Chapter 19 – Deadlocked
“40–0.”
In Gao Wen’s service game, Giron hadn’t found a single opening; the entire match was firmly in Gao Wen’s grasp.
But the service game wasn’t over yet.
Giron hopped lightly in place, trying to clear his head.
All three previous points had ended within three shots. In other words, the rallies hadn’t even had time to unfold before the point was decided. It was obvious that Gao Wen was attacking early, exploiting the advantage of the serve to seize the initiative. His follow-up attacks came fast, leaving Giron very little room to counter.
Although Gao Wen’s serve didn’t rely on sheer power, the hidden variations constantly interfered with Giron’s judgment, limiting how much spin and control Giron could apply on the return.
So what Giron needed to do was simple: at the very least, make a clean return, slow the tempo of the exchange, and drag the rally into the kind of baseline rhythm he was familiar with. Only then could Giron bring out his strengths and fight on even footing.
Pop!
Gao Wen served again—this time into the body. Giron read it early and correctly. A push off the ground, a leap, both hands on the backhand; he was perfectly in position. With his whole body behind the swing and no brushing on the strings, he simply used Gao Wen’s pace to drive the ball straight back.
It was a quick, opportunistic counter. Giron didn’t try for angle or depth; instead, he went for a compact, simple hit—safe, controlled, and above all, in, just to keep the rally alive. And then—
He succeeded.
Whoosh!
The return was deep and fast enough, skidding toward the baseline on the far side. Even without much angle, it managed to deny Gao Wen the chance to pounce on the serve.
Still, Gao Wen’s serve had slightly jammed Giron, preventing him from taking full command of the return. And because Giron added a bit of extra spin for safety—to avoid hitting long—the ball landed in the no-man’s-land between the service box and the baseline, giving Gao Wen space to attack.
Out of the corner of his eye, Gao Wen checked Giron’s position. Because Giron had returned from the body serve, his torso had stretched open, and his balance was still shifting, leaving his forehand side exposed. Giron was already tapping his feet, trying to stabilise his centre of gravity and prepare for a second burst of movement.
So Gao Wen took quick adjustment steps and went for a forehand, driving the ball toward the opposite diagonal, hoping to pull Giron wide and open up a bigger angle for a finishing shot.
But Giron was ready. With a rapid sequence of small recovery steps, he reset his balance; his anticipation was perfect. He got to the ball immediately. His second burst of speed was sharp, his match rhythm building quickly. He reached the ball with his forehand and struck cleanly. Even though the angle still wasn’t big, the shot was solid, and the quality of his reply had clearly improved.
At this point, it wasn’t going to be easy for Gao Wen to yank open an angle and finish the point outright—
Because the forehand wasn’t Gao Wen’s biggest weapon, he didn’t have the kind of forehand that could end the point in a single blow. Forcing the attack now would only risk exposing his own court. In that split second, he made the smart call: hold back, stay patient, and work the rally.
And so the exchange settled into a baseline rally. Gao Wen hadn’t been able to win the point in the first three shots, and now both players were hitting full patterns—forehand, backhand; crosscourt, down the line; down the line, crosscourt—painting a neat square of trajectories with neither side able to seize the advantage.
Both players were studying each other and calculating, trying to use the patterns of their shots to disrupt the opponent’s footwork or anticipation, looking for the moment when an opening might finally appear.
But that was easier said than done.
Although Giron was the team’s No. 2 singles player and Gao Wen wasn’t even ranked as the sixth singles player, Giron wasn’t the kind of overpowering player who could simply bulldoze his way through a rally. That meant neither of them could easily hit a clean winner in these exchanges.
What’s more, Giron noticed that Gao Wen was especially energised and focused today. His concentration was razor-sharp, and his defensive shots were deeper and heavier, making it much harder for Giron to take the ball on the rise and strike early.
At least twice, Giron was just a hair away from finishing the point, but Gao Wen sprinted with everything he had, covering every corner of the court, and somehow pulled off those desperate saves—returning the ball deep enough to stop Giron from stepping in or closing the net for an easy put-away.
“Oh!”
“Wow!”
The spectators around the court couldn’t help but let out low murmurs of surprise.
It was just a practice match, yet Gao Wen was playing as if he’d been injected with adrenaline. Even those “it’s fine if you give up on this one” types of impossible balls were chased down. The whole rally suddenly became electrifying.
No one had expected Gao Wen to hold his ground against Giron so well, matching him shot for shot on both offence and defence. It was genuinely eye-opening.
Meanwhile, Giron, who had been the one repeatedly pressing the attack, was starting to feel his momentum fade. After all, he was the one putting in continuous effort. Unlike Thompson, he couldn’t produce sustained, heavy offence point after point. Attack once, attack twice—by the third time, the force just wasn’t the same. Giron had to find an opening to create real danger.
Back and forth they went, and once again, Giron was the first to strike.
He knew he had to create a chance before Gao Wen did, leveraging his forehand advantage to end the point. Otherwise, Gao Wen’s excellent movement would continue covering the entire court. Giron’s forehand was already losing some punch; one dip in the quality of his shot could be the opening Gao Wen needed to turn the tables.
And that was the last thing Giron wanted.
So when Gao Wen sent another shot to Giron’s backhand—slightly slower, with a higher bounce, giving Giron an extra beat—he didn’t hesitate. In an instant, he took three, four rapid lateral adjustment steps, forcing a full-body rotation to turn a backhand reply into a forehand strike.
Push off! Step in!
Giron threw his entire weight forward, catching the ball on the rise. He leapt up, fully committing, his forehand looping out in a complete arc. Using the full power of his body weight, he hammered down on the ball.
Bang!
A solid, unmistakable crack echoed as the ball hit the sweet spot. With perfect timing and rhythm, he took it early—before it had a chance to rise fully—and fired it off before Gao Wen could complete his footwork adjustment. Giron’s counterattack was already blasting the ball away.
Then the ball shot off like a rocket with a long trailing streak, accelerating suddenly toward the diagonal corner of the court.
Whoosh! Whoosh!
A tearing sound through the air—like an enraged bird flaring its wings. It was obvious that Giron had just elevated his level by a full gear, pouring all his strength into that one shot, aiming to end the rally cleanly and decisively with a single, lethal blow.
“Crap!”
“This is bad!”
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