Chapter 17 – Chess match
Clap. Clap. Clap.
The sound of a tennis racket striking the court echoed through the empty stadium in steady rhythm. A gentle breeze swept across the court as if keeping time, and golden sunlight poured through the cloudless blue sky. A faint heat shimmered on the skin, even the air itself seemed to slow.
Bend the knees! Push off! Toss!
Gao Wen’s body stretched like a fully drawn bow, arms opening in a graceful arc. Power flowed from the soles of his feet up through his shoulders and into his arm, and the racket came swinging down like Thor’s hammer, as if the very motion sent a wave of air rippling outward.
Standing at the sideline, Coach Martin watched closely. With a single glance, he could tell that Gao Wen still wasn’t fully engaging his legs.
Why do people say tennis must be trained from childhood? Because proper technique demands absolute precision. From the serve to the forehand, to the backhand and footwork, every technical detail relies on years of accumulated muscle memory. Without the correct foundation, no amount of natural talent can be converted into real strength.
Given Gao Wen’s height, even if his raw power was lacking, the downward angle alone should generate speed and penetration. His serve should be far more threatening. The main issue was clear: his serving mechanics were off—his leg drive wasn’t fully engaged, so the power never truly released.
He was wasting his height advantage.
Martin was considering how to correct Gao Wen’s motion—how to improve his serve even without strength training—when in the blink of an eye, Gao Wen had already sent the ball flying.
Whoosh!
The ball traced a high arc over the net toward the wide corner of the service box. The speed didn’t look fast, the shot didn’t seem powerful, but the moment it hit the ground it kicked out with fierce spin, skidding sharply toward the sideline, racing past the doubles line in a blur.
What?!
Giron’s read was completely wrong. He expected a flat serve and got a slice; he anticipated the serve going inside, but it broke wide instead. Though he kept bouncing on his toes, constantly adjusting his balance, his reaction was still a touch late.
He lunged toward his forehand side, stretching out his racket at full extension. His reaction speed was astonishing, and he barely managed to get the strings on the ball—but the heavy spin kept him from making solid contact.
Screech!
The ball popped up sharply, climbing into the golden sunlight before dropping back down into Giron’s court.
“15–0.”
Gao Wen scores.
A hint of appreciation flashed in Coach Martin’s eyes. Although Gao Wen lacked raw power, his serve variations were surprisingly rich. At the moment of contact, just as the ball left the strings, he altered the angle of his wrist and racket face—what looked like a flat serve suddenly turned into a sharply sliced one.
Giron misread it, and truth be told, Martin hadn’t caught the hidden adjustment either.
Interesting, Martin thought. It seemed that after the autumn season ended, Gao Wen really had been studying and practising. None of these patterns had shown up in the previous four months. The question was: just how far had Gao Wen taken his research?
To many people, tennis is a sport of pure physical dominance—power, speed, spin. Once overwhelmed by these absolute advantages, it feels impossible to turn the tide.
Gao Wen used to believe that as well. But after leaving the sport in his previous life and watching matches from the outside—especially clashes between top players—he gradually realised something: tennis is a game of pressure and counter-pressure. It’s not only about using one’s strengths, but also a battle of mind and spirit.
From tactical patterns and timing, to anticipation and calculation, all the way to maintaining momentum and mental resilience, the psychological battle can sometimes be even more decisive—of course, assuming one’s body and technique can support the chosen strategy.
Like a chess match.
Absolute power and absolute speed are undeniably advantageous, but they are not unbreakable—and that is where tennis becomes truly captivating.
Gao Wen had never imagined he would stand on a court again. His understanding and interpretation of tennis had undergone a complete transformation. Now was the moment to see whether his game could experience a true rebirth.
Giron was mildly frustrated. His main issue was his misread—the serve direction and type were completely wrong. He needed to refocus.
He slapped his forehead lightly, then moved to the opposite side of the court, preparing to return serve from the deuce side—
The serving rules in tennis are similar to table tennis:
For the first serve of a game, the server stands on the right side of the court, known as the “deuce side.” The serve must travel diagonally into the corresponding service box, which means the receiver stands on the left.
For the second serve, the server moves to the left side, called the “advantage side,” and the receiver returns to the right to face the serve.
And so on.
With every serve and return, both players must constantly move back and forth between the deuce side and the advantage side.
In serving and returning, if the serve lands in and the opponent fails to touch it before it goes dead, that’s called an “ace.” If the opponent does touch the serve but the ball then goes into the net, out of bounds, or otherwise becomes dead, that’s called a “service winner.”
Either way, it shows how crucial the serve is—scoring without having to rally at all.
Giron was now fully focused, eyes locked on Gao Wen’s toss and racket—by reading the toss placement and racket angle, one could often predict the serve’s target. At the same time, just like in table tennis, he had to watch the ball carefully for spin and seize the initiative when returning.
Push!
Push!
He bounced lightly on the spot to keep his balance active, then saw the ball streaking toward the middle of the service box—
A flat serve?
Because of Gao Wen’s lack of raw power, even his hardest flat serves only reached the average speed of NCAA men’s tennis, far from using his height advantage. For Giron, returning that kind of serve shouldn’t have been difficult.
Push!
Move!
Giron shifted slightly, preparing to take it with a forehand, but—
Damn!
After bouncing, the ball kicked up with heavy topspin. What had looked like a slow ball suddenly accelerated off the court, driving straight into Giron’s position. Before he could fully get out of the way, the ball was already right in front of him, growing larger and larger.
He twisted his torso, barely managing to turn half his body aside. His right arm hadn’t even fully extended when he felt the ball’s forward force explode against his strings. Forced into it, he rotated his upper body and shoved through the shot, blocking the ball back with a desperate, awkward push—just managing to stay in the point.
Damn it!
He’d misread it again!
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