By the time Cheng Che followed the crew toward the tennis courts, the sun was already sinking in the west, dyeing the sports center's entire running track a dusky gold.
The indoor tennis facility was brightly lit, with the lights on over all four courts. Court Two, the innermost court, had already been cleared.
The camera crew had arrived ahead of them. Several stagehands were setting up cameras and laying tracks, while the lighting technician paced along the sidelines with a light meter.
Standing courtside and taking in the setup, Cheng Che belatedly began to feel nervous.
"Cheng Che." Yan Ruanning walked over from the side. She had already changed and retied her hair, looking sharp and energetic. "Play against me. For real. We'll play a full match."
Cheng Che nodded, then asked half a second later, "What counts as a full match?"
"First to four games, as usual," Yan Ruanning said. "We won't use the professional format, but it can't be too short, either. The director will pick shots from the whole match."
Cheng Che understood. It would be just like the last time he had been Yan Ruanning's hitting partner.
Only this time, there would be cameras.
"Oh," he said, bending down to open the tennis bag at his feet and pull out his racket.
Yan Ruanning raised an eyebrow at his old racket but said nothing, turning to step onto the court first.
Beside Court Two, the director was already seated in front of the monitor, a walkie-talkie in hand, his eyes fixed on the test footage on the screen.
The lighting was ready, illuminating the entire court like a stage.
"All departments, stand by! Performers, take your places!"
Cheng Che stood at the baseline, tossed the tennis ball in his hand a few times, then tightened his grip on his racket.
He did not activate Total Concentration.
There was no need.
The current Yan Ruanning was no longer a match for him.
Serve.
Cheng Che tossed the ball upward, arching his body back like a fully drawn bow, then explosively sprang forward.
The whole motion flowed seamlessly. His racket struck the ball with a crisp crack.
The ball vanished for an instant.
When it reappeared, it had already slammed down just inside the sideline on Yan Ruanning's backhand side, bouncing up and flying out of bounds.
An ace.
The sidelines fell silent for half a second.
Only then did someone react. "Holy shit... that had to be going 150, right?"
"Were you rolling just now?"
"Rolling... rolling what?"
"The camera!"
The cameraman jerked his head up from behind the viewfinder, his face flushing red. "Sorry, Director! I-I got so caught up watching, I forgot to hit record!"
The director: "..."
"One more time, one more time." The cameraman hurriedly scrubbed his face. "I'll definitely remember this time."
Yan Ruanning straightened and looked at Cheng Che, something a little different in her eyes.
She knew Cheng Che had talent.
During their last hitting session, he had already been able to keep up with her pace.
But how many days had it been since then?
He had even developed his serve?
That motion, that fluidity-there was no way to achieve it without practicing tens of thousands of serves.
Yan Ruanning had guessed right. Cheng Che had only just completed the [Serve Hell Training Pack] yesterday, gaining these advanced serving skills.
She had originally thought his future might lie in university or perhaps the entertainment industry, but she had never imagined the tennis court would be the likeliest possibility.
Now it seemed that some people were simply born to stand on the court.
"I'm getting serious now." Yan Ruanning lowered her center of gravity and held her racket in front of her.
Cheng Che nodded. "Okay."
The match officially began.
This time, not only Yan Ruanning but even the crew watching from the sidelines could see what was going on.
Cheng Che was absurdly strong.
On serve, he scored point after point.
On return, he changed direction straight off his backhand.
Occasionally, Yan Ruanning seized an opening and hit a deep shot, but Cheng Che's long legs carried him to it in just a few strides. Then he hammered a forehand back into the far corner of her baseline.
He moved as though every step had been calculated in advance. Every swing was full of power, his whole body like a precise, tireless machine.
"Beautiful." Watching the monitor, the director suddenly uttered a single word.
Behind him, the director of photography leaned in as well, his eyes fixed on the screen.
The boy in the frame raced all over the court, every movement looking as though it had been lifted straight from a tennis video game, carrying a natural expressiveness.
"This footage could go straight into the music video as the main shots..." the director of photography murmured.
The director said nothing, merely nodding, having even forgotten to pick up his walkie-talkie.
"Last point."
Breathing hard, Yan Ruanning bounced the ball against the ground.
Cheng Che stood at the baseline, a fine sheen of sweat on his forehead, but his breathing was steady.
He recalled the sentence repeated most often throughout those ten thousand serves.
Serve the ball, then win.
For the final point, he did not serve.
Yan Ruanning served to him. Cheng Che sliced a backhand, sending the ball dropping near the net with heavy backspin. Yan Ruanning rushed forward and lifted it back, but Cheng Che was already at the net. He leaped high and struck a forehand volley.
The ball slammed down behind her, hit the ground, and bounced away.
The match was over.
Cheng Che had won decisively.
Before he even had time to lower his racket, people were rushing onto the court.
Sister Liu led the charge, followed by several female stagehands and makeup assistants, like a pack of fans who had finally waited out the end of a concert.
"Cheche, you were amazing!"
"Do you have any idea how cool that volley at the net was?"
"How does your skin look even better when you're sweating? Oh my god."
Several paws reached for his arms and shoulders at once, rubbing, squeezing, and patting. Sister Liu was the worst, reaching straight out to squeeze his forearm while clicking her tongue.
"Those muscle lines. Oh my."
Every hair on Cheng Che's body stood on end again. His composed expression finally cracked, and he hurriedly backed away.
"Sister Liu, Sister Liu, don't, don't-"
"Xiao Zhou! Xiao Zhou!" Sister Liu called back instead.
Xiao Zhou emerged from somewhere with an expression that said, "I saw through all of this long ago," and pushed through the crowd.
"All right, all right, hurry up and pack up. The director's going to start yelling in a minute."
The director: "?"
Without a change in expression, Xiao Zhou stood in front of Cheng Che like a human shield.
Only then did everyone reluctantly disperse.
Cheng Che let out a long breath. Xiao Zhou turned and gave him a discreet wink.
Yan Ruanning happened to walk over just then, a towel draped around her neck. Ignoring the crew, she looked only at Cheng Che and smiled.
"With you playing like this, it would be a waste not to go pro."
Cheng Che was wiping away his sweat. At her words, his hand paused.
Then he nodded very seriously. "I will."
Yan Ruanning froze for a moment.
She had seen plenty of young people say, "I'll work hard," when praised.
But though the boy before her spoke calmly, the confidence and unstoppable resolve in his eyes were so dazzling.
She smiled, her eyes curving, and reached out to pat his shoulder. "All right. Then I'll be waiting for you to bring glory to our country."
Cheng Che grinned, revealing a row of white teeth.
Once filming was over, Xiao Zhou came over, pulled an envelope out of her waist bag, and pressed it into Cheng Che's hand. "Here's your payment. Three thousand yuan. Want to count it?"
Cheng Che took the envelope and squeezed it.
It was thick.
He did not refuse. These days, some people in the entertainment industry made 2.08 million a day. He was only getting 3,000. What was there to refuse?
His heart bloomed with joy, but he still had to pretend to be calm.
"No need to count it. I trust Sister Ruanning."
Xiao Zhou curled her lip. "You should be saying, 'I trust Sister Xiao Zhou.'"
Cheng Che choked. "...I do. I trust you both."
Yan Ruanning laughed beside them.
With most of the packing done, Yan Ruanning still had to stay behind to review the footage, so Xiao Zhou walked Cheng Che out of the tennis facility.
After returning, Xiao Zhou walked over to Yan Ruanning and could not help asking, "Sister Ruanning, didn't you say Cheng Che was really talented? Why..."
Without turning her head, Yan Ruanning said, "Even if he's talented, he has to be willing. Besides, his college entrance exam is coming up. Anything else can wait until afterward. There's plenty of time ahead."
It was almost nine by the time he got home.
Cheng Jianguo and Jiang Xue were both sitting in the living room, one pretending to watch the news, the other pretending to fold clothes.
"Why are you only getting home now?" Jiang Xue spoke first, looking him up and down. "You were out having fun that long?"
Cheng Che changed his shoes and set the envelope on the coffee table.
"I went to shoot a music video."
"Huh?" Cheng Jianguo and Jiang Xue looked up at the same time.
Cheng Che gave them a concise account.
He had met a female celebrity through his part-time tennis job. She happened to be shooting a music video and needed a high school student who could play tennis, so he had gone to help. Filming was finished, and this was his payment.
After hearing him out, Jiang Xue's mouth stayed open for a long while. "...A female celebrity? Who? Is she famous? What does she sing?"
"Yan Ruanning."
"Yan Ruanning!" Jiang Xue sprang to her feet, not even noticing the clothes dropping from her hands to the floor. "The winner of I Am the God of Song? The one who sings A Letter from the Evening Breeze?"
"Yeah."
"Oh my god." Jiang Xue covered her mouth and turned in a circle like a fangirl. "You talked to her? Is she pretty in person? Prettier than on TV?"
"She's pretty," Cheng Che answered honestly.
Cheng Jianguo cut in from the side. "Then why didn't you get me an autograph?"
Jiang Xue immediately turned to glare at him. "What do you need an autograph for? Do you know her? Does she know you?"
Cheng Jianguo pursed his lips and fell silent.
Smiling, Cheng Che headed toward his room. "Mom, I'm going to shower first. I'm dead tired today."
"Wait." Jiang Xue stopped him and pointed at the envelope on the coffee table. "Keep this money. Buy yourself whatever you want..."
"Okay, I'll keep it, then."
Cheng Che did not stand on ceremony. If the family really ran into difficulties, they would say so.
After showering, he came out and lay on his bed.
Spring City outside his window had quieted down. Occasionally, a car passed, its lights sweeping through the gap in the curtains like a fleeting arc.
His mind was a jumble, yet empty.
A jumble because so much had happened today. Shooting a music video, playing tennis, getting paid.
Empty because he actually had no desire to replay any of it.
What he was thinking about was the monthly exam in four days.
He closed his eyes, clenched his fists, then slowly relaxed them.
"In one shot," he said softly.
This time, I have to make the top hundred.