Chapter 423: Team Event Champion

Chapter 423: Team Competition Champions

3-1 lead, match point secured!

Xiao Yunlin clenched his fist with restrained intensity; Feng Xuemei had delivered far more surprises than expected.

Xiao Yunlin now felt a pang of regret—regret that he hadn’t let Meng Fan guide the women’s team’s techniques and tactics sooner, and regret that he hadn’t let Feng Xuemei compete in more international tournaments before the Olympics. If she had faced more high-stakes matches earlier, honing the fruits of Meng Fan’s guidance, perhaps her individual competition would have turned out differently.

“Brilliantly played!”

When Feng Xuemei came off the mat, Xiao Yunlin gave her a thumbs-up and patted her on the shoulder. “Rest well! Your Olympic journey is over—look forward to your matches after the Games!”

Feng Xuemei nodded, let out a quiet breath, then walked to the side. She bowed slightly to Meng Fan in gratitude. Seeing him open his arms, she smiled and jogged over to embrace him.

Meng Fan grinned. “You played really well! Tonight, you can ask the chef to add an extra chicken leg to your meal!”

Feng Xuemei nodded with a wry smile. “Then don’t forget to treat me to hotpot when we get back.”

Meng Fan nodded. “Absolutely!”

After Feng Xuemei’s victory, the Chinese judo team didn’t relax. The pressure on the next competitor was just as heavy.

The fifth match: the women’s 70 kg bout.

In the previous round against France, aside from the French female judoka being heavily affected by the first three matches—especially Meng Fan’s effortless ippon victory over Teddy Riner and Feng Xuemei’s clever ippon win—the Chinese judoka had also performed impressively, with a bit of luck securing her win.

But against Japan in this match, the odds were very low. Japan had sent another champion-level athlete.

She fought well, but the Japanese opponent was simply too strong, and with the home advantage, she was ultimately defeated by ippon.

Thus, the team score became 3-2, but China didn’t hold much advantage. The number of ippons was tied between the two teams; China only led by one “waza-ari” and one “yuko” technical point.

In a judo match, this lead was slim. If Yu Song were defeated by ippon, even if the score tied, China would lose—unless the match ended in a draw or Yu Song only lost by a small margin.

In other words, both teams were now on equal footing; the outcome depended on winning this match.

Of course, if one wanted to nitpick, Yu Song only needed to avoid being ippon’d to secure victory, given the waza-ari advantage. If the opponent scored two waza-ari, that would count as an ippon win.

But Yu Song clearly wasn’t thinking about technical points. Her goal was simple: win!

She was stronger than her opponent and had rested a round—there was no reason not to take this match.

The Japanese judoka had a specific strategy against her, and Yu Song had lost to her before, truly being countered. But was she still the same person as before?

Yu Song saw Meng Fan make a fist and spin it in a circle, then smiled and nodded as she stepped onto the mat.

Was Feng Xuemei the only one who had improved through Meng Fan’s technical and tactical guidance?

Clearly not!

Yu Song had also benefited greatly.

Moreover, Meng Fan had given her the most precise tactical plan.

The match began.

Just over a minute in, Yu Song suddenly shifted from her defensive style to an aggressive attack. She pulled her opponent off balance with a sleeve grip, followed by a double-handed sweep combined with an inner thigh throw, then transitioned into a sacrifice throw variation—a rolling inner wrap—dragging her opponent to the ground and securing victory with an upper four-quarter hold!

“We won!”

All the Chinese spectators in the stands stood up, their faces alight with excitement.

“We lost!”

The Japanese audience collectively covered their faces. Many true judo enthusiasts in Japan wept openly, covering their faces in grief. Though they had sensed something ominous when China entered the finals, the final moment of defeat was still hard to bear.

At their home Olympics, in the event they were most favored to win—an event specially added for the host nation—they had handed the gold to others. No one could easily accept that.

Not only the live audience, but Japanese viewers watching the broadcast were in tears; many even fainted. This showed how deeply judo was valued in Japan, the land of judo.

Even though Japan topped the judo medal table with five golds, they couldn’t find joy. Looking down, China was second with four golds, and in their eyes, those four golds carried more weight than Japan’s five.

The team gold’s value went without saying; the men’s and women’s heaviest weight classes also held more prestige simply because they were the “heaviest.” In other words, in open-weight matches, China was unbeatable! But despite the pain, when awarding the gold medals to the Chinese team, the applause was still given. And when some Japanese fans couldn’t bear the scene and left early, they still picked up their trash.

“Stand up!”

Once again, the Chinese national flag rose and the national anthem played in the Nippon Budokan, accompanied by the chorus of Chinese spectators.

This time, the live audience watched the twelve athletes on the podium, crying and singing through their tears, and they joined in, weeping as they sang.

Similar scenes unfolded in front of televisions.

In the team event, every member received a medal. A team had twelve members, so the Chinese team—twelve people—all got gold medals (though only one counted in the medal tally). Even substitutes who hadn’t competed in a single Olympic match, like Meng Fan’s substitute, received medals—he had contributed in the continental qualifiers, fighting two matches.

After the award ceremony, as they stepped off the podium, the other eleven athletes seemed to have agreed beforehand. Laughing, they took off their gold medals and hung them all around Meng Fan’s neck, then hoisted him into the air. Their labored breaths mixed with the clinking of twelve gold medals colliding—a beautiful sound.

Meng Fan, lifted high, couldn’t help but grin. This feeling was wonderful. His expression of pure enjoyment, paired with his handsome face and smile, was especially captivating.

Click, click, click.

Media photographers captured this beautiful moment.

When Meng Fan was set down, he ran toward Xiao Yunlin, the twelve gold medals clinking against his chest. He took them off and hung them all around Xiao Yunlin’s neck, then shouted to the team, laughing: “Toss him!”

Xiao Yunlin, thrown into the air, laughed until he cried—moved, grateful, and perhaps a little bruised by the swinging medals. It was exhilarating, comforting.

When he came down, Xiao Yunlin wiped his tears and bowed to the athletes, his voice choked with emotion as he thanked them for the surprises, honors, and touching moments they had brought.

By the time he faced interviews, head coach Xiao Yunlin had calmed down. But the reporter, mischievously, suddenly remarked that this championship was both unexpected and hard-won, instantly drawing tears from Old Xiao again.

During athlete interviews, Meng Fan, Yu Song, Cheng Xunzhao, and Feng Xuemei were naturally the focus. Every athlete, including the coach, mentioned Meng Fan. The “Meng-style tactics” were no secret to be hidden, and the question of how an athlete like Meng Fan had taken on a somewhat “overstepping” coaching role was brushed aside. All expressed gratitude for the technical and tactical improvements Meng Fan had brought to the team.

And this gratitude was truly deserved.

Not only did they think so, but the Japanese team, who had wanted to invite Meng Fan for exchange and guidance from the very beginning, agreed.

Meng Fan’s role in this team competition went far beyond just winning his match with a perfect score. He stabilized morale, boosted spirit, and more importantly, provided maximum technical support and tactical guidance to the entire team.

“With a Meng Fan-kun like this, and China’s vast population, if they truly focus on nurturing new talent, I believe it won’t be long before China produces a batch of world-class athletes—not just in heavyweights, but also threatening our dominance in lighter weight classes!”

“Ono-san, don’t mention the word ‘dominance’ anymore!”

The executives of the Japan Judo Association sighed deeply on the sidelines, for the first time sharing the typical South Korean sentiment: if only Meng Fan were Japanese!

As for South Korea, they had left before the award ceremony after watching the match. As they left, hearing the Chinese national anthem, they all thought the same: those idiots in the Japan Judo Association didn’t even file a complaint, letting the ceremony proceed smoothly!

Finally, the interview came to Meng Fan. He smiled shyly and humbly: “Since everyone is thanking Meng Fan, I won’t thank him. I want to thank Coach Xiao Yunlin and the leaders of the Wrestling, Judo, and Weightlifting Center for trusting me and inviting me to join the national team—and all three national teams at once. Without that trust, I wouldn’t be on the Olympic stage; I’d probably be lying at home watching the matches. Maybe lying at home would be comfortable, but it wouldn’t have brought the excitement and richness of this journey.”

“I also want to thank my teammates for their trust and hard work. Without them, I couldn’t have won this team championship alone. Compared to the honor of the title, what’s more precious to me is the friendship I’ve gained with them. Our training together wasn’t long, but in that short time, they enriched my inner world. To have such a champion team as my teammates and friends is my honor and pride.”

“Finally, I must thank my family, friends, and my girlfriend Wu Tong for their support. Well, since I’ve thanked everyone, I might as well thank myself—for being so hardworking. I will continue to work hard, hoping that in the next post-match interview, I can still give a speech. See you on the wrestling mat in two days!”

(The chapter ends)