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Looking at Rashid who had a lot to say in front of him, the last string of reason in Dimitrov's mind broke, and the words rushed out like this.
"Yes, you think Gao Wen is going to use me, you think Gao Wen is going to frame me, you think everyone in the world is preventing my progress and growth."
"But if, as a coach, you're blinded by your own biases and can't even see where I'm at, then I don't know if I can continue to learn from you."
"Maybe, Roger, we should end this partnership."
Rashid was stunned.
Dimitrov was also a little surprised. He really didn't want to say it in such a way, so he shook his head slightly, showing a painful expression; but the water was hard to stop...
Then, Dimitrov closed his eyes, and instead of apologizing or giving in as usual, he gritted his teeth and spoke out in one go.
"I don't know, Roger, I don't know, but what I just said is all true."
Opening his eyes again, Dimitrov looked at Rashid, who was full of astonishment and unwillingness, and wanted to say something, but finally softened his heart.
He knew that Rashid could no longer listen to it. Similarly, Rashid also thought that he had refused to accept opinions, which also meant that their communication had reached a dead end. Obviously the two were still talking and communicating, but everything it is invalid.
All attempts are in vain.
Rashid noticed that Dimitrov hesitated to speak, as if grasping at a straw, "Grigor, you need to calm down, these words just now are not your thoughts, they are instilled in you by John Misconceptions, you need to get your sanity back and figure out what the **** is going on."
Dimitrov was a little helpless.
The words swirled on the tip of their tongues, but they swallowed them all in the end. They were fighting against a wall, and there was no point in continuing to communicate. Then Dimitrov shook his head lightly, "Roger, Gawain is still waiting for me. "
Then, Dimitrov took a step forward, leaving Rashid standing alone, messed up in the wind.
Amidst the hunting wind, one could hear Rashid's furious words, "You will regret it", and a series of unsavory foul language mixed in, one can picture Rashid's ferociousness in one's mind without even seeing it with one's own eyes. His face and waving arms, his voice is like a sharp blade, even without physical contact, it can still hurt people.
Dimitrov's footsteps were in a hurry, and he fled in some embarrassment, just wanting to get away as soon as possible.
One turn and Dimitrov entered the passage between the two training grounds.
The space is narrow and clear at a glance. At a glance, Dimitrov can see an embarrassed figure facing the court with his back to the aisle for punishment, lowering his head slightly to cover his face, trying to hide his whereabouts.
Dimitrov really didn't have the heart to worry about others hearing their conversation and spreading it. His only thought now was to quickly enter the training ground, and then temporarily put those troubles behind him, and just glanced at that A figure, missed without a pause.
But, a little familiar?
Dimitrov's footsteps had already passed by, but he went back and forth, and then stepped back again, bending down to look at the side face.
"...Emily?"
Pulan grinned angrily, turned around, and showed Dimitrov an awkward smile, fingered the barbed wire fence on the training ground, and pulled it lightly twice, "The greening of Roland-Garros still needs to be strengthened. "
Surprisingly, there is no greenery or shade around the training ground, and there is no way to hide her whereabouts. She is like an ostrich, burying her head in the sand, but completely ignoring her exposed body.
Pullan grinned, "Sorry."
Dimitrov waved his hands again and again, with a bitter smile, "Emily...can you not tell Gawain?"
At this time, Dimitrov returned to his usual gentle appearance, but the corners of his eyes and shoulders revealed a sense of fatigue, not anger, sadness, or loss, but pure fatigue, as if he had just finished a five-hour game. In a marathon, I don't even have the energy to vent my emotions.
Pooran knew that emotion, a kind of ennui, but also a kind of discouragement.
Pu Lan nodded, "Don't worry, your secret is safe with me. If you don't want to say it, you can trust my ability to keep it secret."
As he said that, Pu Lan also made a movement of zipping his mouth up.
"But…"
The end of the words was slightly lengthened, and Pulan hesitated. She and Dimitrov were not that familiar. After all, the number of times the two met was limited, and the position at this moment seemed awkward. She was not even sure whether she should give Dimitrov disagreed, but she said it anyway.
"Gregor, this is just my personal opinion. I think maybe you should talk to Gawain. I think Gawain won't mind, but will give you some advice."
After all, she still spoke her inner thoughts, but Pulan was a little worried, and she was not sure how Dimitrov would react, so she quickly added another sentence.
"By the way, my coming to Roland Garros was also a surprise. Gawain didn't know."
Dimitrov was chewing on Pulan's words carefully, and then his attention was drawn back. Looking at Pulan with a somewhat restrained and shy expression, a smile crept up the corner of his mouth, not helpless or bitter, but a kind of spontaneity Sincerely cheerful, he also made a small joke.
"Don't worry, your secret is safe with me."
"Or, what surprise event did you arrange? In fact, I can cooperate with you. For example, let's scare Gao Wen. I think that's a good idea."
Seeing Dimitrov who was eager to try, Poulan blinked, "Grigor, are you sure? Are you sure it didn't turn out that we were frightened?"
"Uh..." Dimitrov thought about it seriously, "I think it's very possible."
"Haha." Pulan couldn't help laughing happily.
Not far away, a few fans turned their heads and noticed the movement here—
Pulan immediately became vigilant, and immediately raised his voice, "Grigor, UU Reading www.uukanshu.com Thank you for signing for me."
Those gazes found explanations before they had time to doubt, and Dimitrov's female fans were also a powerful force on the tour.
including themselves.
In twos and threes, the fans who were watching Gao Wen's training rushed over and greeted Dimitrov.
Pullan naturally opened the distance, blocked by the crowd, smiled at Dimitrov through the turbulence, gave a thumbs up, and said silently with his mouth, "Come on, train!"
Dimitrov's mood also brightened a little, and he walked towards the training ground surrounded by fans.
Pu Lan let out a long breath, and walked towards the barbed wire fence again, and found a space in the corner, watching Gao Wen, who was sweating on the court, concentrating on the court, bathed in the golden sunlight, like Apollo.
(end of this chapter)