When I was fourteen, I was always picking up balls in the abandoned gym.
Wang Qinqin leaned against the doorframe and laughed. “Little Bean, keep playing like this and you’ll never make the national team.”
When he hung his champion’s medal around my neck, his palm was slick with sweat.
We were mixed-doubles partners for three years and won every gold medal, yet never even held hands.
A reporter asked him about his ideal type. He glanced at the tips of my ears, red with embarrassment. “Short hair, stubborn, and plays like she doesn’t care if she lives or dies.”
The night we lost at the Asian Games, I heard him smashing the locker from the other side of the changing-room door.
“Wang Qinqin,” I said, tapping softly on the door, “win it back at the World Championships, and I’ll do something for you.”
In the deciding game of the final, with match point against him, he pulled off an unbelievable shot.
As camera flashes engulfed the podium, he suddenly leaned close to my ear.
“Can we hold hands now?”
The author's writing is beautiful 😳😳😳
The author's writing style is very good, and the psychological description and character language are very accurate. I like it very much 👍👍
The author writes very well! The emotions are delicate, the story is told eloquently, and the timeline is very clear. I highly recommend it!!!
So pretty, so pretty