Love Is a Ball That Never Falls

The overhead lights in the provincial team training hall burned until early morning, and the two lone stars illuminated each other amidst the hum of the ball machines. The pain-relieving patches he slipped into her wristbands always had rosin on the edges; the glue recipe she prepared for him was mixed with the bitterness of ginkgo leaves from her hometown. However, the cruel laws of competitive sports lie like an iron curtain: on the night when the order to break up the team was issued, the sound of him breaking his racket tore up the silence in the locker room, and she used the "Swift Water" footwork taught by him to severely cut off all tenderness on the field. Media cameras made secret photos of illegitimate meals a hot topic, but the stamp on the lawyer's letter was rejected by her as "too ugly"; when he kneeled down on one knee with his injured leg with a ruptured Achilles tendon, and hung the Olympic gold medal around her neck, it was raining heavily outside the window, and her kiss fell on the plaster - "Award The cup will oxidize, but in the prism of the St. Braden Cup, there will always be our overlapping shadows. "From the youth training of the provincial team to the peak of the Olympics, from the embarrassment of the failed shot to the glory of the mixed doubles, two stubborn souls faced each other across the net at both ends of the table, and their fingers were locked in the storm of fate. When the pair of Swift rackets customized by Chen Jingru were finally embedded in the same acrylic showcase, Yang Yuxuan raised her chin at the retirement press conference: "Who said that table tennis romance novels can only be about sweet pets? We insist on writing about blood and scars -" He took the microphone and rubbed the old scars on her wrists with his fingertips: " - about the day when the golden rain fell, and all tennis balls became destined gyrations."