"[Name], the daughter of Sherry Parker, decided to leave Detroit for good after her father died in a tragic car accident. Seeking a fresh start, she and her mother moved to Beijing, China.
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As Mr. Han and I entered the arena, the sight of the crowd sent a surge of excitement and nerves through me. The benches were filled with spectators, eagerly anticipating the tournament. I followed Mr. Han, but before we could fully prepare, a woman approached us and spoke to Mr. Han in Chinese.
"Xiao [Name], you're up," Mr. Han said, his voice reassuring but tinged with concern. My heart pounded in my chest, and my hands trembled.
Mr. Han placed a comforting hand on my shoulder and said, "You're going to be okay, focus." I took a deep breath, trying to steady myself.
Looking around, I noticed that the matches were already underway. Cheng caught my attention as he fought another competitor on the mat.
Surprisingly, he wasn't wearing his usual black karate uniform. Instead, he and his friends were dressed in red uniforms, standing on the sidelines and watching intently.
Cheng's opponent took a powerful kick from him, falling backward onto the mat. The referee declared Cheng the winner, and he turned to face us, a smug smirk on his face. He exchanged high fives with his friends before returning to his place next to Master Li.
Mr. Han guided me forward, and I looked at him, feeling a mix of confusion and anxiety. "What's that?" I asked, gesturing toward the book he was holding.
Mr. Han glanced at the book and replied casually, "The rulebook."
My eyes widened, and panic set in. "You don't know the rules?" I exclaimed, my voice filled with worry. Mr. Han looked at me with a hint of amusement.
"Of course, I know the rules. It's simple. You hit him and don't let him hit you," he explained nonchalantly, still focused on the book.
I felt a surge of frustration, wanting to punch Mr. Han in the face, but I quickly reminded myself that he was my coach. "You know what, Mr. Han? They're going to kill me," I said dramatically, but he continued reading, unfazed.
We came to a halt as cameramen surrounded the mat, and the referee stood by, holding two flags. "Ah, two points to win," Mr. Han pointed out, indicating the page in the book.
"Win it twice," he added, finally looking up at me. "Go. Focus," Mr. Han said, giving me a push toward the center of the mat.
I stood there, taking in the energy of the crowd. I took my fighting stance, my mind focused on the techniques I had practiced.
My opponent charged at me, throwing punches, but I swiftly ducked, grabbing his arm and delivering a punch to his chest. He stumbled backward, and a mixture of cheers and laughter filled the arena.
