Chapter 2: Hearing the Ball's Soul

The crumpled piece of paper lay scattered at Chen An’s feet, reflecting a cold, hard sheen under the dim, yellowish light. Zhao Tiezhu expected Chen An to humbly pick it up and submit to the terms, but instead, Chen An just flicked his fingers, using the momentum to let the paper float gently into his palm. He scanned the clauses, the corner of his mouth lifting in a look of indifference. It wasn’t joy; it was disdain for an absurd plot twist.

Zhao Tiezhu’s eyes went wide. The tough aura he’d been projecting seemed to leak out against the backdrop of Chen An’s dead-calm stare. He hadn’t expected this “trash,” who looked like he’d be stomped into the mud at any moment, to be too proud to even sign the contract. This silence hit harder than any rebuttal. The air froze, leaving only the wind howling outside, rattling the iron door with a metallic clank.

From the depths of the gym, the sharp scuff of quick footsteps accompanied by the clatter of protective gear drew near. Lin Xiao strided in, pride still radiating off him, his gaze sharp as a falcon’s, pinned firmly on Chen An. He completely ignored the flustered Zhao Tiezhu and walked straight to the other side of the table, casually picking up a DHS three-star ball. He tapped it against his fingertips, the rhythm crisp and clear.

His eyes were full of contempt, as if he were looking at a stray dog that had wandered into a high-end banquet. To Lin Xiao, Chen An was just a prop to make his own genius shine brighter. Right now, his anger stemmed from his inability to understand his own mistake, and Chen An had become the perfect target for his frustration.

Lin Xiao slammed his paddle down on the table, the shockwave making the ball bounce slightly. He let out a cold snort, his voice echoing through the empty gym with an undeniable pressure. He issued a direct command, demanding that Chen An immediately point out the specific data error in his previous movement. If he couldn’t, he was to roll out of the gym forever.

In Lin Xiao’s logic, Chen An’s claim about “his right shoulder dropping two millimeters” was just a coincidence or something he’d overheard. He wanted to use facts to crush the backbone of this arrogant nobody who didn’t know his place.

Chen An ignored Zhao Tiezhu’s concern and wasn’t shaken by Lin Xiao’s pressure. He slowly closed his eyes, entering a special state of silence. The surrounding noise instantly receded. The wind, the hum of the subway, the buzz of the light currents, even the vibration of Lin Xiao’s chest as he breathed—all of it was stripped away layer by layer, resolving into a clear frequency band.

Deep within his consciousness, he caught the air disturbance frequency from the moment the string met the ball during Lin Xiao’s last forehand stroke. Hidden within that was the secret of the landing point deviation.

Chen An opened his eyes. His gaze was terrifyingly clear. He didn’t speak immediately, letting the dead silence spread until Lin Xiao’s patience hit its breaking point.

“Landing point three centimeters to the left, vertical direction two centimeters deeper.”

Chen An’s voice was light, yet it pierced through all the background noise. He didn’t look at Lin Xiao; he was just stating objective fact. Those three centimeters of deviation were errors Lin Xiao couldn’t control even in his most confident state, and also the most hidden weakness of a genius main player. The gym was dead silent; even the wind seemed to pause.

Lin Xiao’s expression shifted from arrogance to shock, then to a trace of panic. He subconsciously looked at his right hand, as if the limb had betrayed him. Zhao Tiezhu sucked in a sharp breath; such precise data reconstruction exceeded the limits of human vision. Chen An remained relaxed, as if he’d just casually reported the weather.

Lin Xiao forced his trembling down, taking a deep breath, trying to regain his composure. He shook his head violently, a cunning and vicious glint flashing in his eyes. He firmly denied any technical error, forcing the conflict toward the possibility that Chen An had cheated. He took a step forward, almost pressing his face against Chen An’s, pointing at the table and roaring his accusation that Chen An was using hidden tracking devices or marking the table to predict the landing points.

In his mind, only illegal means could explain such inhuman precision. He braced both hands on the edge of the table, his knuckles white, his body radiating a tension ready to explode, forcing Chen An to respond.

“Practice match. Now.” Lin Xiao’s voice was ice-cold. He hopped up on the table, his eyes locked dead on Chen An. He demanded Chen An engage in a one-on-one close-table practice match as a sparring partner to verify his skills. He believed that if Chen An relied on auditory cheating, he definitely couldn’t keep up with the speed.

Zhao Tiezhu was sweating profusely with worry, wanting to rush over to stop them, fearing Chen An would get hurt and drag others into trouble, but Lin Xiao didn’t give a damn. He only cared about reclaiming his dignity.

Chen An remained silent for a moment, then picked up an old backup paddle. The rubber on that paddle was severely worn, a stark contrast to the brand-new carbon fiber paddle in Lin Xiao’s hand. He didn’t warm up, and didn’t even look at Lin Xiao, just gently bouncing the ball. Lin Xiao’s mouth curled up, and he served quickly. The ball carried strong topspin, shooting rapidly toward Chen An’s backhand wide angle. It was a typical close-table aggressive start.

However, the instant the ball left the paddle, Chen An’s foot had already shifted slightly to the right, placing him precisely at the optimal leverage point.

*Thwack.*

The paddle lightly touched the ball, making a short, crisp sound. The ball didn’t fly out; instead, it was steadily pushed back into the table, the landing point actually deeper than Lin Xiao’s serve. Lin Xiao’s pupils contracted sharply, a chill crawling up his spine, disbelief washing over him. He quickly adjusted, serving again, adding a hidden side-spin. The ball drew a strange arc in the air, rushing toward Chen An’s forehand.

Chen An still didn’t move his feet. He lightly twisted his wrist, and at the instant the paddle met the ball, his body appeared like a phantom in a dead angle Lin Xiao had never anticipated.

Three consecutive powerful forehand rushes. Lin Xiao used every ounce of emotion and force, trying to crush Chen An’s static defense with pure power. But Chen An was like a transparent wall, or a ghost that was always one step ahead. He didn’t need to watch the ball or predict the spin, because he could hear every millimeter of air slicing caused by the ball’s flight.

That sound built a Holographic Projection in his mind—trajectory, rotation speed, and deviation were clearly visible. The faster Lin Xiao hit, the more sweat slid down, his breathing heavy; Chen An’s breathing remained steady as ever, as if they weren’t even in the same dimension.

At this moment, a pair of eyes appeared in the shadows of the corner of the gym. Su Wanwan had arrived without anyone noticing, wearing a smart sports windbreaker, the badge of the National Team coaching group pinned to her chest. She stood quietly at the door, her gaze sweeping over the crowd to lock onto that figure using sparring moves to counter a genius main player. Initially, she was full of doubt, thinking it was just a performance.

But as Lin Xiao missed stroke after stroke and let out desperate screams, her doubt turned into focus. She saw the heart-wrenching calm behind Chen An and his extreme ability to convert hearing into tactics. She knew that the key person she’d been looking for to break the deadlock was perhaps right here. She didn’t speak, just narrowed her eyes slightly, tapping her notebook to record this incredible scene.

However, Lin Xiao finally broke.

After an extremely subtle short ball, he forced his swing in frustration, missing entirely, and the ball flew off the outer table. The moment of loss of control made his bottled-up anger explode completely. He violently smashed the paddle on the floor, the sharp crack of it snapping echoing painfully. His face turned a deathly blue, pointing at Chen An and roaring, accusing his moves of being witchcraft, hinting that the paddle had an acceleration device or hidden weapons inside.

In his logic, there was no explanation for this godly prediction besides cheating. He was ready to stop the match and pursue responsibility; he absolutely could not allow a “thief” to occupy his table, nor could he allow outsiders to see it, as that would ruin his career.

Chen An wasn’t provoked. He calmly picked up the broken paddle and set it aside. He tilted his head slightly, listening to Lin Xiao’s rapid panting and the subtle tearing sounds as his muscles tensed, even catching that Lin Xiao’s heart had skipped a beat. He raised a finger and pointed to his own ear, using the calmest tone to dismantle the subtle sounds of Lin Xiao’s breathing and muscle tension during his power swings.

He proved that everything was within the realm of hearing, with no external forces involved. This realization hit Lin Xiao in the heart like a hammer, pushing the fear of being surpassed and the humiliation of being insulted to its peak.

Lin Xiao’s face went from blue to white, then red, finally freezing in a near-purple, deathly grimace. He clenched his teeth, hands trembling, ready to call a halt and file a formal complaint against Chen An for malicious competition. Just as he opened his mouth to deliver the final ultimatum, the gym’s main door was pushed open violently.

Cold air rushed in, carrying an aura of undeniable authority.

Lin Xiao froze mid-motion, seeing that familiar figure in the doorway—Su Wanwan. She ignored all of Lin Xiao’s protests and anger, her gaze bypassing him to look straight at Chen An, her eyes focused like a hunter locking onto prey.

“Continue.”

Su Wanwan’s voice was crisp and firm, leaving no room for negotiation. She stepped into the gym, the click of her high heels on the floor weaving in with Lin Xiao’s ragged breathing. All the agitation in the air settled, until only that command rang out like thunder. Chen An lowered his head slightly, an unfathomable smile surfacing at the corner of his mouth.

He knew that no matter the result, this game had been pushed to a higher, more uncontrollable stage. And the fire in Lin Xiao’s eyes hadn’t died; instead, with Su Wanwan’s appearance, it had become colder and more dangerous.

Chen An didn’t move; that smile didn’t fade. Instead, it cut another notch into Lin Xiao’s frayed nerves. Lin Xiao’s chest heaved violently, sweat dripping from his chin, hitting the floor with a faint tap. He stared hard at Chen An; that look was no longer the earlier contempt, but a mix of the terror of being controlled and the madness of wanting to tear his opponent apart.

“Three centimeters...” Lin Xiao’s voice was hoarse, like crushed ice squeezed from the depths of his throat, “How do you know it’s three centimeters? By listening?”

Chen An still stood in place, hands hanging by his sides, his posture relaxed to the point of arrogance. He lightly rotated his finger; the remains of the broken paddle spun between his fingers, making a subtle scraping sound.

“Your breathing rhythm stuttered on the third beat. Compensatory muscle contraction caused your center of gravity to shift by 0.5 degrees. Your paddle didn’t break; its trajectory did.”

Chen An’s pace was steady, each word landing clearly on Lin Xiao’s eardrums. “This is physics, not coincidence.”

Lin Xiao suddenly swung his palm, not to hit the ball, but slammed hard against the protective net beside him. The steel wire tightened, letting out a piercing shriek, and the entire gym went terrifyingly quiet. Everyone held their breath, waiting for the thunderous rage of this genius player to erupt.

However, Lin Xiao didn’t roar, and he didn’t smash the paddle again. He just slowly straightened his back, his gaze locking onto Chen An like a spitting snake. That cold aura made the surrounding air temperature drop instantly, as if even the pressure brought by Su Wanwan was being swallowed by this deathly silence.

“Good. Very good.” Lin Xiao muttered, the corner of his mouth curving into a twisted arc, “Since you want to watch, I’ll make sure you see clearly. Next ball, I’ll make you regret ever standing here today.”

Su Wanwan still stood at the entrance, not intervening, just watching the scene quietly. Her eyes remained sharp, as if she were evaluating two different assets. Chen An gripped the paddle in his hand tightly again, feeling the slight vibration from the wooden frame. He knew he had bet right, or rather, Lin Xiao had bet right too.

This sparring match was no longer just a technical contest; it was a life-or-death struggle over dignity and control.

Lin Xiao took a deep breath, the long-suppressed resentment finally finding an outlet. He held nothing back, his legs slamming into the floor as his body shot toward the table like an arrow leaving a bowstring. The paddle tore through the air, emitting a sharp bang. This time, there was no prediction, no blocking, only pure, destructive power.

Chen An’s pupils contracted slightly, his body instinctively stepping back, but his feet slipped a little due to inertia. In the instant that this overwhelming offensive was about to land, the fanaticism in Lin Xiao’s eyes reached its peak; he seemed to be savoring the joy of pushing his opponent into a corner.

And Chen An, in that very second, heard a faint, extremely subtle... hesitation in Lin Xiao’s disordered breathing.