Who would still play tennis after being reborn?

Chapter 171 First Match Against Djokovic

As the Melbourne sunrise just dipped over the dome of Rod Laver Arena, the CCTV5 studio on BJ Fuxing Road was already fully lit up.

The host, Hu Li, was adjusting his tie in front of the camera. The large screen behind him was divided into four screens: on the left was Gu Cheng's final warm-up at the training ground, on the right was Djokovic's pre-match prayer, and the two small windows below showed the two players' head-to-head record (0 times) and the odds changes (Gu Cheng 1.85 vs Djokovic 1.95).

Clearly, the outside world is more inclined to believe that Gu Cheng, who is making his Australian Open debut, will win this match.

However, the odds for both sides are actually not that different.

The previous number one seed, Djokovic, did have a chance.

"Dear viewers, welcome to the live broadcast of the quarterfinals of the 2025 Australian Open."

Hu Li's voice was transmitted via satellite to tens of millions of televisions across the country: "This match has been called a 'crossroads in the evolution of tennis' by foreign media - Chinese player Gu Cheng will challenge the current world number one Novak Djokovic. The clash between the new and the old will soon reveal the answer on this hard court."

Three tactical diagrams were laid out in front of the commentator Tong Xin. One of them circled Gu Cheng's backhand area in red: "According to the data from the first three rounds, Gu Cheng's backhand success rate is 22 percentage points lower than his forehand success rate, but 43% of his serves are aimed at the opponent's backhand."

This is a classic example of 'offense as defense.' Djokovic's tactics are clear: to draw Gu Cheng down from the net and force him into baseline rallies.

On the live data screen in the studio, the audience interactive voting is being updated: 51% of the audience thinks Gu Cheng will win the first game, 33% support Djokovic, and the remaining 16% choose "hard to say".

Hu Li pointed to this data: "It's obvious that everyone realizes how suspenseful this match is. Notice Gu Cheng's ball toss training; his arm swing is 15 degrees smaller than last year, which is an adjustment made to increase the speed of his serve."

At this moment, staff at Rod Laver Arena are using a moisture meter to check the ground.

The humidity level is 18% – which is advantageous for Gu Cheng's serve, as the dry air can make the ball faster.

Meanwhile, Djokovic's strength and conditioning coach was adding electrolyte powder to his water bottle. This orange liquid helps maintain muscle endurance in high temperatures, with the afternoon temperature in Melbourne already reaching 32 degrees Celsius.

When the referee, Mirkina, walked toward the net with a gold-plated silver coin in her hand, the cheers from the crowd suddenly dropped by half a note.

This coin, featuring a centenary design for the Australian Open, will determine who serves first—in professional tennis, the right to serve in the first game is as important as the right to kick off in a football match, especially when the two sides are evenly matched.

Gu Cheng stood on the left side of the net, the sunlight shining directly on his profile, his eyelashes casting dappled shadows on his cheeks.

His racket is angled at his shoulder, with the strings stretched 3 pounds more than the ATP average. This allows for more accurate volleys, but also makes the strings more prone to breaking.

Djokovic stood on the right, a small cross badge pinned to the collar of his blue tracksuit, his lucky charm for every match.

"Gu Cheng, will you choose the front or the back?" Milkina asked in her Serbian accent.

Gu Cheng looked up, his gaze sweeping over the tennis ball design on the coin: "Heads."

His voice was slightly lower than usual, and a little hoarse from nervousness.

Djokovic suddenly smiled and said in fluent English, "You know what? When I won the title here for the first time, I also guessed heads."

This statement startled Gu Cheng.

He hadn't expected the tennis legend to strike up a conversation, and the broadcast cameras caught a blush creeping up his ears. "I've seen the replay of that match," he said.

Gu Cheng's reply was tinged with shyness, "No one has been able to replicate your backhand straight shot to this day."

"But your serve,"

Djokovic's eyes swept over Gu Cheng's racket, "He's like a 'cannonball' more than anyone I've ever seen—Gulikson's analogy is very apt."

He deliberately emphasized the word "cannonball," his tone carrying a subtle hint of challenge.

Becker, standing in the stands, suddenly said to Gulikson, "Novak is playing a psychological game; he wants Gu Cheng to realize that he is being studied."

Meanwhile, McEnroe in the guest seat wrote in his notebook: "The conversation lasted 27 seconds. Djokovic's heart rate was stable at 85 beats per minute, while Gu Cheng's was 102 beats per minute—this is where the difference in experience lies."

Milkina held up the coin, her fingertips gleaming in the sunlight.

"Ready?" Her arm paused in mid-air for half a second before she released her fingers.

The coin spun upwards, the airflow making it hum softly, like a bee flapping its wings.

Gu Cheng's gaze followed the coin's movement, his pupils slightly contracting—his visual capture speed was 0.05 seconds faster than the average person, allowing him to determine the coin's heads or tails earlier.

Djokovic, on the other hand, kept his eyes level, as if he were looking at a falling leaf.

The coin spun 11 times in the air before falling, and the sound of the metal edge cutting through the air was clearly audible.

When it bounced on the hard surface, the sound of the entire audience's breathing seemed to be amplified tenfold.

The first bounce was backwards, the second spin turned it forwards, and it finally came to a steady stop next to the white sideline—the tennis ball pattern facing Gu Cheng.

"Headline, Gu Cheng serves first." Milkina's gesture was crisp and clean.

Gu Cheng gripped the racket tightly, his knuckles turning white from the force.

Djokovic patted him on the shoulder, a gesture that conveyed both the respect of a senior for a junior and a veiled "bring it on" attitude. "I hope your cannonballs can break through my defense," the Serbian said with a laugh, "otherwise it will be quite boring."

"My interception is also waiting for you." Gu Cheng's answer was much more resolute than before.

As the two players returned to their respective halves of the court, the broadcast camera gave the coin a close-up: sunlight pierced through the metal surface, casting fragmented spots of light on the ground, much like the unpredictable course of the game.

Tong Xin, commentating from the CCTV5 commentary booth, suddenly said: "Pay attention to Djokovic's footsteps when he turns around. He is measuring the distance of Gu Cheng's position - that's the detail. He even remembers his opponent's habitual position."

The anemometer on the sidelines showed a crosswind of 3.2 meters per second, which will be a test of the accuracy of the serve.

Gu Cheng bent down and tightened his shoelaces, making an extra loop in the knot compared to the standard way—this was his little trick to prevent slipping.

Djokovic dribbled the ball at the baseline, each bounce controlled to a height of about 60 centimeters—his signature move when he gets into the game. Suddenly, all the lights on the electronic scoreboard lit up, the red "GAME 1" standing out prominently in the sunlight.

The ball boys on duty kneel down and arrange six yellow tennis balls in a fan shape in front of them—this is the standard way to arrange the balls at the Australian Open, with the spacing accurate to 30 centimeters.

Milkina glanced at her watch; the hour hand pointed exactly to 11:00 local time.

"Time to play!" she raised her right hand, her voice carrying across the stadium through the microphone.

Gu Cheng slowly raised his tossing hand, Djokovic's center of gravity lowered, and the wave of glow sticks in the stands suddenly stopped—this highly anticipated showdown finally saw the first serve whistle 27 seconds after the coin landed.

When the referee, Milkina, finished checking the net tension, the air conditioning system at Rod Laver Arena suddenly turned down by two degrees.

This subtle temperature change, intended to prevent players' sweat from evaporating too quickly, froze the wave of glow sticks in the stands for half a second—all 23771 spectators held their breath simultaneously, and even the wind blowing from the Yara River swirled around the stadium.

Gu Cheng stood on the white lime line in the right service area, the rubber soles of his sneakers making a barely audible sound as they scraped against the hard surface.

His tossing hand hovered about 15 centimeters above his right shoulder, with traces of tape from the previous night still visible on his fingertips.

According to official ATP data, the 16-year-old Chinese player had a first serve win rate of 89% at this year's Australian Open, but at this moment his Adam's apple was making a third swallowing motion—Djokovic's position was a full half step back compared to the video, right outside the blind spot of his best inside serve.

The Serbian's blue headband absorbed the sweat from his forehead, and his racket face gleamed coldly in the sunlight.

The broadcast cameras captured a detail: Djokovic's left index finger wrapped an extra half-circle around the handle of his racket, a signature grip adjustment he makes when dealing with powerful serves.

Becker, standing in the stands, suddenly leaned forward in the VIP section and whispered to Gulikson beside him, "Novak is calculating the parabola; he knows that Gu Cheng's throw height will be 12 centimeters lower than average."

电子记分牌的数字从“00:00”跳成“00:01”时，顾诚的抛球动作用了 0.8秒——比德约科维奇快 0.2秒，但弧度更平。

The racket's whistling sound at the moment of impact exceeded 85 decibels, and the red number on the speedometer froze at 237 kilometers per hour. The serve grazed the white paint on the center post, deflected to the left, and landed 3 millimeters outside the sideline on Djokovic's backhand side.

"OUT!" The line judge's shout was drowned out by a tsunami of sighs of regret.

As Gu Cheng bent down to pick up the ball, Zhou Mingyuan, an elderly man in the stands, suddenly stood up, the 2008 badge on his canvas bag jingling. "It's exactly the same ball as the one in the 2011 Wimbledon final!"

He told the young people around him that Djokovic used the same stance to break Federer's serve that year.

The ball was tossed 3 centimeters lower in the rematch. Gu Cheng's left shoulder dropped 5 degrees more than usual; this was the "hidden start signal" marked in the dynamic model by the mechanical engineer's "serving machine".

The racket suddenly changes its angle 0.03 seconds before contact with the ball, and the acute angle formed by the racket face and the ground is 11 degrees smaller than that of a standard flat serve—this is a typical characteristic of "nonlinear force generation" analyzed in the special issue of "Sports Biomechanics".

The moment the ball leaves the racket, Djokovic's sliding step has already begun.

His right toe traced a semi-arc on the ground, and his knee was bent at a precise 110-degree angle, a posture that increased his defensive range by 15%.

As the ball hurtles toward the sideline with strong sidespin, his backhand becomes as taut as a sheet of iron, and the contact point is 20 centimeters higher than a conventional defense—this is the "golden contact point against spin" that Gulikson repeatedly emphasizes.

The return shot grazed the net like a silver lightning bolt, and Gu Cheng suddenly darted towards the net.

His footwork was 0.1 seconds faster than the ATP average, leaving crisscrossing scratches on the ground.

Just as the ball was about to cross the net, his Eastern-style grip suddenly shifted 15 degrees, and the racket face spun out half a circle like a folding fan. This was the prelude to the "fatal volley" that Tong Xin analyzed in the video.

"Bang!" The ball landed in Djokovic's forehand corner, and a wave of cheers suddenly erupted from the orange area on the upper level of the stands.

When the young man wearing an LED light sign jumped up, the battery box hit the railing with a dull thud.

The broadcast immediately switched to slow motion replay, and the sequence of Gu Cheng's fingers exerting force while gripping the racket was marked with a green arrow—his index finger suddenly applied pressure 0.02 seconds before contacting the ball, which caused a strange shift in the ball's axis of rotation.

The Reddit tennis section's live chat section was flooded with 5000 comments in an instant.

The dynamic model of the "serving machine" is being updated: "The racket head speed reaches 72 km/h when volleying, which is 9 km/h faster than Djokovic! This kind of power is simply impossible to defend against."

In the "Old Hands Chat Room" on Hupu, someone posted a GIF of Wimbledon: "Look at how Djokovic responded back then, he will adjust his position."

Djokovic's serve toss had a perfect arc and was 12 centimeters higher than Gu Cheng's.

When the racket hits the ball at its highest point, the entire court seems to fall silent for half a second—this is a typical characteristic of a "precision-guided missile" serve. The speedometer shows 198 km/h, but the landing point error is no more than 5 centimeters.

The ball landed in the inside corner of Gu Cheng's backhand side, forming a tricky angle right at the intersection of the service line and the sideline.

Gu Cheng's movements, however, exhibited a bizarre behavior that defied the laws of physics.

His right foot was still in place, but his body seemed to be pulled to the left by an invisible thread, and his racket seemed to have a mind of its own, aiming at the trajectory of the ball half a second in advance.

Just as the ball was about to hit the ground, he suddenly swung his forehand from an incredible angle, and the return ball flew along the sideline, grazing Djokovic's feet and disappearing into the corner.

Becker, standing in the stands, suddenly sat up straight, the words "Tezuka's Domain" circled three times in his notebook.

This mysterious technique, described in the comics as "capable of directing all incoming balls to one's optimal hitting point," is now demonstrating astonishing power in reality.

The editor-in-chief of the journal "Sports Biomechanics" pushed up his glasses in the audience, his pen scribbling messy lines on his notebook: "A nerve reaction speed 0.2 seconds faster than normal is completely inconsistent with known sports science."

Djokovic stared at the spot where the ball landed, his brow furrowing slightly.

As he walked toward the net to retrieve the ball, he deliberately paused at the spot where the ball had landed—the ball mark there was 1 millimeter deeper than a normal shot, indicating that the racket angle when returning the ball was extremely tricky.

The broadcast camera captured the subtle movement of his wrist as he adjusted his grip, a signal that he was preparing for long rallies.

The real-time data of the "ultimate prediction" poll on Weibo fluctuated: Gu Cheng's support rate among those under 25 years old suddenly rose by 3%. A user named "The Prince of Tennis Fiction Critic" posted a long article: "This is not a simple prediction. Look at the angle of his ankle rotation. It's a complete reproduction of the 'absolute territory' from the manga! Djokovic's database does not contain this kind of playing style."

On a Serbian tennis forum, someone posted a video of Djokovic training: "He has studied all unconventional techniques, including those weird moves in street tennis."

(End of this chapter)