The two of them had been snuggled together upstairs for quite a while. When they came downstairs for dinner, Lin Tao brought up the matter of Liang Wei wanting to meet Zhou Yue with the two of them.

“Attorney Liang said there are some things he needs to ask the person directly.” Lin Tao hesitated and asked, “Is Zhou Yue in a condition where she can see outsiders right now?”

Jiang Yan lowered his head and shoveled a mouthful of rice, his cheeks moving as he chewed. “It’ll probably be a bit difficult. Right now she refuses to see any other men except Aming.”

Lin Tao let out a sigh. “Who knows what kind of outcome that scum will end up with.”

“Don’t dwell on it. Whatever the outcome, it’s what he deserves.” Jiang Yan set down his chopsticks and glanced at his phone. “It’s getting late. Let me send you home first.”

“Alright.” Lin Tao also picked up her phone to check — it was three minutes to nine-thirty. Considering she had class early the next morning, she only asked Jiang Yan to walk her to the entrance of the alley.

While waiting for the car, Lin Tao glanced over at Jiang Yan standing beside her — white top, black pants, slender and upright — simply standing there was enough to be stunning.

Lin Tao had once seen people online say that when a couple had been together long enough, aesthetic fatigue sets in, and the other person stops looking as beautiful as they did at the start of the relationship.

Right now it was probably because she and Jiang Yan hadn’t been together long enough — no matter which angle she looked at him from, he was extraordinarily handsome.

Thinking this, she couldn’t help stealing another glance, and was caught red-handed by Jiang Yan. He raised an eyebrow and pocketed his phone. “What are you looking at?”

“Looking at how handsome you are,” Lin Tao said.

Jiang Yan smiled and turned his gaze away.

The evening breeze was warm and gentle. The pitch-black night sky was thick with stars, and a crescent moon hung in the middle of the heavens, its pearly white light outshining the entire spread of stars.

The fruit stall at the alley entrance had its lights on, their warm yellow glow spilling outward. A wooden table sat in front of the stall, and a young boy was seated at it reading a book. Beside him, a little girl crouched on the ground, grabbing at his trouser leg every so often, babbling something to him. Whenever that happened, the boy would always bend down, smile, and lift the little girl up into his arms.

In front of the stall was a display of colorful fruits in abundance. Inside the shop, parents moved about busily. The mother came out every now and then to bring her children freshly washed fruit.

Life was ordinary and simple, but very happy.

Lin Tao withdrew her gaze, lowered her head, and watched the tiny scattered silhouettes on the ground. She asked offhandedly, “Zhou Ming is so young — why did you agree to let him come work at the shop back then?”

“Hmm?” Jiang Yan seemed not to have expected her to bring this up so suddenly. He froze for a few seconds before he recalled and answered, “Because looking at him, I see myself from a long time ago.”

“I see.” Lin Tao didn’t ask further.

Jiang Yan looked into the distance, his voice carrying a slightly drifting quality. “When I was his age, I clearly had the chance to have everything better, but I chose to sink into degeneration instead.”

“Before my father passed away, he told me to learn to love this world.” Every time Jiang Yan thought of Fang Hai, all those sharp edges all over him would unconsciously retract, and he would become very gentle. “I think if it were him, he would probably have made the same decision.”

Lin Tao looked at Jiang Yan, and for a moment felt as though she couldn’t see through him — yet at the same time, an uncontrollable ache welled up inside her heart for him.

“He often said something to me,” Jiang Yan said. “That a person should, within the limits of their ability, extend a helping hand to those who need it.”

Lin Tao had never met Fang Hai. She had only seen one photograph of Jiang Yan with him, and most of what she knew came from the things Jiang Yan mentioned about him.

She didn’t know what kind of man he had been — one who could hold such a mindset in his heart, great yet also possessed of a delicate and tender gentleness.

She stepped forward and took Jiang Yan’s hand, gazing into the thick, dissolving darkness of the night. “Your father was a good person. And a very good father.”

Jiang Yan smiled softly. “I know.”

“So are you.” Lin Tao looked at him. “You’re the best person I’ve ever met.”

Jiang Yan smiled again but said nothing.

Lin Tao smiled along with him, and softly called his name. “Jiang Yan.”

He turned his head to look at her, his gaze tender. “Hmm?”

“Everything will be okay.”

“Hmm.”

Yes.

Everything will be okay.

No matter what unpleasant things we are currently enduring, everything will be okay. Even if we are living in darkness, as long as we keep going, sunlight will eventually shine in here.

After the darkness comes the dawn. Life will not disappoint us forever.

One week later.

Zhou Yue’s condition gradually improved under the guidance of a professional psychologist. She was no longer violently rejecting men, and at Jiang Yan’s arrangement, Liang Wei brought a notary official to meet with her.

The conversation went relatively smoothly. Zhou Yue didn’t show too strong a resistance, and whatever Liang Wei asked, she answered obediently — though she was still a little afraid of people and kept hiding behind Zhou Ming the whole time.

Liang Wei had also specifically minored in psychology during university, and for children like Zhou Yue he had his own specialized approach to communication. Very quickly, he had clarified the entire sequence of events from that day.

Jiang Yan and Lin Tao had been in the hospital room too, only they hadn’t appeared beside Zhou Yue — they both stood behind the folding screen in the room.

Even though the incident had already happened and they already knew the situation clearly in their hearts, hearing the words come from Zhou Yue’s mouth still made people feel intensely furious.

“…I called out for my brother, and he covered my mouth.” Zhou Yue’s voice was very small. “…It hurt a lot, I was already crying, and he still wouldn’t let go.”

“He took off my trousers…”

“…It hurt.”

“He hit my brother with a stick. I saw a lot of blood…”

……

Jiang Yan, standing to one side, clenched his fist tightly. Lin Tao’s eyes went red, and unable to bear listening anymore, she quickly left the room.

Grandma Liang, seated on the sofa, lowered her head and wiped her tears.

On the day Zhou Yue met with the incident, she had been staying at Grandma Liang’s house. After lunch, Grandma Liang, feeling unwell, had taken her medicine and gone to sleep. Before falling asleep, Zhou Yue had been watching television in the sitting room. In a moment of carelessness, Grandma Liang had forgotten to close the door. Zhou Yue saw her own front door open and thought Zhou Ming had come home, so she ran back.

No one could have known that something like this would happen right at the entrance to their home.

Seeing the bright and clever little girl she had known transformed into this, Grandma Liang felt worse than anyone.

Jiang Yan had also heard Zhou Ming bring up this incident before. Hearing the old woman’s movements now, he walked over, sat down on the sofa beside her, and said quietly, “Grandma Liang.”

Grandma Liang was over sixty this year. She had no children of her own and had lived in the alley for several decades. Since her husband had passed away three years ago, she had been living alone. She had always looked after the two siblings of the Zhou family.

She was kind to people, and her pockets were always filled with sweets. Whenever she went out for a stroll and ran into children in the alley, she would always hand them sweets to eat. So the children in the alley all liked her, and whenever they had nothing to do, they liked to crowd into her home to watch television dramas.

It was noisy, but Grandma Liang enjoyed it all the same.

Ever since the incident happened to Zhou Yue, Grandma Liang had been living in self-blame — no appetite, no desire to eat, and she had lost a whole size.

Knowing how badly the old woman felt, Jiang Yan said gently, “Grandma Liang, what happened to Zhou Yue is not your fault. Please don’t blame yourself too much. None of us could have anticipated something like this happening.”

Grandma Liang wiped at the corners of her eyes, which were lined with fine wrinkles. “Little Yue is such a good child, I really…”

The old woman shook her head, unable to go on.

“Zhou Ming and the others don’t blame you at all.” Jiang Yan said. “They are also very grateful for all the care you’ve given them. Something like this is hard for everyone, and Zhou Ming and Zhou Yue are suffering most of all — but no matter what, they have never once blamed you.”

“I know, I know, those two siblings are both good children.” Grandma Liang let out a sigh. “But good people don’t always get what they deserve…”

Jiang Yan sighed along with her and said nothing more.

On the other side of the screen, Liang Wei had already finished learning the full sequence of events. He quickly tucked away his recording pen and notebook, then pulled something out of his bag and handed it to Zhou Yue, smiling warmly. “Little Yue was wonderful today. This is a small gift from your uncle as a reward.”

What Liang Wei gave to Zhou Yue was a set of small dog figurines — a box of twelve, all different breeds, each one exquisitely crafted and utterly adorable.

Though Zhou Yue was still hiding behind Zhou Ming, her eyes lit up the moment she saw what Liang Wei was holding — yet she still didn’t reach out to take it.

Liang Wei understood that she was still a little frightened at heart, so he said nothing, set the gift on the table beside her, picked up his bag, and stood. “Alright, your uncle has to head back now. Little Yue, rest well.”

With that, he looked at Zhou Ming and gave him a pat on the shoulder. “Take good care of yourself, and take good care of your little sister.”

The wound on Zhou Ming’s head hadn’t been sutured yet and was still wrapped in bandages. Beneath the bandages, his eyes were red all the way through. “Thank you, Uncle Liang.”

“You’re welcome. Your uncle is leaving now.”

Liang Wei came around one side of the screen and, seeing Lin Tao standing outside the hospital room, greeted her. “If nothing goes wrong, the trial can open next week.”

Lin Tao nodded and thanked him. “Alright. Thank you for your trouble, Attorney Liang.”

“At that point, you can accompany Zhou Ming to attend as family observers.” Having delivered his instructions, Liang Wei answered a phone call and went straight into the elevator.

Lin Tao looked at the sunlight coming in from the end of the corridor and exhaled a long, deep breath.

The trial date came very quickly.

The day of the trial was a brilliantly sunny day. Lin Tao and Jiang Yan, together with several uncles and aunties from the alley, accompanied Zhou Ming to court.

The trial proceedings were swift.

In the courtroom, Liang Wei produced a recording pen. Its contents were the testimony he had recorded when he met with Zhou Yue. The entire courtroom fell silent.

The little girl’s timid voice echoed through the hall via the recording pen.

The recording wasn’t long — only about ten minutes. Near the end, there was a thirty-second gap of silence, followed once again by Zhou Yue’s voice: “Uncle Liang, why did that man do something like that to me…”

The audio stopped abruptly.

Liang Wei had not answered that question.

No one could answer a question like that.

……

The verdict was read out in open court.

“…Pursuant to Articles 234 and 236 of the Criminal Law of the People’s Republic of China, the defendant Zhu Ying is hereby sentenced to life imprisonment, to be carried out immediately.”

……

Upon hearing the result, Zhou Ming, seated below, shot to his feet. His gaze locked onto the man sitting in the defendant’s seat. His eye sockets strained so hard they turned red, and the fingers hanging at his sides gripped tightly.

Only after Zhu Ying was escorted away by the court officers did Zhou Ming come back to his senses. His entire body went limp and he collapsed to the floor, burying his head in his hands and sobbing uncontrollably.

The young boy hunched forward and wailed, his body thin and stooped, his cries hoarse and sharp — as though he were weeping out every last grievance he had ever suffered over all these years.

Everyone present was infected by his crying without exception. Every person looked at the boy kneeling on the ground, their own eyes turning red.

Lin Tao looked away and breathed deeply. Her gaze fell on the scale carved at the very top of the front wall of the courtroom — justice on one side, fairness on the other.

This world may be rife with injustice, but justice will never be absent.

In the courtroom, Liang Wei, dressed in formal attire, had put away the aggressive bearing he had shown toward the defendant. When he turned and met Lin Tao’s gaze, he gave a slight nod and smile.

Lin Tao’s eyelid gave a small twitch, and she nodded and smiled back at him.

After the court was dismissed, the uncles and aunties from the alley had originally planned to arrange a dinner to treat Liang Wei. Liang Wei declined on the grounds of avoiding the appearance of impropriety.

He carried his black briefcase, wore his gold-rimmed glasses, and had swept all the fringe away from his forehead, revealing a full brow and a set of well-defined features. His black suit, tailored for him alone, lent him an extraordinary and upright bearing.

“There’s no need to thank me. Bringing wrongdoers to justice is what we’re supposed to do.” Liang Wei patted Zhou Ming on the shoulder and instructed him, “Take good care of yourself. If anything comes up in the future, contact me anytime.”

With that, he glanced at the assembled crowd, gave a slight bow of his head in acknowledgment, and said, “I have other matters to attend to. I’ll be going first.”

“Alright, take care.”

Not long after Liang Wei left, the uncles and aunties from the alley took Zhou Ming home as well. Lin Tao and Jiang Yan had been running around handling things related to this incident for the past two weeks. Now that everything had settled, the two of them had no energy left to spare, and each went home separately.

After getting home, Lin Tao saw Jiang Yan post the verdict in the group chat with Hu Hanghang and the others. Everyone weighed in with all kinds of comments, expressing that the result was deeply satisfying.

Lin Tao didn’t join the conversation. After sending Jiang Yan a message, she put her phone on charge, walked to the window, and drew the curtains. The thick curtains blocked out the sunlight entirely, leaving the room without a trace of light. Lin Tao felt her way to the bed in the dark, lifted the blanket, and lay down.

Drowsiness gradually swept over her.

When she woke again, she had no idea what time it was.

Lin Tao reached out and felt for her phone charging at the head of the bed, unlocked it, and the screen lit up.

It was a few minutes to six o’clock.

She rubbed her eyes, got up, and opened the curtains. Outside, it had started raining at some point — the wind was howling and the rain was coming down hard. The sky was a dark, heavy gray, blanketed in black clouds. In the courtyard, the branches of the poplar trees swayed in the wind and rain, though their trunks stood motionless.

Lin Tao yawned and opened the window a small crack. The sound of the rain became clearer, and the wind that blew in carried a moist, cool freshness.

She turned and went into the bathroom to wash her face, then walked out of her room.

It was the weekend, and Fang Yisong was home too — though “resting” really just meant working somewhere different.

Lin Tao didn’t disturb her, and sat down in the living room to turn on the TV.

She hadn’t been watching long when Fang Yisong came out of the study. Seeing her sitting on the sofa, she smiled. “You’re awake. Go get yourself ready — we’re going out for dinner tonight.”

“Huh?” Lin Tao set down the remote and glanced out the window. “It’s raining this hard outside. Are we still going out?”

Fang Yisong, not looking at her, walked straight to the living room to pour some water. “I made dinner plans with Attorney Liang a while back. It wouldn’t be polite to cancel.”

Hearing it was dinner with Liang Wei, Lin Tao actually found herself a little interested. “Alright then, let me go change.”

By the time they left the house, the earlier downpour had gradually tapered into a light drizzle. Fang Yisong had booked a place not far away — about a ten-minute drive.

On the way over, Liang Wei sent Fang Yisong a message saying he was bringing one more person. Fang Yisong chatted back casually with him for a few rounds.

They arrived at the restaurant quickly.

Fang Yisong went to park the car, and Lin Tao went into the restaurant first. A server led her to the private room that had been reserved.

Liang Wei and his party hadn’t arrived yet.

The server in the private room brewed Lin Tao a cup of tea.

“Thank you.” Lin Tao accepted the cup and took a small sip. A sweet, clean tea fragrance spread across her tongue. She set the cup down and played on her phone, at loose ends.

After a while, the sound of voices came from outside the private room.

Very quickly, the door to the private room was pushed open.

Lin Tao looked back, saw Fang Yisong and Liang Wei, and immediately put away her phone and stood up, smiling in greeting. “Attorney Liang.”

“Lin Tao.” Liang Wei smiled and gave a nod.

As the two of them walked in one after the other, Lin Tao noticed the young man following behind Liang Wei.

He was slightly taller and slimmer than Liang Wei. His hair was cut short and neat. His eyebrows were strong and his eyes were bright, his dark irises deep and cool. His nose bridge was high, his lips thin, and his entire bearing carried a very distinct sense of aloofness — yet undeniably, he was strikingly handsome.

After they were seated, Fang Yisong introduced the young man to Lin Tao. “Tao Tao, this is Attorney Liang’s younger brother — Liang Yu.”

“And this is my daughter, Lin Tao.”

The two young people who had been named quickly looked at each other across the round table.

Liang Yu, being the young man, was first to stand up. He extended a hand toward her, his voice clear and cool, like a mountain spring. “Hello.”

Lin Tao also stood up and shook his hand politely. “Hello.”

No further exchange followed.

At the table, Fang Yisong and Liang Wei chatted away.

Lin Tao lowered her head and drank her soup.

Both the soup bowl and the ceramic spoon were a translucent white, holding a pigeon-and-ginseng broth that had been simmered for a long time. The surface of the soup shimmered and glistened, scattered with a few plump wolfberries for seasoning. The fragrance was rich and the flavor exquisite.

Lin Tao drank two small bowls of the soup in succession.

Liang Wei suddenly steered the conversation toward her. “What year of high school is Lin Tao in?”

She set down her ceramic spoon. “Year Two.”

“What stream?”

“Sciences.”

Liang Wei nodded and, as though asking casually, put in a question, “Almost Year Three now — do you have a school in mind?”

Lin Tao paused for a few seconds. “Tsinghua.”

Liang Wei seemed somewhat surprised and slightly raised an eyebrow. “Why?”

“My boyfriend wants to go to Tsinghua.” Lin Tao looked at him without the slightest evasiveness.

At that, Liang Wei gave a light laugh and said nothing more. Across the table, Liang Yu lifted his head and glanced at her.

Lin Tao met his gaze and smiled politely.

Liang Yu froze for a moment, then tugged at the corners of his mouth and produced the first smile of the evening.

Though it was quite stiff.

“……”

Lin Tao didn’t think much of it.

Fang Yisong brought up the morning’s court hearing, and she and Liang Wei began chatting again.

The dinner lasted until nine o’clock before it ended.

On the way home, Fang Yisong jokingly mentioned to Lin Tao, “Actually, Attorney Liang originally wanted to set you and his younger brother up.”

“Huh?” Lin Tao had not expected this at all. What’s more, when handling Zhou Yue’s matter, she and Jiang Yan had always shown up together, so she had assumed Liang Wei knew about their relationship.

Lin Tao thought of Liang Yu’s reserved and reticent manner and couldn’t help shaking her head. “Even if I didn’t have a boyfriend, that matchmaking could never have worked.”

“Why not?”

“Our personalities are incompatible.”

Lin Tao felt that the kind of girl who could be with someone like the taciturn Liang Yu would have to be an extremely sweet and adorable type. If it were her, she’d probably not be able to take it and end up getting into fights with Liang Yu.

Thinking of this, Lin Tao involuntarily recalled when she had first gotten to know Jiang Yan. Back then, she wanted to get into a fight with him every single day.

Later, after spending more time with him, she discovered this person wasn’t as terrible as she’d thought — and sometimes even found him quite endearing.

Lin Tao thought of a few things and couldn’t hold back a smile, then took out her phone and sent Jiang Yan a message —

Boyfriend, what are you up to?

Jiang Yan seemed to have his phone glued to him and replied instantly —

Eating. Did you just wake up?

No, I woke up a while ago —

Hmm, what have you been doing then?

Lin Tao thought for a moment and decided to tease him a little —

Blind date —?

Lin Tao held her phone, her slender, beautiful fingers flying rapidly across the screen —

Tonight my mom took Attorney Liang out for dinner, and Attorney Liang brought his younger brother along. Very cool and handsome —

……—

His name is even lovely, he’s called Liang Yu —

……—

What a shame though.

He finally responded to her silence —

What’s a shame? [smiling face]

Lin Tao could perfectly picture the expression on his face as he typed those few words even through the screen. She couldn’t hold back a soft laugh, typed a few lines, and sent them —

What a shame — I already have a boyfriend. And my boyfriend is better looking than him. And his name sounds nicer too —

Boyfriend, you’ve won without even trying.

After an unexpected heavy rainstorm, the temperature in Xi City rose steadily. The matter of the Zhou siblings had been settled and was now behind them.

The eagerly anticipated school basketball league at No. 10 High School also arrived on schedule.

Per the rules, participating classes determined their first-round matchups by drawing lots. Class Eighteen had originally drawn the Arts Class Ten, but since a match had been arranged beforehand, they privately swapped draws — the result submitted was the one already decided on long ago: Sciences Class Three.

According to the school’s schedule, the match between Sciences Class Eighteen and Sciences Class Three was the very last game on the afternoon of the second day of the league.

News of Jiang Yan’s participation in the match had spread throughout the school long before it happened. One rumor in the grapevine claimed this match was the school tyrant’s way of settling a personal grudge, while another said that the Class Three captain was secretly in love with Lin Tao’s deskmate, and the school tyrant had found out — so the school tyrant had joined the match for the express purpose of beating him on both the romantic and the basketball fronts, crushing him completely underfoot.

But whatever the reason, Jiang Yan’s participation was attention-grabbing enough on its own. By the time the match came around, the area outside the court was packed three rows deep, and some people had even borrowed stepladders from the school’s facilities department.

The level of excitement was no less than a full-scale competition.

The culture and recreation committee member in the class had originally wanted to invite Lin Tao to join Class Eighteen’s cheering squad, but Lin Tao declined. The two of them had already caused enough of a stir at school. If she went and joined the cheering squad on top of that, giving Jiang Yan a public display of support in front of so many people, everyone would probably stop watching the game and spend all their time gossiping instead.

Hu Hanghang and the others were quite disappointed to hear that Lin Tao had turned down a spot on the cheering squad. Jiang Yan cast a look their way. “What are you disappointed about?”

Hu Hanghang: “……Not disappointed at all, not at all.”

Jiang Yan was actually fairly pleased that Lin Tao wasn’t joining the cheering squad — especially before the game started, when both classes’ squads took the floor in their uniforms, and he caught sight of Class Eighteen’s outfits, which showed arms and legs. He couldn’t help turning his head to murmur to Lin Tao, “Good thing you didn’t go.”

Lin Tao was busy watching the performance below and looked up at him. “Why?”

“If you were standing there in that outfit cheering for someone else.” Jiang Yan gave a soft snort, draped his jacket over their intertwined hands, and said in a languid, unhurried tone, “No. 10 High School would probably be running with blood today.”

“……”

After the cheering squad performance ended, the basketball match officially began.

Both teams’ players started taking the floor.

Class Eighteen’s jerseys had been custom-ordered by Old Yu, very much in line with his own taste — bright, vivid red, with white numbers printed on the back.

Jiang Yan was number twenty-three. Lin Tao had heard Hu Hanghang mention it was the number of a player he admired, though she’d remembered the number but not the name — she wasn’t familiar with that world.

The two teams stood facing each other in the center of the court. The referee blew the whistle and signaled both teams to shake hands.

Jiang Yan stood in the middle of the line, facing Class Three’s captain, He Wen — the person he’d had a falling-out with back in middle school.

Guan Che had originally heard that He Wen had challenged Jiang Yan to a match and planned to come as outside support, but unfortunately, a national computer competition had come up over those two days and he’d had to take his team to Lake City for it.

He Wen looked to be around 190 centimeters — a little taller even than Jiang Yan.

The two teams shook hands with zero warmth. He Wen gripped Jiang Yan’s hand without releasing it and leaned in to speak. “Play properly. I don’t want your class to just be here making up the numbers.”

Jiang Yan stared at him and snorted. “Open your eyes and look carefully at who’s going to be the one calling the shots here.”

He Wen released his hand and shrugged indifferently, stepping back.

The match officially began.

In anticipation of Class Three’s tall players, Jiang Yan had specifically trained his jump shot for the tip-off. The moment the ball left the referee’s hand, he moved sideways and reached out, claiming the ball first.

Class Three had apparently not expected to lose the tip-off, and froze for two or three seconds.

Every second on the court counts. In those few seconds alone, Jiang Yan had already led the charge straight into Class Three’s paint.

He Wen called out in agitation, “Get back on defense, damn it!”

But it was already too late. Jiang Yan stepped back one step, planting his foot at the corner of the three-point line, glanced sideways at the Class Three players charging toward him, curled the corners of his lips, lifted his hand, flicked his fingertips downward, and released the shot.

The ball slammed against the backboard with a bang, then dropped cleanly into the net.

Less than half a minute into the game, Class Eighteen scored their first basket with a remarkable lead, successfully earning three points.

The crowd’s cheers rose in wave after wave.

Jiang Yan caught He Wen’s gaze through the crowd and gave him a thumbs-up — then slowly rotated his hand.

Thumbs down. Dripping with provocation.

He Wen cursed, his emotions flaring. “Damn it!”

Jiang Yan shrugged indifferently and started running again.

The atmosphere on the court grew increasingly heated. The noise swelled in waves, as though it could tear a hole through the sky above. On the court, young boys ran full tilt, pouring sweat.

Class Three’s overall height was marginally greater than Class Eighteen’s. Using the advantage of their height, they intercepted Song Yuan’s passes several times and also racked up a significant number of points.

By the end of the first quarter, the two classes’ scores were neck and neck — Class Eighteen was ahead by only two points.

During the break, Song Yuan knocked back a huge gulp of water, his breathing unsteady. “He Wen, that dog, is targeting me specifically. If this keeps up for the next few quarters, I’m done for.”

Jiang Yan took the water Lin Tao handed him and brought it to his lips. He didn’t seem particularly tense — he looked fairly relaxed, actually — and glanced over at Xu Yichuan. “You play one more quarter. If it’s not working out, the two of us can switch positions.”

He turned to look at Xu Yichuan. “When you find an opening, just pass the ball straight to Song Yuan. Don’t hesitate — whenever you get the ball, give it to him.”

“Also, watch out for their number eight, Fang Chengliang. His hands are a bit dirty.”

When Jiang Yan had just carried the ball past him, Fang Chengliang’s elbow had slammed hard into his chest — whether intentionally or not — and there had been footwork involved too. But the man’s positioning was off-center, in the referee’s blind spot, so the referee couldn’t see it, and it didn’t count as a foul.

“Got it.” Xu Yichuan adjusted his wristband and let his eyes sweep over the five Class Three players sitting in the rest area, lined up like a wall. He couldn’t help muttering, “What the hell did these Class Three guys eat to grow up so built? Standing in front of me I feel like they could lift me up with one hand.”

This quip, half complaint and half joke, set everyone around them off laughing.

“I’m sitting out next quarter.” Jiang Yan took a sip of water, his throat moving as he swallowed. “Yu Yifan, you’re up — I’ll observe from the sideline. Stretch out the line a bit.”

“Got it.”

Playing one quarter and resting one was Jiang Yan’s small habit on the court.

Playing the first quarter was to familiarize himself with the opposing team’s attack and defense patterns. Resting the next was to better observe the opposing players’ characteristics, then formulate appropriate offensive plans for the final two quarters, keeping both strategy and counterstrategy in mind.

Hu Hanghang joked from behind them, “Our data analyst, Teacher Jiang, is online again. The opposing team should be careful — don’t let our Teacher Jiang with his eagle-eyed vision catch your weaknesses, whatever you do.”

“Impossible. There are no weaknesses Teacher Jiang can’t see,” Xu Yichuan added.

Hu Hanghang and the others talked up Jiang Yan as though he were some national-level professional coach, which got all the official team members and substitutes present extremely fired up, rubbing their fists and itching for action like they were heading out to grind the opposing players into the floor rather than play a match — and still making sure to each add a line of trash talk at the end.

The second quarter was about to begin at the sound of the whistle.

Yu Yifan stood up, shed his outer jacket, and took the court in his red jersey alongside the other four players from the first quarter. The crowd noticed that Jiang Yan wasn’t planning to play the second quarter.

He Wen, standing in the center of the court, glanced disdainfully at Class Eighteen’s players. “What’s this? What does Jiang Yan mean by this? He plays one quarter and then steps off? Is he scared?”

The mid-quarter break had just ended, and the audience hadn’t recovered the same level of excitement as before. Without the screaming to muffle it, He Wen’s deliberate emphasis rang out especially clearly on the court.

Xu Yichuan had picked up nothing else from being around Jiang Yan, but the art of shutting people down he’d absorbed through sheer proximity — and had mastered it completely.

Faced with He Wen’s provocation, he kept his head down adjusting his wristband and said unhurriedly, “Sorry, our classmate Jiang Yan says that for opponents at your level, playing one quarter is already giving you face.”

“What the—!” He Wen raised his hand and pointed at Xu Yichuan.

The other four members of Class Eighteen quickly crowded in, and Class Three’s people pushed forward too. The situation looked as though a fight might break out any second.

The referee blew the whistle in time. “Both teams — please be mindful of your conduct.”

He Wen flung his hand down furiously, his eyes blazing.

Hu Hanghang, who had been watching the spectacle from the stands and delighted in stirring things up, shouted out, “Could the opposing team’s player please calm down? We’re here to play a serious match — not to start a fight. Could you show a little respect for your opponents?”

The remaining substitute team members joined in the chorus.

“Right, you can’t just start throwing punches because you’re down two points.”

“Our class has always upheld the friendly principle of friendship first, competition second.”

Not to put too fine a point on it, the students of Class Eighteen were, one after another, exceptionally skilled at infuriating people.

Lin Tao watched with her own eyes as the anger meters of those five Class Three players shot from fifty percent straight up to a hundred, with signs of imminent overflow.

She glanced in amusement at a certain someone who had been completely deaf to all the commotion on the court. “Is this really appropriate? Aren’t you worried they’ll convert that rage into combat power?”

Jiang Yan smiled with the knowing air of someone who had seen it all, his long legs stretched lazily out in front of him, his eyes half-lidded, his tone unhurried and arrogant. “Impossible. Those few from their class are the type with simple minds and strong bodies.”

“They can only convert rage into resentment — which will only affect themselves.”

“……”

Lin Tao neither agreed nor disagreed with his assessment. After all, those few Class Three players did seem to be not particularly sharp — they got riled up and were about to launch themselves to the moon just from being casually mocked by his classmates, with no steadiness whatsoever. Not composed at all.

The second quarter began quickly. This time, Class Three had learned from the first quarter and claimed the ball first — but they couldn’t outrun Class Eighteen’s lightning-quick back-defense. The ball was intercepted near the paint area. Xu Yichuan used his advantage of being small and fast, and passed the ball to Song Yuan.

But Class Three’s back-defense wasn’t bad either, and they intercepted Song Yuan’s ball the same way. Their team launched a counterattack, and figures sprinted back and forth on the court — the atmosphere was lively.

Before the match started, Jiang Yan had dug out a pen and notebook from his bag.

Lin Tao glanced over: it was filled with notes on the weaknesses and strengths of Hu Hanghang and the others, and further back were even some analyses of the opposing players’ characteristics.

She couldn’t help drawing a sharp breath of surprise. “For a basketball match, you’re this serious?”

Jiang Yan kept his head down, his well-defined hand gripping the pen, and started writing the opposing players’ names at the top of a blank page with quick, clean strokes. “I never go into battle unprepared.”

Lin Tao was impressed and cupped her fists in salute. “Truly worthy of a big shot.”

“……” Jiang Yan curved his lips into a smile, and tapped her on the forehead with his pen. “How can you be so silly?”

“Get lost.”

After the whistle blew, Jiang Yan stopped talking to Lin Tao. His gaze stayed fixed on the court, and he occasionally lowered his head to jot something down in his notebook.

Lin Tao cradled his backpack and sat beside him.

At some point, Old Yu also arrived at the venue, bringing along his good friend Blackie and Class Teacher Lao Yang from Meng Xin’s class — three middle-aged members of the cheering squad who, the moment they made their move, shook the entire crowd.

The three of them had somehow commissioned a banner. Old Yu handed the tightly rolled-up banner to the Class Eighteen boys. “Here, you lot sit in the back row — hold this banner up. Higher.”

The boys took it. The banner was passed from one end to the other, and two people on either side pulled it up. The large characters printed on it fluttered in the wind —

Literature reigns supreme, might conquers all — Year Two, Class Eighteen, dominates No. 10 High!

The banner was long. When raised, the entire court could see it — especially the Class Three students and teachers sitting directly opposite on the other side of the court, who had a particularly unobstructed view.

The Class Three contingent: “!?”

You could do it like that?!

Xu Yichuan, sprinting on the court, looked back at the banner and let out a whoop. “Old Yu — we love you!”

Old Yu laughed merrily and waved at them.

Cheers surged across the court in wave after wave.

Lin Tao looked back at the banner, took a photo of it, and held the phone up in front of Jiang Yan. “The middle-aged players truly know how to cause a stir.”

Jiang Yan had been focused on watching what was happening on the court. Lin Tao suddenly thrust the phone at him, and he startled for a second — then, once he made out the words on the banner in the photo, he couldn’t hold back a laugh.

He set down his pen and glanced back.

Class Eighteen’s students, in order to secure the best spots around the court before the match, had specifically borrowed several iron ladder frames and were sitting on the very top rungs, with the boys at either end gripping the flag poles of the banner and holding it high aloft. When the wind came, the banner only swayed.

The enormous characters were conspicuous and impossible to ignore — as if flaunting something.

Jiang Yan rubbed his face, a smile leaking through his fingers. “When it comes to pouring fuel on a fire, Old Yu is first — no one can claim second.”

Lin Tao also found it genuinely funny, and bent forward, pressing her arm against her knees with her head hanging down. “Old Yu is the most un-homeroom-teacher-like homeroom teacher I’ve ever seen.”

The three middle-aged cheering squad members felt not the slightest thing wrong with putting up the banner. Old Yu, smiling contentedly, watched the boys hold the banner high, then threaded through the crowd to the foot of the ladder frames.

Hu Hanghang and the others stood up to give up their spots. “Three teachers, please sit here.”

Old Yu waved them off. “You sit. We’ll watch for a bit and then head off.”

On the court, the moment Class Eighteen’s players saw the banner it was as though they’d been injected with a stimulant. The bright red figures darted back and forth through the crowd. The orange ball clanged repeatedly into the net, the scoreboard on the opposite side kept changing, and the point gap between the two classes steadily widened.

“Phweet—!”

The whistle blew — the second quarter ended.

The two-point gap from the first quarter had now grown to a ten-point lead.

Jiang Yan also set down his pen, reached sideways into the box behind him, fished out a bottle of water, and tossed it to Song Yuan, who was walking toward him. “Are you playing the next quarter?”

“Playing.” Song Yuan caught the water and sat down beside him. He also knew about the personal grudge between Jiang Yan and Class Three’s captain He Wen, and took a sip of water before asking, “You’re not going up this quarter? You don’t plan to personally grind them into the ground and leave them pasted to the floor, unable to get up?”

Lin Tao, overhearing their conversation: “……”

Among the five of them, Lin Tao had always assumed Song Yuan leaned toward the cultured, refined type. And on ordinary occasions, Song Yuan did present himself as comparatively calm and steady, rarely displaying any obvious emotional fluctuations.

But it turned out that all of them, at their core, were no different from each other — equally scheming and arrogant, not an ounce of sentiment when it came to talking trash.

Jiang Yan closed the notebook filled with writing. His long, beautiful fingers ruffled through his black hair a couple of times and said without mercy, “Of course I’m playing. How else do I let them know who’s calling the shots here?”

His tone was arrogant and overbearing.

Lin Tao: “……”