Lao Han stood with hands lazily tucked in pockets, a playful smile on her face. A tall, lanky guy trailed distractedly beside her, half-hearted on defense. Huang Li, though, kept his eyes locked on me—probably figured this was just messing around with three girls, and guarding the only guy was all that mattered.

I glanced around. Lao Han stood way too deep, no move to come out, just drifting slowly toward the perimeter. The lanky guy followed just as lazily. She was probably going easy on me, letting me warm up first…

But you’re overestimating me! Damn it, I’m no Michael Jordan. And these guys? All school-team level. How the hell was I supposed to drive in alone?

I looked at Brother Long. He clearly wanted the ball, cutting around constantly. The cross-dresser, though, stayed dead serious, glued to his back. Brother Long, fuzzy on rules, frowned and snapped, “You pervert! Why you following me?”

The cross-dresser froze, flustered. His face flushed crimson. He ducked his head fast.

I dribbled, watching. Seizing the opening, Brother Long darted beyond the three-point line. “Pass it, Lao Lu!!” he yelled.

The lanky guy chuckled. “You gonna inbound already, man?”

Who to pass to… I sighed inwardly. Lao Chu stared fixedly at the hoop, hands locked in perfect shooting form. She mimed two shots, nodded, then turned to me.

No one guarded Lao Chu. She just stood there, utterly unnoticed.

I passed to her. *Let’s just play loose for now. Lao Han’ll take over later.*

The second the ball left my hands, Lao Han instinctively stepped forward—silent, swift—slipping into the paint. Perfect spot. One pass from Lao Chu, and she’d lay it in clean.

But Lao Chu showed zero intent to pass. Eyes locked on the rim, she rose. Perfect ninety-degree elbows. Perfect arc. Swish.

First time playing, that earlier bucket was pure luck. Lao Han sighed, already cutting toward the basket—*whatever, just exercise*.

I charged under the rim. Huang Li followed, knees slightly bent. Still half a head taller than me. Guy’s gotta be 185cm.

We three crouched, ready to rebound—

*Swish.*

Clean again. Net whispered softly.

We froze. The ball bounced once. Twice. No one moved.

Slowly, we turned. Stared at Lao Chu.

A crowd had gathered courtside. A low gasp rippled through them. A kid clutching a basketball blurted, “Holy crap! Lucky swish from downtown? Nice!”

Lao Chu held her follow-through, textbook form. She mimed two more shots, thoughtful, then lowered her hands. “Did I foul? Does it count?”

“Counts,” Huang Li said after a beat. Straightened up, smiled at his crew. “Alright guys. No more messing around. Show some real skill.”

All the guys nodded—except the cross-dresser. Lao Han just smiled, silent.

My turn to inbound. I tried driving, but Huang Li sealed me tight beyond the arc. Streetball rules were loose—if under four players, you could go solo.

I dribbled left, right. He stayed glued. Solid defense.

Lao Chu stood blank-faced, air-shooting in perfect form. The cross-dresser watched her, hesitant.

I faked hard—nearly lost the ball. Stumbled it back. He didn’t chase. I grinned at Huang Li. He grinned back.

Spotting Lao Han drifting near, I faked right, whipped left to her.

Huang Li reacted fast, lunging the moment the ball left my hand. By the time Lao Han caught it, he stood grinning before her.

I moved to set a screen. Lao Han pulled her hood up, dribbled twice between her legs with a smile. Huang Li’s eyes lit. “Not bad. Knows crossovers…”

He didn’t finish.

Lao Han exploded left. He reached—she spun the ball behind her back, crossover sharp and sudden. He’d underestimated her: just some girl who knew basics. Got cleanly shaken.

The guys gaped, scrambling to recover. Lao Han flowed—step-backs, crossovers—slipping past them like toys. Even the cross-dresser nearly tripped, face burning red, fumbling upright.

I leaned on my knees at the arc, watching the show.

Lao Han finished the layup. Didn’t wait for the ball to drop. Hood up, hands back in pockets, strolling toward me with a smile.

The ball spun once on the rim… dropped.

I chuckled, knees bent. *Task done, cloak brushed clean. A true queen never glances back at the blast.* No wonder girls used to scream at her games.

Effortless.

Four guys stood stunned, eyes wide on her retreating back. The court buzzed. Whispers swirled in the growing crowd—now nearly thirty deep.

Someone yelled: “Crush Huang Li!”

“Did you SEE that crossover? I blinked and lost the ball!”

“What’s her name? So skilled!”

“Seen her around lately… Han Changfeng, I think?”

“Yeah, right—*Rukawa Kaede*?”

“Sounds like a guy’s name…”

I grinned at Lao Han. Skills haven’t faded.

Back in middle school, she was the team’s hope. The bald coach first pushed her for city champs. Then provincial. Last I heard? “Go win glory for the nation.”

No joke—love letters flooded her desk daily. Han Changyun? A legend across X Middle School.

High school came.

She still played… but never joined the team again.

Rumors swirled—some heartbreaking reason. One day buying drinks, I asked on a whim.

Her reply? “Nah. Training was just too tiring.”

Score: 2-0. Streetball rules—first to five wins.

Huang Li got serious after those two buckets. Eyes locked on Lao Han. His crew moved tight, passing sharp. Only the cross-dresser lagged half a beat. Still, they clawed back two points.

Ball back in my hands.

Yeah… I was just the inbounder.

I played casually back then. Now? Light-years behind these guys. Since Lao Han went all-out, nobody pressured me. Only loose coverage beyond the arc. Blatant disrespect.

Where to pass? Drive myself? No way—I’d get stripped. Pass to Lao Han? Double-teamed. She shot me a helpless smile.

I dribbled, called out: “Seriously? Two guys on one girl? Taking liberties? Your double-team’s all wrong—you keep staring *where*? School-team guys acting like creeps?”

Lao Han stood hands-in-pockets, eyes crinkled into happy crescents.

Crowd thickened. Boos rose. The lanky defender hesitated, stepped back half a pace.

Huang Li leaned on his knees, smiling. “Don’t try mind games. We haven’t touched her. Just tight coverage.”

Silent, I sighed inwardly. Dribbled on.

Tried driving again—guys shadowed from afar. That lanky kid? Shot’s shaky, but fast. Blocked my last attempt clean. No risking another shot. Gotta find Lao Han.

Glanced around. Lao Chu still air-shooting. The cross-dresser tugged his sleeve, bored. I tried signaling her to move out. She stayed lost in the rim. He glanced up—caught me winking—face flushed scarlet, eyes darting away.

Whispers from the crowd:

“What’s *he* doing, winking at Xueling?”

“Shh… maybe he’s into guys?”