Chapter 45 The Sharapova That Can Be Reached by Phone

On the bus from the stadium to the airport, Chen Hero received a call from Sharapova.

"Hello, Hero, this is Sharapova." Sharapova introduced herself. She had originally planned to have a good talk with Chen Hero about how to deal with the reporters' questions, but Chen Hero's first sentence nearly drove her mad...

"Huh? Why is it you?" He sounded surprised and indifferent, as if he didn't want her to call.

She hung up the phone in anger.

She found that she and this Chen Hero seemed to be naturally incompatible. When facing him, she would easily lose her composure. If this were on the tennis court, she would have died countless times...

That damn bastard! Would it kill you to be a little nicer?

Sharapova had thought he would say something like, "Ah, hello," as an opening line, but instead he sounded surprised and ice-cold: "Why is it you?" as if pouring a bucket of cold water over her head. It made her feel as if she was unwelcome.

If I couldn't find anyone else to discuss this with, I wouldn't have called you.

Chen Hero looked at the phone that had suddenly been hung up, feeling rather baffled. He thought it was only natural to be surprised when he answered a call from an unfamiliar number and found it was Sharapova. Wasn't that a normal reaction?

He didn't consider that girls were sensitive. What he thought was a normal reaction might be interpreted completely differently by her.

"Is that your rumored girlfriend calling, Hero!" Denisov, sitting next to him, teased.

"Go to hell!" Chen Hero gave him the middle finger, not answering the question directly. Because Denisov was half right—it was indeed Sharapova calling, but she certainly wasn't a rumored girlfriend.

Just then, the phone rang again. It was the same unfamiliar number.

He answered it. "Hey, are you crazy?"

Sharapova was so angry she wanted to vomit blood. Her hand trembled, and she almost hung up again.

But luckily, after the first time, she was somewhat prepared and managed to keep her composure.

"Chen Hero! I'm calling to discuss a very serious issue! Can you be a little nicer? Why are you always like this? Do you talk to everyone like this?" Sharapova tried to suppress her anger and spoke to Chen Hero as politely as possible.

"You were the one who called, introduced yourself, and then hung up," Chen Hero said, feeling baffled. "Did you call just to hang up on me? Is it fun?"

Chen Hero was quick-witted.

"You..." Sharapova realized it was her fault. She had hung up the phone too naturally, too quickly, with the speed of lightning...

"Alright, what's the matter?" Chen Hero on the other end of the phone seemed not to care anymore, making Sharapova feel like she was being petty for being so conflicted.

"Are you in a match?" Sharapova didn't get straight to the point, but asked a question first.

Chen Hero immediately thought this girl Sharapova must have a problem: "If I was still in a match, how could I be answering your call, lady..."

"Ah, ah! Oh, oh!" Sharapova's face turned red. She also felt embarrassed. "I mean, are you free right now?"

"I'm on my way from the stadium to the airport. What's the matter?"

"Have you run into reporters?" Sharapova asked.

Chen Hero was silent for a moment.

"Have you run into them too?" Sharapova's voice came again.

"Yeah," Chen Hero replied.

At this point, he noticed that the people on either side of him, behind him, and in front of him were all pricking up their ears, eavesdropping on his phone call. He bared his teeth at his gossipy teammates, then turned to face the window, shielding his mouth with his hand.

"The reporters... uh, they, they asked you those questions?" Sharapova asked hesitantly.

Chen Hero knew what she was referring to and didn't want his teammates to know, so he simply answered vaguely: "Yeah."

"How did you answer?" Sharapova's voice suddenly increased, very curious about Chen Hero's answer. She looked like a little girl waiting for her father to tell her what happened next in a story. But Sharapova herself was completely unaware.

"I said... it has nothing to do with you."

"I said... it has nothing to do with you."

Even though she knew that was the truth, Sharapova felt a pang in her heart for no reason, feeling a bit disappointed.

"...But they obviously didn't believe it," Chen Hero continued.

Of course, they wouldn't believe it. I wouldn't believe there was nothing between us... So many things have happened between us. Can that really be considered "nothing"?

"This is quite troublesome..." Chen Hero lowered his voice, trying to avoid his overly gossipy teammates. He hadn't realized before that even star players like Arshavin, who usually acted like a big brother, were so gossipy!

Sharapova nodded to show her agreement, then realized that she was on the phone. Chen Hero on the other end of the phone couldn't see if she was nodding or agreeing. So, she added an "Mm."

"Have you run into those reporters too?" Chen Hero asked, after explaining his situation. He also took the opportunity to ask about her situation. Now, the two of them were like "fellow sufferers" – a secret between them, that no one else knew, so they had to discuss the solution together.

"Yeah... I was planning to go out and have some fun, but I was blocked at the entrance of the hotel and had to come back..."

Sharapova's mood dropped as soon as she mentioned this. She came here to relax and have fun, but what was the point of being stuck in the hotel all day?

"What did you say?" Chen Hero also wanted to hear how Sharapova would answer the same questions.

"I didn't say anything. I just ran back to my room. The reporters were blocked outside the gate and couldn't get in."

Hearing that Sharapova hadn't said anything, Chen Hero felt a little disappointed... But he didn't know what he was disappointed about.

The two of them began chatting like this, as if they had forgotten why they had called each other in the first place.

It wasn't until the bus was about to arrive at the airport that they realized...

"Oh no. I'm at the airport..." Chen Hero exclaimed.

They couldn't continue chatting at the airport. At least the environment wasn't suitable. So, they had to make it quick.

"What should I do if reporters ask again?" Sharapova asked.

"Just say... no comment!" Chen Hero had originally wanted to teach Sharapova to say "I have nothing to do with him," but when the words reached his mouth, he changed it to "no comment." What was the reason? Perhaps he felt that he and Sharapova couldn't be considered as having "nothing to do with each other" right now?

"Is that okay?" Sharapova asked.

Chen Hero didn't know if it was okay, but what else could she say? Was she supposed to tell the reporters the whole story from beginning to end and tell them, "We're in this strange relationship right now"?

Hearing Chen Hero's silence, Sharapova knew that this was the only thing to say, so she bid Chen Hero farewell and hung up the phone.

When Chen Hero put away his phone and turned around, he saw a group of people looking at him with a gossipy expression, like paparazzi.

This startled him: "What are you doing?"

"Hehe, you still say you have nothing to do with each other? Hero? You can fool those idiot reporters, but you can't fool us!" Anyukov said with a cheap laugh.

"They're in love, Alexander. You have to allow the couple to have some time to chat on the phone," Captain Denisov said next to him, educating Anyukov with a serious face.

"I'm hopeless! I'm hopeless about a world where Hero can chat all the way with Sharapova!" Kerzhakov held his head in his hands and roared to the sky.

Arshavin leaned on the back of the chair in front of him and patted Chen Hero on the shoulder: "Autographs, don't forget my autographs, Hero."

"Damn you guys..." Chen Hero was speechless in the face of a group of mischievous friends.

Just then, his phone received a text message from the same number. It seemed that this number was Sharapova's.

"I don't think 'no comment' can solve the problem..."

Chen Hero first saved the number in his phone, but when he was naming it, he didn't directly enter "Sharapova", but "Woman".

"Another text message! Damn it!"

"The phone call is over, and now there's texting... I really envy you, Hero! What exactly does Sharapova see in you?"

"This is blatant boasting!"

Amidst the teasing of his teammates, Chen Hero lowered his head and texted Sharapova back: "What do you think we should do?"

"I... I don't know..."

"Then what do you think we are?"

After this text message was sent, there was no reply for a long time.

Chen Hero was about to get off the bus. He put his phone in his pocket and suddenly got up to get off.

He had completely forgotten that he was sitting on the inside by the window, and that above his head was not the roof of the bus, but... the luggage rack.

And so...

"Ouch!"

Chen Hero covered his head and sat down again.

The others laughed gleefully at his misfortune.

"Beauty is good, but don't let happiness cloud your mind..." Erik Hagen patted Chen Hero on the shoulder with a smile.

Chen Hero covered his head and rolled his eyes at them—he really couldn't talk to these people!

Sharapova stared at the phone screen in a daze.

The screen gradually darkened, and eventually nothing could be seen—the phone entered standby mode.

But she remembered the contents on it clearly.

"Then what do you think we are?"

Yes, what are we?

Friends?

Sharapova shook her head vigorously. If they were friends, wouldn't she be friends with all those people she hated?

Enemies?

Are there enemies who can chat on the phone for more than half an hour?

Work partners?

That seemed more reliable, but how could she explain the fact that she came out of Chen Hero's apartment before work?

This was the biggest flaw, and the biggest secret in their relationship...

She couldn't possibly say that she was drunk and Chen Hero took her to his place, right?

What kind of person would that make her?

I'm not the kind of public bus that you can just get on with money!

After thinking for a long time, Sharapova couldn't figure out what her relationship with Chen Hero was, so she sent a question back: "What do you think?"

There was no reply for a long time either.

Sharapova frowned and waited for a while, then simply called him directly. She didn't know where this impulse came from, but she just dialed.

But the message that came from the other end of the phone was like a bucket of cold water being poured over her.

"...I'm sorry, the number you dialed is currently switched off..."