat.
See? It doesn't work against the top 20.
[Those who won before were all weaklings; this is the true level of skill.]
[He's figured out everything; Berrettini has completely outmaneuvered the slice ball.]
[A wildcard player is still a wildcard player after all]
Supporters immediately retaliated.
[ Cheng Che was testing things out the whole time in the second game, didn't you guys notice?]
He's been using slice shots too much; he'll definitely change his playing style in the third set.
Just you wait and see.
In the stands, Pei Jingshu loosened her grip on the mineral water bottle.
She leaned back in her chair and let out a long sigh. Her best friend next to her whispered, "Lost the second round." She bit her lip, her brows furrowed tightly.
She didn't know much about tennis, but she could tell that the Italy player had gone on a rampage in the second set.
She felt a lump in her throat, as if she had lost something.
On the other side of the stands, Yan Ruanning pulled her hat brim down even lower.
Xiao Zhou glanced at her sideways; her fingers remained on her knee, unmoving.
She's played tennis for ten years, so she can tell what Cheng Che is doing.
He was testing, collecting data, using the second plate as a testing ground.
Even knowing this, her heart still tightened.
She pushed her hat up, stared at Cheng Che on the court, and muttered softly:
"Stop playing, it's time to stop."
Berrettini walked back to the lounge chair, picked up his water bottle, and took a sip.
His chest heaved violently, sweat dripped down his chin, and his legs trembled slightly.
The coach was squatting down beside him, saying something. He nodded, but there was an indescribable complexity in his eyes.
He knew he had won the second set, but he also knew the price he had paid.
He played incredibly hard in this game.
Cheng Che sat opposite him, a towel draped over his head, his eyes closed.
He was thinking about something. Berrettini won the second set by fighting back, gambling on his physical endurance with every shot.
This style of play can last for one game, but not three.
The Italy's legs were shaking, his serve speed was dropping, and his forehand consistency was declining.
He won't last much longer.
It was his turn.
Cheng Che took the towel down, glanced at Berrettini across from him, then stood up and walked back to the baseline.
The third game begins.
The first set, Berrettini's serve.
The Italy ' first serve speed dropped by nearly ten kilometers compared to the second set. Cheng Che stopped slicing and hit every shot deep and hard, pinning Berrettini behind the baseline.
Berrettini took two steps and barely managed to deflect the ball back.
Cheng Che executed a forehand diagonal shot that landed on the sideline.
"Zero to fifteen."
For the second point, Berrettini missed his first serve. On his second serve, Cheng Che attacked aggressively, hitting a forehand backhand.
Berrettini lunged forward, but couldn't reach it.
"Zero to thirty."
Lin Yan's voice began to rise:
" Cheng Che Che's tactics have completely changed. He no longer uses slice shots, but instead uses deep and heavy baseline smashes. Berrettini's net play advantage has been completely neutralized."
The live chat exploded.
He's changed! He's completely changed in the third game!
[ Berrettini simply couldn't keep up with the pace]
This is his true strength.
[Where did those sarcastic people go in the second round?]
For the third point, Berrettini made a desperate attempt.
Cheng Che returned the serve with a body shot.
Berrettini sidestepped, then unleashed a forehand down the line. The ball landed inside the line.
Cheng Che hit a backhand shot down the line, and the ball flew past Berrettini's forehand sideline.
Berrettini took two steps, but couldn't reach it.
"Zero to forty."
In the fourth point, Berrettini missed his first serve.
On his second serve, Cheng Che launched a preemptive attack, striking with a forehand backhand.
Berrettini couldn't reach it.
Cheng Che breaks serve. One to zero.
Berrettini stood behind the baseline, looking down at his hands.
The coach shouted something from the sidelines, and he nodded, but his expression was no longer as determined as it had been in the second set.
The second game, Cheng Che's serve.
One shot from the outside, at a speed of 238 kilometers per hour.
Berrettini moved, but only one step. The ball hit the service area, bounced, and flew towards the advertising boards.
"Fifteen to zero."
Lin Yan's voice trembled. "Two hundred and thirty-eight kilometers! Cheng Che has hit the fastest serve of the match!"
The comments section went completely crazy.
[Two hundred and thirty-eight!!!]
Is that even a human capable of receiving?
[ Berrettini stood there without moving]
[Where are the people who just said Cheng Che is no good? Come out here!]
In the second point, Cheng Che fired an inside shot at 235 km/h.
Berrettini managed to block the shot, but the ball flew high into the air.
Cheng Che went online and delivered a powerful smash.
"Thirty to zero."
On the third point, Cheng Che served a shot to the body, and Berrettini hastily blocked it with his backhand, the ball landing in the midfield.
Cheng Che unleashed a powerful diagonal shot with his forehand.
"Forty to zero."
The fourth point came when Cheng Che served a shot to the far corner. Berrettini didn't react.
" Cheng Che holds serve. Two to zero."
The third set, Berrettini's serve.
His serve speed has dropped below 200 kilometers per hour.
Cheng Che broke serve again. 3-0.
In the fourth set, Cheng Che held serve. 4-0.
In the fifth set, Berrettini held serve, making it 4-1.
In the sixth game, Cheng Che held serve, making it 5-1.
In the stands, Pei Jingshu could no longer hold back.
She stood up abruptly from her seat, cupped her hands around her mouth, and called out in Korean:
Cheng Che --I love you--!
The sound was so loud that everyone around her turned to look at her.
Her best friend grabbed her arm, trying to pull her down, but Pei Jingshu didn't budge.
She stood there, her face flushed red, her eyes flashing with an alarming intensity.
She doesn't care what others think of her.
All she knew was that she had just watched the best game of her life, and the player was the most handsome person she had ever seen.
" Cheng Che! Cheng Che! Cheng Che!"
She called his name three times, each time louder than the last.
My best friend covered her face, feeling embarrassed, but she couldn't help but smile.
She roused the others in the stands, and cheers erupted in waves.
On the other side of the stands, Yan Ruanning also stood up from her seat.
She didn't shout or jump, but her hands gripped the railing, her knuckles turning white.
Xiao Zhou looked at her and saw that her lips were trembling and her eyes were unusually bright.
"Well done," Yan Ruanning said, her voice not loud, but Xiao Zhou heard her clearly.
"You rarely compliment people like that," Xiao Zhou said.
Yan Ruanning did not respond.
She glanced at the white figure packing up rackets on the court, a slight smile playing on her lips, before sitting back down.
The seventh game, Berrettini's serve.
Cheng Che forced two match points.
Berrettini saved the first one with a forehand winner.
On the second match point, Cheng Che received the serve and launched an attack, hitting a backhand down the line.
Berrettini lunged forward, extending his racket to its maximum extent.
The ball didn't touch. It landed inside the sideline, bounced, and flew out of the barrier.
Berrettini stood there, watching the ball fly past, then looked down at his hands.
"Match ended. 4-6, 6-7, 6-1. Cheng Che wins."
Lin Yan stood up from his chair, his headphone cord twitched, but he ignored it.
" Cheng Che rallied to defeat the tournament's 16th seed and world number 19, Berrettini, 4-6, 6-7, 6-1, advancing to the third round! After losing the second set, he completely dominated the deciding set, allowing his opponent only one game!"
The screen was filled with comments.
[6-1 in the third set!!!]
[After losing one game, he went on a rampage.]
[ Berrettini completely collapsed in the third set]
This is the real harvest.
Where are those people who were being sarcastic just now? Did they delete their comments?
Berrettini walked to the net and shook hands with Cheng Che.
"Second game, are you kidding me?"
Cheng Che looked at him but didn't reply.
Berrettini gave a wry smile, released his grip, and turned to leave.
His steps were slow, and his shoulders were much lower than at the beginning.
Cheng Che stood in front of the net, watching his back.
Then he looked down at his hands. His palms were dry, without any sweat.
He flexed his wrist and it felt great.
Back in the locker room, Cheng Che put away his racket and sat down in a chair.
Qin Lie was already waiting outside, holding information about his opponents in the third round.
"Next round, it's a Russia. Ranked 14th in the world. US Open semifinalist this year."
Cheng Che glanced down at the name.
He folded the documents and put them in his bag.
"Let's go," he said, "Let's go back and watch the recording."
Qin Lie nodded. The two left the changing room and walked down the corridor towards the parking lot.
At the end of the corridor, a young stagehand suddenly looked up and stared at him for two seconds.
"Contestant Cheng Che."
Cheng Che turned his head and glanced at him.
"Come on."
The stagehand said it in a soft but earnest tone.
Cheng Che nodded to him. Then he pushed open the door and walked out.