Chapter Forty-Four: First Years Versus Third Years (Part Five)

As the third quarter began, more and more students gathered courtside to watch, especially those from the second year who were basketball enthusiasts. They all knew the reputation of “God Bo” and had come to witness the skills of this master for themselves.

The third years maintained possession. Zhu Bo received a pass from Watermelon at the sideline and dribbled upcourt at a measured pace. Seeing his steady figure, the first-year team braced themselves, Lin Nan included. After all, anyone dubbed “God” was no ordinary person—why else would there be only one “God Bo” in the decades-long basketball history of Qingshui No. 1 High?

The defense remained a standard zone, with No. 95 in the center, the other four men spread out on the wings.

Zhu Bo glanced at the scoreboard—a twenty-point gap—but his expression didn’t change. He didn’t immediately match up against Lin Nan, the first-year’s star player, nor did he opt for a three-pointer or a long two to break the zone. Instead, he drove straight into the paint, directly challenging No. 95’s defense.

What was he planning? Forcing a breakthrough? Targeting No. 95 first?

Lin Nan was puzzled by God Bo’s move. Zhu Bo looked about 183 centimeters tall, his muscles even more defined than Wang Jinsong’s, but he was still at a 12-centimeter disadvantage against No. 95. Lin Nan didn’t think Zhu Bo could overpower him.

Yet Zhu Bo adopted a brute-force tactic—there was only one road up Mount Hua: straight ahead. He took three steps and went for a layup, aiming to bank it in right over No. 95.

Seeing this blatant disregard, No. 95 raised his hand, ready to swat the ball away.

Suddenly, Lin Nan sensed trouble.

Sure enough, a moment later, the referee’s whistle shrilled—foul on No. 95 for hitting Zhu Bo’s hand.

Zhu Bo headed calmly to the line and sank both free throws, bringing the score to 46:28.

The third-year seniors instantly understood Zhu Bo’s intentions.

First-year possession. Lin Nan led the offense.

Faced with Zhu Bo’s defense, Lin Nan tried to drive past him, but found the man immovable—at 183 cm and at least 160 pounds, Zhu Bo was a solid wall. Lin Nan instantly resolved to start eating an extra bowl of rice every day; at 130 pounds, he was too light for the court.

Lin Nan tried spinning and feinting, but Zhu Bo didn’t bite. He stuck to Lin Nan like glue, mirroring every step. If Lin Nan shaped to shoot, Zhu Bo reached out; if Lin Nan dribbled, Zhu Bo spread his arms wide.

With no choice, Lin Nan passed out. Zhao Qiang caught it.

A third-year defender immediately pressed in, relentless, harrying Zhao Qiang and swiping at the ball.

Under pressure, Zhao Qiang’s dribbling faltered. As he tried to pass, Watermelon swooped in for a clean steal and broke out for a fast break, scoring two more. The score closed to 46:30.

After that, the third years’ offensive intent was clear: they attacked the paint, targeting No. 95 with repeated drives. Sometimes they were blocked, sometimes they drew fouls and got free throws.

Unnoticed, No. 95 racked up four personal fouls.

On the first-year side, their offense collapsed. Whoever had the ball was pressed hard, sometimes across the full court. Once, Chen Shan received the ball in the backcourt, but before he could cross half, he was stripped and the third years scored off the turnover.

Seeing this, Lin Nan reassured his teammates, then began taking the inbound passes himself, dribbling from backcourt to frontcourt. With his solid ball-handling and ambidextrous dribbling, the third years could not steal from him.

But aside from Lin Nan and the somewhat-capable Wang Jinsong, Chen Shan and Zhao Qiang crumbled under the relentless pressure, either losing the ball or being forced to pick up their dribble.

Whenever No. 95 got the ball, he was double- or triple-teamed. Burdened with four fouls, he dared not attack aggressively, for fear of being called for an offensive foul.

So all Lin Nan could do was call for screens, shake off Zhu Bo, and rely on his own ability to score. But his efficiency was nowhere near enough, especially as the third years rotated in fresh players to maintain their defensive intensity.

On the first-year bench, no one dared step up. They’d seen the seniors’ ferocity and were all too aware of their own shaky fundamentals—going in would just be embarrassing.

Even the show-off Liu Zihan was silent now.

The pace was now entirely controlled by the third years. Zhao Qiang and Chen Shan were exhausted, barely able to keep up on defense, and offering nothing on offense. Wang Jinsong’s shirt was soaked, sweat beading on his forehead—he too was near his limit. No. 95, though still energetic, was hamstrung by his four fouls—reduced to a tall mascot, afraid to contest drives.

Only Lin Nan, thanks to a year of relentless training, was unfazed by this twenty-minute high-intensity contest. He seized every scoring chance, even managing to score over God Bo in one duel.

The third years had nothing but respect for this freshman—fast, springy, and tireless; their own pride was stung.

Basketball is a competitive sport. In competition, there are no seniors or juniors—only the strong and the weak. Lin Nan’s fighting spirit and refusal to give up won their admiration.

But basketball is, above all, a team sport. Even Lin Nan’s idol, Iverson, could only notch a victory against the mighty KO duo with no strong teammates at his side.

...

The third quarter ended, the scoreboard reading 54:58—the third years had pulled ahead by four.

As the players left the court, Wang Jinsong, ever forthright, gasped, “Seniors, you’re being too much! You just rolled out the tactics on us!” He grabbed a bottle of water and gulped it down.

Zhao Qiang and Chen Shan nodded in agreement, too tired to speak as they drank.

No. 95 wasn’t tired, but didn’t know what to say.

Lin Nan replied calmly, “Tactics are part of basketball. What can we do if we’re outmatched? And I feel like God Bo hasn’t even broken a sweat—just using tactics, he flattened us.”

The others sighed at Lin Nan’s blunt truth.

After a pause, Lin Nan encouraged them, “But it’s fine. We’re freshmen, they’re seniors. Losing isn’t shameful, as long as we show our fighting spirit.”

Wang Jinsong chimed in, “Exactly! Lin Nan’s right; we can lose the game, but not our spirit!”

The first-year team’s morale flared anew.

Across the court, the third years were full of praise.

“The captain is the captain! God Bo is God Bo!”

“Tactical domination—ruthless!”

Watermelon was the happiest, having scored a layup over No. 95 at the end, relishing No. 95’s hesitant defense.

Gorilla also agreed with Zhu Bo’s approach. He’d thought Zhu Bo would just bulldoze through the paint and was worried the freshmen might get hurt. Unexpectedly, Zhu Bo used tactics—first drawing four fouls from No. 95, reducing him to a mere tall presence, then leveraging the third year’s overall strength to suppress the opposition.

Winning as a team, not relying on individual brilliance—that was how Zhu Bo had made history.

The fourth quarter began with the first years in possession: Lin Nan, No. 95, Wang Jinsong, Zhao Qiang, and Chen Shan remained on court. Though Zhao Qiang and Chen Shan were flagging, their fighting spirit was rekindled, and no substitute could strengthen the team now.

The third years, to their credit, eased off, no longer pressing as fiercely as in the third quarter. Their aim was just to win, not to crush the freshmen.

Despite Lin Nan’s relentless movement, shooting, and scoring, and his teammates’ best efforts to screen for him, the gap kept widening.

As the game neared its end, the score was 60:70—even with the third years playing a slower, more deliberate offense.

Lin Nan looked at the ten-point deficit; he knew the game was lost.

Yet he hated to lose.

After a year of training and rapid improvement, Lin Nan’s competitive drive had only grown.

Every time he set foot on the court, his heart became pure—focused only on scoring, on winning.

This was his first official 5-on-5 game, and he wanted to win more than anything.

Dribbling the ball, the referee signaled that time was almost up—this would be the final possession.

Lin Nan glanced at Li Qing, standing across from him, and suddenly had an idea.

Feigning defiance, he called out to the third years, “How about we make the last play interesting? We take turns pulling off basketball moves—whoever can’t do it loses ten points.”

The players on both sides were taken aback.

Screw was about to refuse when Li Qing shouted, “Deal! But the players have to be about the same height.”

Li Qing thought he saw through Lin Nan’s plan—surely he wanted No. 95 to dunk? Not so fast!

At Li Qing’s words, Lin Nan broke into a broad smile, while Zhu Bo, Screw, and Watermelon wore wry expressions. Li Qing had agreed, so they couldn’t back out now.

So, the match would end with a flourish.

Grinning, Lin Nan dribbled to the basket.

The crowd watched as Lin Nan seemed to leap from the ground, soaring in a graceful arc, and with a resounding “bang,” he slammed the ball through the hoop.

He landed solidly, leaving the crowd in stunned silence.

Lin Nan turned to Li Qing with a smile, “I’m 178 centimeters—your turn.”

Li Qing was dumbfounded. Who could explain how Lin Nan could dunk? How could he dunk at that height? How was this possible?

...

Wang Jinsong shouted, “God Nan! God Nan!”

The others soon joined in, chanting, “God Nan! God Nan! God Nan!”

First it was the five on the court, then a chorus from the first-year section, and finally the entire audience outside. The chant echoed across the basketball court.

That day, everyone remembered the handsome boy who played such dazzling basketball. His name: God Nan! (a title to rival God Bo).

By the scoreboard, the senior in charge of flipping the numbers glanced awkwardly at Zhu Bo.

Zhu Bo nodded calmly.

The score changed to 60:60.

Lin Nan’s first official game ended in a draw.

The first-year freshmen gathered excitedly, and Wang Jinsong exchanged a look with the others before hoisting Lin Nan into the air.

Gorilla walked over to Zhu Bo and marveled, “He really doesn’t know how to give up!”

Zhu Bo nodded, and Gorilla continued, “This year’s national high school basketball tournament might be even bigger than you think. The school just asked me to coach the team. Next Sunday we play Qingshui No. 3 High, and I hear the whole thing will be broadcast live on Qingshui TV.”

Zhu Bo’s face lit up with excitement—No. 3 High had always been their old rival.

Watching Lin Nan, beaming as he soared above the crowd, Zhu Bo felt they could set their sights even higher this year.