The Magic City Tennis Masters, day of the finals.
Hall 1 was packed to capacity.
The Centre Court at the Qizhong Tennis Center was packed with people today.
The stands, from bottom to top, were densely packed, like a wall made of people.
Some people held up Chinese banners, some held up Germany flags, some wore custom-made short-sleeved shirts with Cheng Che's image printed on them, and some were live-streaming on their phones, pointing the camera at the stadium and muttering to themselves.
Lin Yan and Zhou Zhou sat side by side in the commentary booth.
Lin Yan wore a dark suit today, and Zhou Zhou's tie was also neater than usual.
"Dear viewers, welcome to the Magic City Masters's Singles Final. Today's match in the Centre Court is a historic one," Lin Yan's voice came through the loudspeaker, brimming with barely suppressed excitement. "It's Cheng Che from Xia Country against Alexander Zverev from Germany. This is the first time a Xia Country player has reached a Master -level final."
Zhou Zhou continued:
"Moreover, Cheng Che entered the final with a record of dropping only one set in seven matches. He defeated world number four Khachanov in the semifinals, eliminated world number five Medvedev in the quarterfinals, and defeated world number nineteen Berrettini in the third round. The quality of his path to the final is rare in the entire history of the Master tournament."
Lin Yan nodded:
"Yes. Today his opponent is Zverev, the world's number three, a 25-year-old Germany who reached the US Open semifinals this year. This is the highest-ranked opponent Cheng Che has faced in his career."
The stands were filled with a large number of Xia Country spectators.
The girls wore short-sleeved shirts with Cheng Che's image printed on them. Some had small national flags drawn on their faces, while others held up banners that read " Cheng Che!" and " The Champion belongs to you!"
Jiang Xue sat in the middle of the crowd, looking left and right.
She looked at the girls in short sleeves and couldn't help but mutter to herself:
"Aren't these girls too daring? They have such a big image printed on their clothes."
Cheng Jianguo sat down next to her, glanced at her sideways, and his lips twitched:
"You don't understand. This is their way of expressing their love for our son."
Jiang Xue her eyes at him.
"Forget it, I can't handle so many daughters-in-law."
As she spoke, she glanced to the side.
Su Miaoyin sat to her left, wearing a cream-colored knitted cardigan, her hair down, quietly watching the court.
Yan Ruanning sat to her right, wearing a dark hat, her mask pulled down to her chin, and the collar of her trench coat turned up, also looking at the court.
The two people were separated from her, one on her left and the other on her right. Neither of them spoke to the other, but neither of them gave the other a cold look.
A sentence popped into Jiang Xue's mind.
One monk carries water to drink, but two monks have no water to drink.
She turned her head and glanced at Su Miaoyin.
He's handsome, sensible, and caring.
She turned her head to look at Yan Ruanning again.
He's handsome, talented, a singer, and from the same hometown.
Both girls are exceptionally outstanding in both appearance and achievements.
She wished they were all her daughters-in-law.
But that's impossible in reality.
She sighed and turned her gaze back to the court.
She had never even considered this kind of trouble before.
Now that my son is successful, I have more worries.
Su Miaoyin and Yan Ruanning were both looking at the court.
Jiang Xue was between the two, and neither of them offered her any favors.
Su Miaoyin didn't initiate a conversation with Jiang Xue, Yan Ruanning didn't go over to strike up a chat either.
The two seemed to have reached a tacit agreement.
Do not compete when you are out in the world.
But there's something more subtle in this tacit understanding.
Su Miaoyin occasionally glanced at Yan Ruanning's profile, Yan Ruanning occasionally glanced at Su Miaoyin's wrist.
Their eyes never met, but they both knew what the other was looking at.
In the players' locker room, Cheng Che sat in a chair with his eyes closed.
He didn't look at his phone, didn't listen to music, and didn't do anything.
He just kept his eyes closed, leaning back in the chair, breathing very slowly.
Qin Lie stood to the side, holding a racket and a towel, without saying a word.
Cheng Che's consciousness was immersed in the system panel.
[ Dynamic Luck: Automatically generates a luck value of 1-10 daily. 1 is average, 10 is exceptional. Influences the outcome of all random events that day.]
[ Musical Supersense: Perfect pitch, melodic inspiration flows like a spring, and the emotional delivery of your performance/singing is doubled. Your music has an inherent "brand," making it unforgettable.]
[ Iconic Moment: The " Iconic Moment " effect is automatically applied to key moments or highlights. Your performance is imbued with extraordinary impact and memorability, doubling the impression on onlookers and making the image more easily shared and remembered.]
Cheng Che went through it in his mind.
Of these three buffs, the one that has a direct impact on his performance today is [ Dynamic Luck ].
He glanced at today's numbers.
[Today's luck rating: 6.]
six.
Not the highest, but not low either.
The chosen ones are ten, the ordinary ones are one.
A number in the upper-middle range suggests that today's random events will be slightly more favorable.
In tennis, the results of a ball grazed, a ball hitting the line, or a challenge to Hawk-Eye can all be categorized as "random events."
A luck value of 6 means that the balls will tend to gravitate towards him more often today.
He opened his eyes.
Qin Lie handed him the racket. "Ready?"
Cheng Che took the racket, stood up, and said, "Let's go."
He pushed open the locker room door and walked towards the players' tunnel.
The corridor was long, and light shone in from the end, falling at his feet.
He walked at a moderate pace, with steady steps.
Lin Yan's voice came over the loudspeaker.
"Ladies and gentlemen, the final is about to begin. Now entering is the Germany athlete, Alexander Zverev."
Cheng Che stopped at the corner of the passage, waiting for Zverev to enter first.
He heard cheers outside, applause from Germany fans, and the commentator continuing his explanation.
Then, his name was changed on the radio.
"Next up is Xia Country's player, Cheng Che."
He went outside.
The cheers in Arena 1 were louder than at any previous game.
The sound surged from all sides of the stands, crashing onto the field like waves hitting rocks.
Some people called his name, some shouted "Go for it!" in Chinese, some stood up holding banners, and several girls jumped up excitedly.
Cheng Che walked to the center of the field, stood still, and looked around the stands.
His gaze swept across the crowd, not lingering on any one spot, but he knew in his heart that Jiang Xue, Cheng Jianguo, Su Miaoyin, and Yan Ruanning were all in the stands.
They are watching him.
Zverev, standing opposite him behind the baseline, was two meters tall with broad shoulders, long legs, and dark brown hair tied back.
He was stretching, his movements were perfect, and his expression was calm.
He played tennis for ten years, reached three Grand Slam finals, and faced one top opponent after another.
But at this moment, standing on this court, looking at the eighteen-year-old boy opposite him, he felt an inexplicable sense of pressure.
He watched Cheng Che's match recordings.
He knew how fast the boy's serve was, how accurate his return of serve was, and how stable his baseline game was.
Cheng Che is not tall; 1.84 meters is not considered tall in the tennis world, but his jumping ability is terrifyingly amazing.
But he also knew that the video recording and the actual scene were two different things.
He watched the video three times in the locker room and felt ready.
But when he actually stood there, watching the boy walk out of the passage and be surrounded by cheers from the crowd, his throat bobbed.
Cheng Che walked to the net and shook hands with Zverev.
Zverev had large hands, dry palms, and a strong grip.
He looked down at Cheng Che and said a sentence in German.
Cheng Che didn't understand, but he nodded.
Zverev released his grip, turned, and walked back to the baseline.
The referee signaled for them to prepare.
Cheng Che stood behind the baseline and dribbled the ball.
"Open."
[ Total Concentration activated.]
The world fell silent.
At the same time, the effects of [ Star of the Court ] stacked up wildly, Cheng Che's fixed [95] feel became [100] under [ Star of the Court ]!
He glanced down at his racket and took a deep breath.
Toss the ball, swing the racket.
One shot from the inside corner, and the speed is 237 kilometers per hour!