Chapter 83: The Grand Finals (Part Three)

As soon as they left the court, Zhu Bo, Screw, and 95 from Qingshui No.1 High School slumped in the locker room, gasping for breath, sweat dripping in large beads from their hair, their jerseys completely soaked through. They had never imagined that only halfway through the game, they would already be so exhausted, feeling as if their whole bodies might give out at any moment.

The players from Yangcheng High School had been engaging them in physical confrontation every single second. This kind of direct contact was, in many ways, more draining than handling the ball itself. Often, those who played the most inconspicuous positions on the court—the power forward or the center—ended a game having sweated more than the point guards or shooting guards. Especially for the power forward, who performed the team's most grueling tasks yet never had a moment to shine.

In the second quarter, the men from Yangcheng High School targeted these three, pressing them relentlessly. Still, the grueling training Zhu Bo and the others had undergone wasn't for nothing—they knew that their opponents were likely suffering even more. Indeed, as they expected, over in Yangcheng High’s locker room, Su Yuxiang, Wu Fan, and Cai Kun were all nearly spent. Their bodies were on the verge of collapse, shocked to find that Qingshui’s three seemingly unremarkable players had stamina and strength to match their own. If it weren’t for the conviction in their hearts to win the championship, they would have needed to rest before Qingshui’s players did.

Coach Xiao Ran of Yangcheng High smiled at his three players, saying, “You did great in the second quarter. The tactics were executed flawlessly. Now rest well. Let’s see who Qingshui No.1 can field in the third quarter!”

Indeed, Coach Gorilla felt a deep sense of helplessness. Compared to Qingshui No.1, Yangcheng High was simply too well-rounded, with three solid choices for every position. While Lin Nan and Zhao Zhongshi from Qingshui had more offensive firepower than their counterparts, only 95 could meet the standard for the crucial center position. Now, with 95 and Screw—both the team’s tallest—unable to play, who could fill the center spot?

Coach Gorilla painfully realized the gulf in depth between the two teams; Qingshui’s bench was far too thin. They couldn’t even run a three-point strategy, since Yangcheng’s smaller, faster players abounded. As Coach Gorilla agonized over his choices for the third quarter, someone who rarely spoke broke the silence.

“Coach, let me play center,” Zhao Zhongshi said calmly. His tone, tinged with an unfamiliar hint of request, nonetheless brooked no argument.

Everyone in the locker room, including Lin Nan, turned to look at him. At that moment, Coach Gorilla realized that aside from 95 and Screw, Zhao Zhongshi was actually the next tallest on the team.

Well, desperate times call for desperate measures.

Qingshui No.1 still led by twelve points. If they could hang on through the third quarter—just until 95, Screw, and Zhu Bo caught their breath—they could fight to the end in the fourth.

The fourth quarter began.

Qingshui No.1’s lineup: Lin Nan, Zhao Zhongshi, Li Qing, Watermelon, and Wang Jinsong.

Yangcheng High’s lineup: Wang Shiying, Yang Wendong, and three substitutes slightly weaker than the starters.

Off the court, Coach Xiao Ran of Yangcheng High looked at Qingshui’s new lineup and couldn’t help but laugh aloud.

An average height of 180 centimeters? Could that even be called a basketball team in this league? Yes, it was just a high school tournament, but this was the finals!

On the court, however, Yangcheng High’s players did not repeat their coach’s mistake of underestimating their opponents; none wished to be the next person Lin Nan would fake out and embarrass.

Yangcheng High had possession, while Qingshui set up a zone defense.

As Wang Shiying dribbled past midcourt, he paused in surprise.

Zhao Zhongshi was playing center? But he quickly recovered, realizing Zhao Zhongshi was now the tallest on the floor for Qingshui.

Yang Wendong immediately headed inside, filled with thoughts of avenging his earlier humiliation.

In the first half, Zhao Zhongshi had scored several miraculous hook shots right over him. And now, Zhao was playing center! If not now, when would he get his revenge?

But when Wang Shiying missed a long shot and Yang Wendong boxed out with Zhao Zhongshi under the basket, something unexpected happened. Yang leaned in, but Zhao didn’t budge an inch.

“So solid?” Yang was secretly shocked.

When the ball came down, Zhao had already taken position, boxing Yang completely out of the rebounding zone and grabbing the board.

“My god! Zhao Zhongshi, the hook-shot wizard from Qingshui, shows he’s just as experienced under the basket—snatching a rebound from Yang Wendong, who stands nearly ten centimeters taller!” commentator Yang Yi exclaimed.

On the sidelines, Coach Gorilla and the resting Zhu Bo and others all wore astonished expressions. As teammates and coach, even they hadn’t realized that Zhao Zhongshi could do more than just hook shots—he could play center as well.

From the stands on the southern side, fans chanted Zhao’s name. Among the more knowledgeable spectators, some already glimpsed victory. Even with a twelve-point lead, being short a true center could have meant losing that advantage in just a few minutes. But now that Zhao Zhongshi had stepped up to fill the role nearly perfectly, Qingshui’s rebounding was secure. On offense, Lin Nan was still a threat, and Zhao himself could score—his magical hook shots rarely needed a rebound.

Given these circumstances, the twelve-point lead felt tremendous.

Everyone was both surprised and delighted by Zhao Zhongshi, though he himself was not surprised by his ability to rebound. No one knew that when he began practicing his hook shot under the basket—tens of thousands of repetitions, watching the ball bounce off the backboard or rim—he’d learned to judge the trajectory and landing point of rebounds. Later, as he practiced long-distance and even three-point hook shots, Zhao became even more skilled at reading the ball’s bounce, all in the effort to save time collecting balls for more practice.

So whenever Zhao watched the ball arc towards the rim, he was already estimating its path. Most of the time, his predictions were spot on. That’s why he always knew he could play center; he understood that while height mattered for rebounding, positioning was even more important. It was just that Zhao wasn’t one for talking much or showing off, so no one knew of this hidden prowess.

Zhao Zhongshi passed his rebound to Lin Nan, who, energized, led a fast break. With a series of dribbles and fakes, Lin Nan easily scored two points against Yangcheng’s substitute defenders.

Qingshui now led by fourteen points!

Panic spread—Coach Xiao Ran panicked, the Yangcheng players panicked, and even their fans panicked. This was not the script they had envisioned!

Why did Qingshui No.1 always manage to surprise?

It was one thing for Lin Nan to be so offensively gifted, but now Zhao Zhongshi emerged as a capable center! Qingshui’s dynamic duo could practically play as five men!

Was this really just an ordinary county high school basketball team?

Coach Xiao Ran was at a loss, his tactical plans in shambles. On the court, Yangcheng’s players did not give up—especially Wang Shiying, who led attack after attack, hoping to chip away at the deficit. On defense, they chased Lin Nan with all they had, doubling him at every opportunity, straining every sinew to stop each Qingshui attack.

Their hunger for victory was no less than Qingshui’s.

Thus, the third quarter became just as intense as the second. Though Zhao Zhongshi secured most of the rebounds, on defense, Wang Jinsong, Li Qing, and Watermelon were repeatedly scored upon.

Though they fought desperately for every ball, the gap in ability was unbridgeable. Basketball demands skill and physicality; sheer will is not enough. Yangcheng’s strength lay in their deep bench.

By the end of the third quarter, Yangcheng had narrowed the gap to six points. The score now stood at an astonishing 88 to 82—higher than most finals in this national high school league.

A high score reflected not just a fast-paced game and high offensive efficiency, but also the exceptional excitement of the match.

As soon as the quarter ended, the players on both sides collapsed onto the benches, utterly spent. Two cleaners immediately rushed onto the court, towels in hand, to wipe away the sweat.

The atmosphere in Wukesong Arena reached its peak; tens of millions watching at home were on edge for these two high school teams.

In the VIP box, Yao Ming sighed to Lin Lang at his side, “Now this is what a basketball game should look like.”

In the adjacent box, the professional players sat in silence, even feeling a touch of shame.

Soon, the fourth quarter began—twelve final minutes, with both teams’ starting fives returning to the court.

Qingshui No.1: Lin Nan, Zhao Zhongshi, 95, Screw, and Zhu Bo.

Yangcheng High: Wang Shiying, Su Yuxiang, Yang Wendong, Wu Fan, and Cai Kun.

This was it: twelve minutes to decide the champion. Every player would give their all.

Qingshui No.1 had possession. Lin Nan took the ball and dribbled upcourt. As he approached the three-point line, Wang Shiying pressed in close. Lin Nan saw that Yangcheng was playing man-to-man, with two defenders shadowing Zhao Zhongshi, ready to double-team him.

Seeing this, Lin Nan decided not to pass. Zhu Bo, Screw, and the others rushed over to set screens. Lin Nan dribbled, searching for a chance to shoot or break through, but Yangcheng’s defense was nearly airtight, leaving him no gap to exploit.

Qingshui’s players kept running, creating openings for Lin Nan. Finally, in a triangle play with Zhao Zhongshi, Lin Nan found himself in a perfect spot. Receiving Zhao’s return pass, he leaped and shot—his touch at its peak in that instant.

Not far away, Wang Shiying, having been shaken off, sprinted desperately towards him. He knew he couldn’t stop the shot, but still leapt, hoping to at least obscure Lin Nan’s vision, to influence the shot in any way.

But basketball, in the end, is about feel. Even as Lin Nan’s view was briefly blocked, the ball sailed cleanly through the net with a crisp “swish.”

But as Lin Nan landed, his right foot came down squarely on Wang Shiying’s shoe.

His ankle twisted violently.

“Ah!” Lin Nan cried out, a stabbing pain shooting from his ankle to his brain.

Clutching his right leg in agony, Lin Nan collapsed onto the floor.

For a moment, the entire arena fell silent. In the southern stands, every spectator rose to their feet. Medical staff rushed in with a stretcher, while Lin Lang in the VIP box flung open the door and sprinted out…