Yichen found a seat for himself and Zixuan in the spectator stands.

"Sis, do you want a drink?"

"What about you, Yichen?"

"Yeah, since we’ll be watching for dozens of minutes, we might as well get something. It’s pretty hot out."

"Then I’ll have one too. Just get the same as yours."

Yichen browsed drinks at the campus convenience store. From what he knew of Zixuan, she wasn’t interested in the trendy beverages sold there. He remembered how much she loved black tea—especially during their Europe trip. Back then, Zixuan sat elegantly, holding a delicate white porcelain teacup. She sipped gently, enthusiastically explaining British black tea to him. "Unlike Chinese black tea, British blends aren’t categorized by region. They mix different leaves for unique flavors. Like this Earl Grey—it’s a blend of Chinese tea, Darjeeling, and Ceylon." She’d seemed like a British aristocrat’s daughter, her grace clearly honed over years.

Standing before the store’s fridge, Yichen muttered, "Where am I supposed to find high-class tea here?" He settled on two bottles of iced black tea. But when he reached for his wallet, he realized he only had three and a half yuan—just enough for one bottle with fifty cents change. He returned to the court with a single bottle.

As Yichen approached, he spotted Zhenghong chatting animatedly with Zixuan. Zhenghong waved his arms wildly, grinning. Zixuan tilted her head up, covering her mouth lightly as her body trembled with soft laughter. A wave of displeasure hit Yichen. *(Sis is laughing so happily at Zhenghong… Wait, am I jealous?)* He shook his head hard and walked over.

"What were you two talking about?"

"Ahaha, nothing! Just chatting with your sister," Zhenghong said, scratching his head and laughing loudly—a comical sight. Yichen knew Zhenghong loved hitting on girls and acting cool; this goofy side was new. Yichen glared. "Hey, don’t you dare make a move on my sister."

"Relax! I wouldn’t risk hitting on the chairman’s daughter. Gotta go—the game’s starting. Warm up before you play!" Zhenghong jogged off. Yichen sat down, handing Zixuan the drink. "Here, iced black tea."

She took it. "Only one bottle?"

"Haha, didn’t bring enough cash. You drink it. What were you talking about earlier?"

"He told me about your school life. Said you played a basketball game once—even as a newbie, your shooting accuracy stunned everyone."

Hearing this, Yichen’s mood lifted instantly. "Oh, that? Nothing special. I just feel good when I shoot."

"I thought you only studied all day."

"What? I exercise too!"

Zixuan unscrewed the cap, took a sip, and handed it to him. Yichen stared at the bottle’s mouth—where her lips had just been—and his heart skipped a beat. They shared cups at home without a thought, but outside, it felt different.

"Yichen, aren’t you drinking?"

"Ah, yeah." He grabbed it and drank quickly.

By now, both teams were on court for the standard 45-minute, 5-on-5 game. Yichen didn’t recognize Chengkong Academy’s players, but Skyvoid Academy’s lineup had three second-years—including Zhenghong—and two first-year club members. Seniors like Rong Tianyu sat out, clearly using this to train juniors.

The game began with Skyvoid Academy taking the ball. Zhenghong charged forward, faked past one defender, spun 360 degrees to evade another, dribbled through a third’s legs, then dashed to the three-point line and shot—swish! Cheers erupted; his surprise move caught opponents off guard. But Chengkong’s older, stronger players soon dominated. Their small forward drove hard, sinking a fadeaway jumper over Skyvoid’s guard. The crowd roared, split between teams. Skyvoid stayed pressured but kept the score close. At the 20-minute break, it was 40-60 to Chengkong.

Rong Tianyu signaled Yichen to prepare. "Sis, I’m warming up."

"Mm, do your best."

After Yichen left, Zixuan sat quietly. The air around her stilled like frozen ice—only thawing when he was near. Yet her breathtaking beauty radiated undeniable allure.

"Hey, gorgeous—is that your boyfriend? Why’d he leave you alone?" A slick voice cut in. Zixuan looked up: two fashionably dressed boys, not from Skyvoid Academy, approached.

"May I help you?" she asked politely, smiling.

"Haha, we couldn’t bear seeing a beauty lonely!" The blond guy sat beside her; the tall, thin one grinned behind her. Zixuan’s smile vanished—she recognized troublemakers.

"Come on, smile! It’s boring here. Let’s go out—we’ll treat you," the blond said, draping his arm over her shoulder.

The moment his hand landed, Zixuan’s lips parted. A cold, sharp voice cut through: "Get lost."

If Yichen had heard it, he’d be stunned. The poised, elegant Zixuan never spoke like this. Her crimson eyes glowed with ominous red light. The blond guy yanked his hand back, face pale, pupils wide, teeth chattering.

"Ah Yi?" the tall boy asked, confused.

"Y-yes!" The blond scrambled up and fled. "Ah Yi!" His friend chased after him, forgetting Zixuan entirely. Her eyes returned to normal. Unfazed, she kept watching the game.

Yichen changed into Skyvoid Academy’s uniform, warmed up, and ran onto the court, high-fiving the players he replaced. Stepping onto the hardwood, he felt every gaze—opponents and teammates alike. Pressure crushed him; he only wanted Zixuan’s attention. He patted his cheeks, took deep breaths. *Sis is watching. I have to shine.*

At the whistle, Yichen sprinted to the opponent’s three-point line per Rong Tianyu’s tactic. His basketball skills were average, but his three-pointers were lethal. All he needed was an open spot, a pass, and a shot. The score was 60-80—Skyvoid trailing by 20.

His guard launched a long pass. Yichen caught it, turned, and shot—three points. The opponents rushed back on offense. Zhenghong grabbed a rebound and fired the ball to Yichen without hesitation. Catch, shoot—another three-pointer. He sank several in a row. The defender guarding him froze, then shook his head. *Just luck.*

66-80. 74-84. 83-86.

"Hmph, Bowen, witness our sharpshooter," Rong Tianyu boasted to Chengkong Academy’s president, Huang Bowen.

Huang Bowen stared at Yichen, incredulous. "Impossible. 70% three-point accuracy? That’s beyond NBA levels."

"Hmph, facts are facts." Rong Tianyu smiled, but inwardly reeled. *Last time it was only 50%!*

Huang Bowen suddenly grinned. "Don’t celebrate early. He’s still a newbie. My players have found his weakness."