3 Wang Chuqin

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Women’s team dormitory.

After an entire afternoon of team evaluations, Duan Nanzhou felt somewhat fatigued, though still within her limits; after all, the days forced by the system to train were truly grueling.

When Duan Nanzhou returned to the dormitory, she stared silently at her unopened suitcase, feeling utterly reluctant to unpack.

But glancing around the empty room, she realized she had to at least change the bedding before she could lie down and rest.

Duan Nanzhou sighed inwardly—her heart was truly weary. She thought to herself that perhaps she should have refused more firmly back then; now, she could have been living a laid-back life.

The national table tennis dormitories mostly housed two people per room. Duan Nanzhou glanced at the small bed with the blue blanket next to hers, wondering who her roommate might be.

Her question was soon answered when her roommate returned, accompanied by several other female team members. They carried cups and various daily necessities, all wearing bright smiles as they approached Duan Nanzhou.

“Hello, Nanzhou! Welcome to our big family of the national table tennis team!” Ding Ning stepped forward as the spokesperson, warmly greeting her.

The group then cheerfully began tidying up Duan Nanzhou’s bedding, chatting animatedly as they introduced their daily routines, leaving no room for Duan Nanzhou to get a word in.

Finally, sensing Duan Nanzhou’s exhaustion like a caring elder sister, Ding Ning led the team members away.

“Nanzhou, you just arrived today, so rest well first. We’ll have plenty of time to get to know each other later,” she said kindly.

With that, the group quickly departed, leaving only Duan Nanzhou’s roommate—adorable Sun Yingsha—behind.

“Hi, just call me Nanzhou. I’m very glad to be your roommate,” Duan Nanzhou took the initiative to greet this time.

Her proactive approach made Sun Yingsha immensely happy. From her previous observations, this new friend seemed rather indifferent to everyone, and she worried that Duan Nanzhou might not want to engage with her.

That night, Sun Yingsha drifted off to sleep dreaming of becoming close friends with her beautiful roommate.

…

The daily training was monotonous and long, but the month flew by quickly.

In that month, Duan Nanzhou fully integrated into the national team’s training life. She became familiar with most of the female team members.

For example, her good roommate Sun Yingsha now called her “Zhouzhou” every day, often sticking close together, and loved sparring with her the most.

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Duan Nanzhou wasn’t sure why, but her good friend Sun Yingsha seemed to see her through rose-colored glasses—lately, her catchphrase was “our strongest Zhouzhou.”

However, Duan Nanzhou also liked this friend, who was serious during matches but mischievous and adorable in private. Her favorite thing was playing with Sun Yingsha’s little face; pinching it always made Duan Nanzhou happy.

For the sake of her friend’s rare smiles, Sun Yingsha endured patiently.

Through these days of interaction, most of the national team got a clearer picture of Duan Nanzhou’s personality: just as they had thought at first glance, she was a cool girl who appeared indifferent to the outside world and somewhat aloof.

But Sun Yingsha, sharing the same room, saw more beneath the surface—her friend was sharp-witted with a dark sense of humor, and behind that seemingly cold exterior was a playful and amusing soul. So she decided this friend was hers for good, thinking to herself, “Dominant Sasa has made her choice.”

“Manyu, Zhouzhou, let’s go eat,” Sun Yingsha called out as mealtime approached. She was passionate about food, believing firmly that “people are iron, rice is steel—skip a meal and you’ll starve.”

But why, despite eating the same meals, did she have a little belly while Manyu’s was flat and Zhouzhou’s showed abs? Where was the problem?

This question lingered in Sun Yingsha’s mind for only three seconds before her attention shifted back to what they would have for lunch.

Duan Nanzhou had little expectation for the national team’s cafeteria. Although the food was decent, it was still cafeteria fare and could become tiresome after a while. She didn’t understand why Yingsha was always so eager to see what was on the menu, but it didn’t stop Duan Nanzhou from eating heartily—after all, her sports training demanded plenty of nourishment.

The cafeteria buzzed with laughter, chatter, and gossip.

Even after a month, Duan Nanzhou remained the center of attention; everyone still seemed curious about her.

Liu Guoliang had plenty to say about this:

Over the past month, everyone had come to recognize Duan Nanzhou’s talent and learning ability in table tennis. A prodigy amongst prodigies was always a hot topic. While her rapid progress had initially shocked everyone, over time they became somewhat numb to it—but it didn’t stop them from showering her with colorful praise and admiration.

At the same time, Duan Nanzhou’s appearance had caused a stir among the young men’s team members. Adolescents were naturally restless, and their hearts easily stirred.

Liu Guoliang even contemplated having Duan Nanzhou cut her long hair super short, but reconsidered—it seemed unnecessary. Her face alone attracted attention, and cutting her hair might backfire by drawing even more female team members’ admiration. So he never brought up the topic again.

Until Duan Nanzhou herself, tired of the hassle of washing long hair, finally chopped it off. This was a style the system had insisted on maintaining as an idol’s trademark, but she defied it, ushering in her era of blunt short hair.

Just a few days after the haircut, Liu Guoliang noticed some female team members who had stubbornly refused to cut their hair also started adopting similar short styles—though without quite capturing the same effect.

Thus, Liu Guoliang sensed that if Duan Nanzhou became famous, she would inevitably face fierce storms—both fervent admirers and staunch critics—polarizing into two extremes.

That was only Liu’s current perspective.

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Meanwhile, Duan Nanzhou mechanically ate her lunch, finding it increasingly unappetizing. She wondered when she would get a chance to improve the meals. As she ate, she silently complained.

“By the way, Zhouzhou, are you going to train with the men’s team this afternoon?” Sun Yingsha suddenly remembered.

“Yes.”

“Oh, the men’s team is in for a treat! They’ve probably been looking forward to this all day!” Sun Yingsha said with a hint of envy. She wished she could train with her Zhouzhou too—how unfair.

This arrangement was unique within the national team. Generally, the men’s and women’s teams trained separately, occasionally exchanging techniques. Differences in physical strength meant training methods varied.

However, Liu Guoliang had specifically instructed that Duan Nanzhou join the men’s team training weekly. Despite this special rule, most people thought it only natural. After all, after a month of Duan Nanzhou’s relentless pressure, the women’s team had all experienced her overwhelming skill and had grown accustomed to it.

A saying circulated among the women’s team:

“Whatever happens, don’t be like Duan Nanzhou!”

And so, Duan Nanzhou became a term in itself.

Liu Guoliang’s reason for having her join men’s training was simple: her progress was so rapid that the women’s team could no longer satisfy her learning needs. Training with the men’s team would push her even further.

Another point Liu was observing was that Duan Nanzhou didn’t just analyze opponents’ playing styles—she even upgraded and countered their tactics.

He had noticed this once during a casual sparring session. Duan Nanzhou not only broke down her opponent’s style but took it a step further by using an enhanced version of their own technique against them.

That spontaneous experiment caught Liu Guoliang’s eye. He realized Duan Nanzhou had a greater potential use—not just for herself, but for the entire national team.

Since the main players were mostly at their peak, their progress had slowed. Now, with Duan Nanzhou—a versatile learning and mimicking machine who could assimilate and transform techniques into her own skills—it was a game-changer, benefiting not only herself but the whole team.

This was Liu Guoliang’s intent in making this decision, though it inadvertently excited some of the young men. Since hearing that Duan Nanzhou would regularly train with the men’s team, their cheekbones seemed permanently elevated in giddy anticipation.

Later, when Liu Guoliang realized he had become a “matchmaker” promoting team development, he couldn’t help but laugh at himself—but that’s a story for another time.