Chapter 1 — Bridge Yard Beats

The sound of the shuttlecock hitting the racket surface echoed loudly in the gymnasium of the National Badminton Training Center, mixed with the sound of rubber shoes rubbing on the shiny wooden floor. Dang Thao Vy backed up close to the baseline, her eyes fixed on the ball that was coming at a speed that only those who had practiced for many years could accurately judge the landing point.

She jumped up and swung her right arm with all her strength from her hip to her shoulder. The cross-court smash hit straight into the corner of the opponent's court with a speed that made a few scattered spectators in the stands admire. But her opponent - who had just been transferred from the reserve squad to practice sparring - was able to block it in time, pushing the ball towards Vy with a high clear that shot up to the ceiling of the arena.

"Go out!" The practice referee sat on a high chair and shouted loudly, pointing towards the touchline.

Vy stood still, sweat rolling down her forehead, unable to hide her disapproval. "The bridge fell close to the line, how could you count out?"

"Slow cameras are not available here, Vy," a deep, calm voice rang out from the side yard, where another practice session was taking place. Trinh Bao Long stood there, his hand holding the racket hanging down, his eyes looking over filled with undisguised criticism. "But looking at the angle, trajectory and force of your smash, the shuttlecock must have gone at least five centimeters outside the line. You always overestimate the accuracy of such reckless smashes."

"Who asked your opinion?" Vy turned around, her voice harsh. "I'm training with my opponent, not you."

"I'm just telling the truth," Long replied, his voice still so calm that it made others even more frustrated. "Your playing style is too emotional and lacks calculation. One day, that recklessness will cost you, not only with points but also with injuries."

"What about your playing style?" Vy walked closer to the net separating the two courts, her eyes unfazed by the opponent's almost cold composure. "Defensive to the point of timidity, waiting for the opponent to make a mistake instead of proactively creating opportunities. He plays bridge as if he's more afraid of losing than wanting to win."

The whole stadium suddenly fell silent, many young athletes practicing nearby stopped, curiously watching the war of words between the two brightest faces of the national team - one person is holding the number one position in the country in the women's singles event, the other person is the biggest hope in the men's singles content.

"That's enough, you two."

The majestic voice of head coach Do Anh Kiet rang out from the door of the gym, immediately making the whole space become orderly again. He walked in, with a sturdy figure even though he was over fifty, his sharp eyes swept over both students standing tensely facing each other.

"Vy, go to the medical room to check your ankle. I see you're a bit limp after the jump just now," he ordered, his voice not allowing for resistance. "Long, go to the meeting room, I need to discuss some important things."

Vy reluctantly nodded, glanced at Long angrily before walking towards the medical room, her hand still clenching the handle of the racket as if she wanted to vent all her remaining frustration. Long, on the contrary, just bowed slightly to the teacher and then quietly left the field, walking straight, without the slightest disturbance even though he had just gone through a tense argument.

In the small medical room at the end of the hallway, the team doctor briefly examined Vy's ankle and concluded that it was just a mild muscle strain and nothing to worry about. While waiting, Vy sat on the examination bed, looking out the window, still smoldering with anger at Long's comments.

"Are you arguing with Mr. Long again?"

Pham Ngoc Tram's familiar voice rang out from the medical room door. She walked in, her gait was a bit limping because she was still in the process of recovering from a knee injury that had lasted for half a year, holding a bottle of water to bring to her juniors.

"Miss Tram," Vy looked up, her face relaxing a bit when she saw her close teammate. "I can't help it, he acts like every blow I make is a mistake."

"Long is not completely wrong," Tram sat down next to Vy, her voice full of experience of a veteran athlete who has been in the badminton career for nearly ten years. "But the way he speaks is a bit hard to hear. Since childhood, Long has been trained in an extremely disciplined style, exacting down to the smallest detail, partly because of pressure from his family."

"The family has a three-generation badminton tradition, you know," Vy replied, her voice somewhat slack. "His grandfather and father were both national team coaches. The pressure to continue that tradition is probably not small."

"That's right," Tram nodded, her eyes becoming distant. "But don't let those words affect your playing mentality. Your attacking style of play is your biggest strength, don't let anyone make you doubt yourself."

Meanwhile, in the small meeting room on the second floor, Coach Kiet sat across from Long, his eyes seriously looking straight at his favorite student.

"Do you know why I called you up here?" he asked, his voice calm.

"I think you want to remind me about how to talk to teammates," Long replied, his voice sincere, not evasive.

"Partly correct," Coach Kiet nodded. "But I also want to ask you something else. What do you think about Thao Vy's abilities?"

Long pondered for a moment before answering, his eyes looking out the window where he could see the entire training ground area below. "I think, she has rare natural talent - speed, strength, sharp competitive instincts. But her undisciplined playing style, relying too much on emotions, makes her prone to making mistakes in important moments."

"Do you think, if trained properly, she could become one of the best athletes on the team?" Coach Kiet continued asking, his eyes searching.

"I think so," Long replied, without hesitation. "But I don't think I'm the right person to practice that. She doesn't like to listen to me, and to be honest, I'm not very good at communicating without making others feel criticized."

Coach Kiet smiled slightly, an unpredictable smile that made Long wonder about the true meaning behind the last question. "I'm just asking. Go home and rest, there's an important physical training session this afternoon."

That afternoon, during the team's general physical training session, the tense atmosphere between Vy and Long still lingered, even though they both tried to keep their distance and avoid direct contact. Vy focused on endurance running, her legs moving briskly on the treadmill, while Long was in the opposite weight area, his eyes occasionally unconsciously glancing towards her.

"Are you still angry at Long?" Dang Thao Nguyen, Vy's sixteen-year-old younger brother, asked when he stopped by the center after school to watch her practice, a habit he still maintains whenever he has free time.

"Not really angry," Vy replied, her voice still a bit harsh even though it had softened a lot. "Just annoying because of the way he always acts like he's right, as if careful, calculated play is the only right way to play."

"But he's not completely wrong," Nguyen commented, his voice innocent but no less sharp than that of a teenager who is also pursuing youth badminton. "You still get minor injuries because of your reckless flying moves."

"Even you are on his side?" Vy glared at her younger brother, but in her heart she couldn't help but admit some truth in that comment.

That evening, when she returned to her small room in the dormitory for team athletes, Vy lay on the bed, her eyes looking up at the ceiling, her heart still lingering with the uncomfortable feeling from the morning's argument. She took out her phone, reviewed the video recording of the practice session, and analyzed the controversial bridge smash herself.

Just as Long said, when she slowed down, she realized that the bridge had actually gone a small distance beyond the boundary line. Vy sighed, put the phone down, the frustration of having to admit he was right was more annoying than losing a match.

"So disgusting," she muttered to herself, although in her heart she couldn't deny that Long's accuracy in every little detail, even though it was hard to hear, was always annoyingly correct.

She pulled up the blanket, trying to get that thought out of her head to fall asleep, preparing her strength for a new, challenging training day ahead. But before she fell asleep, the image of Long's calm but sharp eyes still lingered in her mind, like an unsolved puzzle, making her sleep that night come much later than usual.