22 Wang Chu Qin

As the Cold War had just begun, a competition arrived.

The national table tennis team still hadn’t grasped the gravity of the situation; most were merely bystanders, especially one whose darkened expression was downright frightening.

Though only a few days had passed, Wang Chuqin’s disheveled appearance was already taking shape, a far cry from the meticulously groomed, handsome college student who used to meet his girlfriend every day.

No matter how unhappy Wang Chuqin was, no matter how stubbornly he maintained the silent cold war, it couldn’t change the coaching staff’s decision: his mixed doubles pairing was dismantled.

So every day, Wang Chuqin stubbornly clung to the silence of their cold war while secretly hoping his girlfriend would come find him. Alas, his hopes were in vain.

Duán Nánzhōu was far too busy. All her available time in the training hall was devoted to her new partner Lin Gaoyuan, and the rest was commandeered by the coaching staff. Thus, not only Wang Chuqin but the entire national team hardly saw her—except for Lin Gaoyuan.

In no time, the competition arrived.

Everyone began matches with their new partners. This competition was a preparation for upcoming international mixed doubles battles, so various internal pairings appeared on the court.

Cameras captured every angle for convenient post-match review.

The matches were drawn by group, and Wang Chuqin and Duán Nánzhōu were placed in different groups, so they didn’t face each other directly.

Yet, watching Wang Chuqin’s fierce intensity on the court and his unwavering gaze fixed on Duán Nánzhōu’s group when off the court revealed just how much he cared.

As for Duán Nánzhōu, she barely paid attention to her boyfriend. After all, this guy was currently very stubborn—he’d call her every night, but refuse to speak or hang up the video, and she could only respond with terse “Oh,” “Mm,” or “Okay,” which infuriated her.

Even with a calm temperament, Duán Nánzhōu often felt like slapping him—he really deserved it. Yet she didn’t escalate the cold war; instead, she kept initiating video calls but fell silent herself. Thus, for an entire hour, their video calls were filled with mutual silent staring.

Once on the court, Duán Nánzhōu would throw all those feelings aside, focusing wholeheartedly on coordinating with her new partner, striving for the best synergy.

Both teams proceeded smoothly: on one side, the consistently strong “Great Demon King,” and on the other, the fiercely spirited “Rebellious Big Head.” Both cut through opponents until finally facing each other.

Their partners, watching the former couple now turned rivals, fell silent.

Lin Gaoyuan remarked, “Bro, Big Head’s glare looks like he wants to stab me.”

Wang Manyu said, “Why does Big Head look so scruffy without Duán Nánzhōu? And that look in his eyes is really scary!”

The match felt like a storm of blood and fury on the court, while the spectators off the court were all just watching the drama unfold.

The national team members in the audience gossiped excitedly; the coaching staff pretended to be serious in the front row but couldn’t hide their amusement.

Duán Nánzhōu glanced at the man opposite her for a few seconds and fell silent.

Who is this? This scruffy, messy-haired, weathered-looking man—is he really her boyfriend?

At that moment, Duán Nánzhōu had to admit she was completely superficial. Part of the reason she had been attracted to Big Head was precisely because he had finally abandoned his eccentric style and started to look like a fresh-faced young man, making their relationship possible.

Now, she suddenly felt it might be better to be rid of this boyfriend—how had he grown so ugly all of a sudden?

If Wang Chuqin had heard this thought, he would probably have roared, “Is our love so fragile? I never imagined you’d be such a shallow woman, only caring about looks!”

Then, he’d start paying more attention to his appearance.

Fearing she might want to break up after looking too much, Duán Nánzhōu decisively looked away and never once glanced at Wang Chuqin again during the match, focusing instead on the game or discussing tactics with her partner.

Wang Chuqin, confused and unsure what was going on, thought: She’s not looking at me? Cold war? Even angrier now.

Turned around, Duán Nánzhōu whispered tactics to Lin Gaoyuan—mostly about how she should attack this ball—leaning in close to speak quietly due to the low volume.

Wang Chuqin, equally furious, turned away and discussed with Wang Manyu. It was just serve tactics, after all—who didn’t know how to serve?

Unfortunately, Wang Chuqin’s mind wasn’t quick enough to outwit Duán Nánzhōu, and he ultimately lost to his own girlfriend.

After the match, Wang Chuqin wanted to sneak close to her, but saw that she didn’t even glance at him. She patted Lin Gaoyuan, signaling him to follow, and the backs of the two walked farther and farther away.

Watching them walk off, deep in conversation and never looking back, Wang Chuqin’s eyes widened. They just left like that?

Duán Nánzhōu thought, What else? Should we stay and stand awkwardly together, not speaking?

Wang Chuqin, anticipating this thought, grew even more upset.

Meanwhile, Duán Nánzhōu reviewed the match feedback and their mixed doubles strategies with Lin Gaoyuan as they walked.

Lin Gaoyuan nodded repeatedly, marveling inwardly: How does her brain work so well? They just finished playing, and she already analyzed their coordination methods—I’d love to have a brain like that.

Wang Chuqin stood alone, sulking at the side of the court. He angrily gulped down two bottles of water, still feeling unsatisfied. He crushed the empty bottles to soothe himself a bit.

Wang Manyu, who had observed everything, thought: My partner seems like a fool. Maybe I should just leave first.

She quickly packed her bag, grabbed her things, and strode away alone.

…

Of course, the footage of today’s match circulated first within the national team. Wang Chuqin, who had always paid great attention to his image since dating, had never appeared so unkempt in public competition before.

Retired players Fang Bo and Yan An even took screenshots to mock their younger teammate. These were all embarrassing photos and had to be saved!

During a three-minute group video call, two and a half minutes were filled with their ruthless laughter, and the rest was showing Wang Chuqin their screenshot memes.

The three minutes weren’t just the end of their mockery—it was Wang Chuqin’s limit of endurance. Now he had to endure both the pain of their cold war and the relentless teasing from his “older brothers,” a multi-front assault.

However, since this was not a major tournament, few people paid attention. Most were table tennis enthusiasts who didn’t care about athletes’ appearances.

Later, numerous fans uncovered the video, highlighting Wang Chuqin’s appearance.

Especially the moment when the couple faced off—fans compared their entire demeanor, dubbing Wang Chuqin the “Killer Guy,” who looked unkempt and just wanted his girlfriend to glance his way, versus Duán Nánzhōu, the “Ruthless Lady,” who only aimed to win and refused to look at her now-ugly boyfriend. Not to mention the national team sitting in the audience, enjoying the spectacle.

Fans marked this period as the “Cold War” or “Divorce Phase,” believing the couple was quarreling.

Everyone noticed how rough and obviously uglier Wang Chuqin looked compared to usual during this “Divorce Phase.” Had he stopped caring about his appearance after being away from his girlfriend?

…

After the competition ended,

Wang Chuqin was still sulking over whether to find Duán Nánzhōu, but his hesitation soon became pointless.

He realized Duán Nánzhōu no longer called him at night. Panic set in—he was just throwing a tantrum, not wanting a breakup!

So Wang Chuqin began calling and video calling, but usually got replies like “Too busy,” “Talk later,” or no answer at all. Even when they did video chat at night, Duán Nánzhōu would fall asleep after exchanging a few words.

Feeling this was unacceptable, Wang Chuqin wanted to find her in person, but she was rarely at the training hall, and the coaching staff always replied, “She’s busy.”

Wang Chuqin anxiously feared one day waking up to a text saying, “Let’s break up.”

With the World Table Tennis Championships approaching, the national team’s training was intense. Wang Chuqin couldn’t keep his phone on him all the time and could only contact Duán Nánzhōu during brief breaks. Their conversations often missed each other’s timing, with long waits for replies.

Late at night, Wang Chuqin couldn’t sleep, filled with wild thoughts. Didn’t this feel like the prelude to a breakup? They hadn’t seen each other, and their video calls barely lasted a few words before ending. He felt there was no way to reconcile, and yet he was holding back his own hurt—he was truly aggrieved too.

Duán Nánzhōu, on the other hand, had no such thoughts. She was simply overwhelmed with work. Before, she could coax her boyfriend more, but now she just wanted to collapse into bed. Besides, with her stubborn boyfriend refusing to speak during video calls, what was there to say?

Meanwhile, Wang Chuqin, believing he was making every effort to communicate and reconcile, in reality was:

Calling and video chatting silently, staring at each other without speaking, forcing a smile that was actually stiff, and so forth.

Duán Nánzhōu, fighting sleep while watching him, thought: Is this your idea of friendliness?

So she usually just said “Good night” and hung up quickly, refusing to waste her precious sleep time—not even for her boyfriend.