radicalducati Chapter 20 MV, Fan Zhendong
Chapter 20 MV, Fan Zhendong
November 3, Huangshi.
When Gao Huan came out of the hotel, it was still dark.
In the mornings of this riverside town, the mist, thick with moisture, clings damply to the skin, a chill unlike that of the capital.
The film crew arrived a day early.
The team consisted of six people, two cinema-grade cameras, one drone, and three large boxes of lighting equipment.
Yangyang Jin sat in the passenger seat flipping through the itinerary as the three cars filed out of the hotel.
Gao Huan's RV led the way, followed by two work vehicles.
The RV is brand new, a Mercedes-Benz Sprinter 324H, the "mobile palace" of the RV world.
The interior is upholstered in burgundy red leather, the bar is inlaid with ambient lighting, the four rear airline seats can be fully reclined to form a bed, and the faucets in the private bathroom are chrome-plated.
There was a bottle of red wine warming in the refrigerator, and a bunch of white lisianthus on the countertop, which Gao Beibei had asked Yangyang to put there.
This car cost over three million yuan when it was purchased.
The first thing Gao Huan said after getting on the bus was, "This seat is alright to lie on," and he didn't say anything more.
Yangyang Jin confirmed the schedule: Fan Zhendong would train until 10 a.m., and filming would take place from 10 a.m. to 10:30 a.m.
He has another match at 2 PM, and we'll add a few more shots after that.
As the car turned into the stadium parking lot, Gao Huan saw a group of people walking out of the athletes' tunnel. The one at the front was wearing a dark blue training uniform, his hat pulled low, his back slightly hunched, and his steps firm.
Fan Zhendong.
Gao Huan opened the car door and got out.
……
Inside the training hall, the crisp sound of billiard balls hitting the table, mixed with the scraping sound of rubber rubbing against each other, bounced back and forth in the empty space.
Fan Zhendong was executing a series of forehand loops, and the sound of his racket swinging out carried a sense of reckless determination.
Gao Huan stood still on the sidelines, not in a hurry to speak.
He waited until the ball was finished and Fan Zhendong bent down to pick it up before saying, "Zhendong, hello. I'm Gao Huan."
Fan Zhendong put his racket on the table and wiped the sweat from his face with a towel.
He looks thinner and stronger than he does on TV, with broad shoulders.
Standing next to him was a man in a light blue sports jacket—Wang Hao, the new head coach of the Bayi team, who had just retired and taken over the team.
The thirty-year-old man had the scrutinizing look typical of a coach. He put his hands in his pockets, didn't say anything, and just nodded at Gao Huan.
After Gao Huan explained the intention behind the music video shoot, Fan Zhendong's reply was brief: "What do you need me to do?"
Wang Hao added from the side, "It won't affect training."
Gao Huan looked into Fan Zhendong's eyes and said, "Don't worry about the cameras, just play basketball, and pretend we don't exist."
The camera was mounted on the side of the table.
Gao Huan stood at the other end and began feeding the ball.
His physique had been systematically enhanced, and his motor nerves were extremely agile.
The table tennis balls landed precisely with moderate spin.
Fan Zhendong glanced at Gao Huan as he received the third shot.
Confirm that the person opposite you didn't just throw the ball randomly; confirm that they have a certain level of skill.
Then he started to increase his power. His forehand swing was like a knife tearing through the air, and the ball bounced off the table in a tricky arc.
Gao Huan caught the ball.
I sliced it, reduced the force, and placed it on my backhand side.
Fan Zhendong chased after him, and with a backhand flick, he hit another shot, this time even faster than before.
After more than a dozen consecutive strikes, Gao Huan suddenly stopped.
Even if we can't catch it all, that's enough.
He saw the unwavering determination in those eyes.
"That's enough," Gao Huan said, giving an OK sign.
The cameraman captured the moment Fan Zhendong bent down to pick up the ball in the frame.
The silhouette of a towel draped over his shoulders, sweat dripping down his jawline, made him look like an unsheathed knife.
After filming ended, Fan Zhendong didn't rush to leave.
Gao Huan took a letter out of his bag and handed it over: "My aunt is your fan."
Inside the envelope was a piece of paper with handwritten notes—
"Zhendong, it's like seeing you in person after reading this letter."
I wish you success in becoming a world Grand Slam champion soon.
I will always cheer you on. Gao Beibei.
Fan Zhendong looked at the unfamiliar name and flipped the book over.
A sheet of old billiard hall ticket was pasted on the bottom right corner of the letter, with a handwritten note that read, "This ticket was left by her when she watched you play a game."
Fan Zhendong carefully folded the envelope and tucked it into his notebook.
After hesitating for a moment, he said, "Brother Huan, please thank Auntie for me."
"Okay, good luck in the competition," Gao Huan replied.
……
At 1 PM, the men's team round of 8 finals will begin.
Gao Huan sat in the stands.
He doesn't often sit at this angle.
In the past, we always watched it on TV. The pool table was like a framed canvas, and the players' movements were limited to a fixed area by the camera.
But sitting in the audience is different.
In the first match, Fan Zhendong took to the court.
The moment the boy in the red team uniform stepped onto the court, Gao Huan felt the temperature in the entire stadium change.
Everyone's eyes were focused on this one point.
The opponent is Xu Ruifeng from the Sichuan team, who is a full round older than Fan Zhendong.
The score was 11-9 in the first game.
11:5.
In the third game, Fan Zhendong extended his lead to 3-0 with a score of 11-7.
They were noticeably more relaxed in the fourth inning.
The score went back and forth, and when it reached 8-8 in the middle of the game, Gao Huan heard someone shout behind him. He couldn't make out what they were saying, but there was an indescribable anxiety in their voice.
I don't know which fan it is.
Fan Zhendong attacked his next two serves successfully, and finally scored directly with a backhand topspin on the return of serve.
The moment the match ended, the live stream on the big screen switched to the stands.
Gao Huan's face appeared on the four large screens hanging above the venue.
He was speaking to Yangyang Jin with his head slightly turned to the side, and the screenshot of that person's profile was captured in front of everyone.
Yangyang Jin nudged him with her elbow: "Brother Huan, the big screen."
Gao Huan looked up and saw a face in a black hoodie in the picture.
With deep-set eyes and a high nose bridge, the beauty mark at the corner of her eye was magnified into a close-up on camera.
He was startled.
That expression was captured frame by frame in the live broadcast, and the director cut to a moment where he was clearly unaware that he was being filmed, looking dazed.
Someone in the stands turned to look in this direction, and Gao Huan nodded to the camera.
The live chat and comment section exploded instantly.
"Holy crap, is that Gao Huan? Gao Huan is watching billiards?"
"The director is so perceptive; the first shot after the match ends is of Gao Huan."
"No, look at Gao Huan's expression, he's so impressed with his own handsomeness, hahaha."
He wasn't looking at his phone and didn't know he was trending. He pulled up the hood of his hoodie to cover half his face.
Yangyang Jin had already opened her phone and started taking screenshots.
She sent a screenshot of the most popular profile picture to the work group, adding four words: "Trending topic guaranteed."
……
The competition ended around 5 p.m.
Fan Zhendong scored his point, and the PLA team defeated Sichuan 3-1 to advance.
In the athletes' tunnel, Gao Huan stood at the corner of the corridor and waited for a while.
When Fan Zhendong came out, he still had a towel around his neck and his hair was still damp with sweat.
"Zhen Dong, congratulations!"
"Thanks, Huan-ge."
The filming of post-match footage was arranged in advance.
The staff set up the equipment, and Fan Zhendong stood by the table tennis table. He didn't pose in any particular way; he just looked like he normally does on the court.
Yangyang Jin retreated to a corner and adjusted the angle of the reflector.
Gao Huan returned the bottle opener and didn't give many instructions.
"Just stand there, you don't need to look at the camera."
Fan Zhendong didn't move.
The light fell on the collar of his jersey, that deep red spot looked like a medal.
After the shoot, Gao Huan took a small box out of his bag and handed it over.
"What is it?"
"Open it and take a look."
Fan Zhendong lifted the lid of the box. Inside the box was not some precious metal, but an original vinyl record—American singer Taylor Swift's fifth studio album, "1989".
The album also features her signature, with the message in English: "Thank you for your support, Fan Zhendong. I wish you success in winning your solo world championship soon!"
"Brother Huan, I can't accept this."
Fan Zhendong didn't reach out to take it, but instead looked down at the album.
Gao Huan held up the album casually, saying, "It's just a small gift. Every medal you win is the most precious gift to us table tennis enthusiasts."
Fan Zhendong didn't speak immediately, as if he was thinking about something.
Gao Huan closed the box and shoved it directly into Fan Zhendong's hand.
After work, a reporter from CCTV's sports channel, who happened to be there for an interview, asked Fan Zhendong, "Did you know Gao Huan before?"
Fan Zhendong thought for a moment.
"We just met today, but I already feel like we're friends."
……