After two quarters of play, the fifteen-minute halftime break saw Jiang Yan giving the others a quick crash course, with a more comprehensive analysis of Class Three’s players.
“Don’t worry about He Wen — leave him to me.” Jiang Yan looked at the opposing Class Three players and tapped his notebook with his pen cap. “Their number three is tall but can’t keep up in speed — no need to guard him too closely.”
“Number eleven is the main attacker. Xu Yichuan and Chen Sirun, keep a watch on him. Next quarter I’m switching positions with Song Yuan. When I have the ball, Liu Sheng, keep an eye on their number five’s position.”
“Got it.”
“The last one is their number eight, Fang Chengliang — everyone watch out for him. His moves are dirty. He likes to foul in the referee’s blind spot.”
Jiang Yan glanced at the scoreboard, his brow furrowing slightly. “Especially when the score is this far behind — his moves will definitely increase.”
Liu Sheng looked over at the opposing team. “Are they about to sub someone in?”
Xu Yichuan hooked an arm around his shoulder. “Doesn’t matter. Just remember which position they’re covering for, and stick to the same defensive assignments Yan-bro just set.”
“Sure, no problem.”
A few minutes remained before the third quarter started. Class Eighteen’s side had things lively with chatter and laughter.
Jiang Yan had his head down, fixing his wristband.
The coin pendant that had previously been worn on his wrist had been moved to his neck. The coin was tucked inside his shirt, with only a length of black cord peeking out.
His skin was fair; against it, the contrast of black and white was sharp — you’d notice it at first glance.
Lin Tao nudged his arm and, when he glanced over, asked quietly, “Do you want me to hold your necklace for you while you’re playing? I’ll give it back when you’re done.”
Hearing her bring up the necklace, Jiang Yan instinctively reached up to feel for it. Since he was doing so through his shirt, all he could feel was the outline of the coin.
He quickly let go, unconcerned. “No need — it won’t get in the way.”
When the third quarter started and both teams took the court, Class Three substituted their number three — the tall but slow player Jiang Yan had flagged — for a number six who was equally tall.
Jiang Yan didn’t pay it much mind and just asked the others to spare a bit of attention on number six.
The moment the match resumed, it turned out exactly as Jiang Yan had said — Class Three’s Fang Chengliang started increasing his moves. Apparently, He Wen had told him something, because throughout the entire match, Fang Chengliang barely went for baskets. He basically shadowed Jiang Yan the whole time. Whenever Jiang Yan had the ball, this man was never far from his side.
Jiang Yan’s ball-handling technique was solid, but even he couldn’t hold up against someone trailing him this relentlessly. A few times when he was driving past, Fang Chengliang’s elbow landed squarely against his chest — clearly deliberate, yet always subtle enough to go undetected. From an outsider’s view, it looked as though Jiang Yan had run into it himself.
When Jiang Yan got the ball again and prepared to drive toward the paint, Fang Chengliang pushed in close again, coming on fast.
Jiang Yan gave a cold laugh. “So you’re just marking me, is that it?”
Fang Chengliang also smiled — but insincerely. “It’s a match. Whoever has the ball, I mark.”
“Fine. Then mark well.”
Jiang Yan kept his eyes on him and made the same motion as before — stepping to drive past. Fang Chengliang could practically see the next moment playing out before him.
But what he hadn’t expected was that just as Jiang Yan was about to drive past like before, he suddenly switched the ball from his right hand to his left without warning, then swung his arm back and passed the ball out.
Xu Yichuan, already waiting in position, caught the ball with fluid timing. As all of Class Three surged toward Xu Yichuan, Jiang Yan kept running forward as before — except as he brushed past, his arm swung naturally in a wide arc, and his fist connected squarely with Fang Chengliang’s jaw.
He didn’t hold back the force. Fang Chengliang let out a muffled grunt.
Jiang Yan kept running forward, and no one noticed his move.
On the other end, Xu Yichuan caught the ball and, following the prearranged plan, quickly passed it to Liu Sheng before Class Three’s players could close in. Liu Sheng, using his height advantage, drove into the paint — and just when everyone assumed he’d shoot from inside, Liu Sheng, against all expectations, passed the ball to Jiang Yan, who had already sprinted to the three-point line.
With no one defending him, Jiang Yan caught the ball cleanly, raised his hand, and launched the shot. The instant the ball left his hand, Class Three’s hearts sank.
It went in — without grazing the rim, straight into the net.
Another three-pointer, exactly as expected.
The moment the ball went through the hoop, the cheering from the stands surged another notch higher. The two boys holding up the banner with Class Eighteen would have run a lap around the court with it if they could.
The deep red banner billowed in the wind. Young boys in blazing red jerseys ran free and uninhibited across the court, drenched in sweat.
Each instant was a mark of youth.
……
Jiang Yan stole the spotlight once more, which drove He Wen to openly tear into Fang Chengliang in a tirade. “What the hell kind of defense were you playing? He goes to pass and you couldn’t even see it?!”
Fang Chengliang was burning inside too, but given He Wen’s status, he held back. “I guarantee it — won’t happen again.”
“Next time it happens, you’re off.” He Wen said furiously.
Fang Chengliang ground his teeth, his eyes locked onto Jiang Yan.
The match continued.
Class Eighteen appeared unbothered by Fang Chengliang’s deliberate marking and still let Jiang Yan carry the ball — only this time, Class Three had wised up and assigned someone to shadow Xu Yichuan.
Too bad.
Every stratagem has its counter.
This time, Jiang Yan passed the ball to Chen Sirun, who was standing to the right behind him.
“Damn it!” He Wen cursed. “Fall back on defense!!”
Class Three had thought they were keeping to their earlier pattern. Fang Chengliang quickly cut across to get on Jiang Yan — but too late, once again. Chen Sirun had the ball for less than three seconds before passing it swiftly to Song Yuan, who was closest to him. Song Yuan jumped on the spot, raised his hand, and with a gentle flick, landed a clean two-pointer.
Schemes upon schemes, endless variations.
He Wen wiped his face and pointed at Jiang Yan, unable to get any words out.
Jiang Yan paid no attention to his provocation, spreading his arms and shrugging with complete indifference — wearing an expression that said plainly: I’m your dad, you’re my son.
Undeniably, apart from being arrogant, the school tyrant also looked pretty great in that moment.
Lin Tao’s eardrums were nearly shattered by the screaming girls around her, but her eyes didn’t leave him for a single instant.
The coin pendant tucked inside the young man’s shirt had been jostled loose by all the running and was now bouncing against the front of his red jersey. Jiang Yan must have noticed — he reached up, felt the coin with his fingers and rubbed it, then tugged open his collar and tucked it back in.
Done, he glanced across the crowd toward Lin Tao’s direction — and then, openly and deliberately, tilted his head and winked at her.
Adorable and handsome all at once.
Lin Tao hadn’t even had time to react before an eruption of cries suddenly went off among the crowd around her.
“AAAAHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!”
“Oh my god, I just got a mouthful of sweetness!!!!!!”
“HOLY CRAP!!!!!!!!!”
“He descended from heaven and he is SO sweet!!!!!”
“……”
Please. You’re the ones being dramatic. The school tyrant isn’t half as dramatic as you lot.
Lin Tao could even picture what next week’s forum discussion would look like —
School tyrant flirts in real time — tilted-head wink a lethal weapon
School tyrant and Deskmate Lin spotted together again
Deskmate Lin watches school tyrant’s basketball match with hearts in her eyes
The everyday romance of the school tyrant and Deskmate Lin.
……
It would probably be quite the uproar.
But Lin Tao didn’t have much to care about anymore.
Even though they hadn’t publicly acknowledged their relationship, judging by how things were going, aside from Old Yu — who still steadfastly believed they shared a purely innocent classmate bond — there probably wasn’t many people left in the entire school who still thought Lin Tao and Jiang Yan were clean.
After all, that forum post about the school tyrant’s secret admiration had become the highest-thread post in the history of No. 10 High’s forum.
And even though the two of them had never officially gone public, the forum students were practically amateur detectives — they’d kept posting clues and evidence they’d uncovered in the school tyrant’s thread, and some had even shared moments from the classroom between her and Jiang Yan. Based on in-depth analysis from a few particularly dedicated users, the forum was swimming in sweetness every day.
Some of the fine-detail analyses covered moments Lin Tao herself had already forgotten, yet those brilliant students could analyze an entire batch of sweetness from the two of them based on nothing more than a glance exchanged.
Lin Tao had found herself a few times reading long posts analyzing the origins of her and Jiang Yan’s relationship, and several of the observations were eerily close to actual reality.
She couldn’t help but be impressed.
That was genuinely impressive.
Lin Tao couldn’t help thinking of the couple analysis posts that frequently appeared on a certain review site domestically — if measured against her situation with Jiang Yan, some of those guesses were probably eight or nine parts true.
Maybe she herself had ended up being swept up in the sweetness.
But none of that forum stuff was the real uproar — the court right now was the real uproar.
After losing two baskets in a row, He Wen’s fury meter shot up at a rapid clip. He subbed out Fang Chengliang and went to personally mark Jiang Yan.
Jiang Yan looked at this development without any particular reaction. “You like me that much?”
He Wen ground his back teeth, his voice grinding out like it was being forced through them. “I like your mother.”
“Sorry — my mother doesn’t have that taste.” Jiang Yan never gave ground. “Watch closely. Let me teach you how to play basketball, son.”
“……”
With that, he made the same move as at the very start — switching the ball from right to left. He Wen simultaneously signaled his teammates to watch the left back side where Xu Yichuan was, while preparing to intercept the ball himself.
But Jiang Yan’s hands moved nimbly, switching the ball back to the right. Just when He Wen assumed he was going to pass to Chen Sirun—
He feinted, and with a single move, drove the ball right past He Wen’s side.
He Wen cursed under his breath. “Damn.”
Class Three rushed back to defend, but still couldn’t match Jiang Yan’s running speed — they could only watch as he launched another three-pointer.
Class Eighteen’s cheers nearly rattled the court floor loose.
The third quarter had barely started, and Class Three had already conceded three straight baskets. The prior ten-point gap had swelled to eighteen.
Class Three’s entire team looked quite grim.
Class Eighteen, by contrast, every single person was grinning from ear to ear, showing off rows of bright white teeth — happy as though they’d already won the match.
Jiang Yan ran, his black hair damp with sweat, the tips of his hair blown back by the wind, revealing his full face — every feature as though meticulously carved, not a single flaw to be found.
Sweat dripped from his hair tips and fell onto his eyelids.
He couldn’t care less, just laughed and high-fived his teammates, not forgetting to call out an approving, “Beautiful!”
Class Three’s players were completely provoked. They called a timeout midway through, swapping out the shooting guard and small forward. The two newcomers had imposing, stocky builds and came onto the floor full of menace.
From the stands, Hu Hanghang narrowed his eyes and looked them over, then couldn’t help cursing quietly. “These Class Three people are so shameless — they actually brought in the school team members.”
No. 10 High had a professional school basketball team. Every year they represented the school in provincial and city-level middle school basketball leagues — far more serious than this kind of intramural game. School team members all went through professional selection and assessment, and their skill level and teamwork were considerably better than ordinary students.
Lin Tao saw the substitution too and asked curiously, “Didn’t they say outside players from other classes weren’t allowed?”
“They’re all Class Three students.” Hu Hanghang gripped his water bottle tighter. “Bringing them in doesn’t break the rules. It’s just that school team members never used to get involved in these kinds of small games.”
“After all, there’s a certain gap between the pros and us amateurs,” Wu Wang chimed in. “School team members don’t like getting mixed up in this sort of small-scale competition.”
“Class Three’s people are probably just desperate this time.”
On the court, Jiang Yan and the others had also recognized that the players Class Three had brought in were from the school team.
Song Yuan ran a hand through his dripping-wet hair with a snort of laughter. “Cornered dogs jumping walls?”
“They still have to actually make it over.” Jiang Yan wiped the sweat from his jaw with his wristband. He tilted his head, and the lines running from his jaw to his ear were sharp and clean.
He looked both cool and defiant — providing a fresh round of perfect-angle photos for all the girls in the stands who had been snapping away nonstop.
The two Class Three substitutes, numbers eight and nine, were both main offensive players. Using the chemistry and skill they’d forged in real competition, they quickly closed the gap to eight points.
The atmosphere on the court grew increasingly tense.
Jiang Yan’s earlier tactics were no longer effective. Class Three had switched it up too — basically, whoever got the ball just passed it to number eight or nine. The moment either of those two had the ball, no one except Jiang Yan and Song Yuan could reliably intercept it, and the others had almost no chance of catching up.
After a failed interception attempt, Jiang Yan pulled up beside Xu Yichuan. “Song Yuan and I are both being marked heavily — it’ll be very hard to score again. We need to switch things up.”
“You take point on scoring — drive into the paint.” Jiang Yan caught his breath and pushed back a few strands of loose hair. “Song Yuan and I will go for turnovers. Tell Yu Yifan and Liu Sheng to hold the back line.”
Xu Yichuan’s specialty was driving into the paint. His vertical leap was exceptional, and when he was positioned in the paint, very few people could stop him.
Even Jiang Yan and Song Yuan together could only contain him eight times out of ten — and that was on a good day.
That said, extended jumping put considerable strain on the ankles, so Xu Yichuan rarely played this way in matches — maybe two or three times a game at most.
Under normal circumstances, he was a reliable point guard — responsible for sharp, fast passing that created scoring opportunities for his teammates.
But Jiang Yan was different. Beyond the small forward position, he could play just about anything else. Even during casual practice sessions, he would have them all rotate positions.
That way, no matter what situation arose on the court, they could adjust their strategy on the fly and catch the opposition off guard.
Xu Yichuan quickly relayed Jiang Yan’s instructions to the other two. While running, Jiang Yan pressed down on his knuckles with both hands interlaced.
As he brushed past the opposing small forward, the two of them were perfectly in sync — both shoulders colliding with the other’s at the same time, oozing provocation.
Jiang Yan glanced back at him.
The other player stared back, unintimidated.
Their eyes met in midair, and Lin Tao sitting in the stands could almost see the crackling sparks flying between those two locked gazes.
Someone nearby murmured quietly, “The way Jiang Yan looks right now — if you didn’t know, you’d think the other player had stolen his girlfriend.”
Lin Tao: “……”
The match continued in fierce intensity.
Class Three didn’t know Class Eighteen had switched their attacking target, and still kept the bulk of their defensive attention on Jiang Yan and Song Yuan.
Jiang Yan then lived up to their expectations and got the ball. The opposing team’s number-eight small forward charged over instantly — his tall frame crashing down like a wall.
Jiang Yan didn’t panic at all. His figure flashed past in an instant, and in a back-to-the-basket move, he passed the ball to Xu Yichuan — simultaneously, Song Yuan also sprinted toward Xu Yichuan’s position, making a show of preparing to receive the pass.
“Guard him!” Class Three’s number eight shouted, then went running after them.
Class Three assumed Xu Yichuan was going to pass — but instead, he drove the ball straight in on a fast break. Class Three’s players in the paint couldn’t contain Xu Yichuan at all. He leapt and slammed the ball in off the rim, fingers gripping the edge of the hoop, his body swaying once before landing back on the ground.
“AAAAHHHH—!!!!!!!!”
Hu Hanghang transformed into Xu Yichuan’s biggest fan in that moment, cupping his hands around his mouth like a megaphone and bellowing, “Xu Yichuan! You absolute legend!”
“HOLY CRAP! I LOVE YOU!!!!!”
Then the Class Eighteen boys went off like a signal had been fired, one shout following the last.
One wave called out: “Xu Yichuan!”
The other replied: “Legend!”
The boys in the back row holding up the banner refused to be outdone: “Year Two, Class Eighteen!”
“Literature reigns supreme!”
“Might conquers all!”
“Dominating No. 10 High!”
“……”
The Class Three students on the other side weren’t about to take this lying down. “Class Three! Let’s go!!!!!!”
Not a shred of originality. Not a shred of fighting spirit.
Utterly powerless.
Though it wasn’t really their fault.
Homeroom teachers like Old Yu, after all, come along maybe once in a century — running into one is the good fortune of eight lifetimes.
The cheering on the court continued nonstop.
Jiang Yan raised his hand and made a quiet-down gesture.
Class Eighteen immediately complied — the synchronization was almost telepathic.
The back half of the third quarter saw Class Eighteen, on the strength of Xu Yichuan’s paint-area dunks and the team’s well-oiled teamwork, successfully holding the point gap at eight by the time the buzzer sounded.
At halftime, both teams’ players came off the court to rest.
Lin Tao handed a bottle of water to Jiang Yan as he stood in front of her. “Don’t you want to sit for a moment?”
“No — I’m covered in sweat.” Jiang Yan took the water, twisted it open, tilted his head back, and took a long gulp. His throat bobbed quickly as he swallowed, and a few drops of water overflowed and slid slowly down along the line of his neck.
It was already close to evening, and the temperature had dropped. Wind blew in from all sides.
Lin Tao saw his face was covered in sweat. She rummaged through her bag, pulled out a pack of wet wipes, tore it open, and looked up at him. “Lower your head.”
“Hmm?” Jiang Yan said nothing and obediently lowered his head.
Lin Tao pinched a wet wipe and dabbed at his forehead and the tip of his nose, not noticing at all that the crowd around them had gone suddenly quiet.
Jiang Yan didn’t say anything to alert her. It was only when the corner of his eye caught someone raising their phone to take a photo that he said, unhurriedly, “Girlfriend — don’t you think this is a little too obvious?”
His voice was pitched very low, just audible enough for Lin Tao to hear.
“……”
Lin Tao froze, hand still in position over his face, caught between withdrawing it and leaving it there.
She looked at Jiang Yan, her back molars clenching, squeezing out from between her teeth, “Did you do that on purpose?”
Jiang Yan had his elbows propped on his knees, and upon hearing this he quickly lowered his head with a small laugh, then poked a finger at the bone below his eye before slipping the wet wipe out of her hand. “Don’t accuse me wrongly.”
“You were the one who told me to lower my head.”
“……”
The middle-aged cheering squad who had come to watch and hadn’t left yet were standing diagonally behind the crowd. Following the gazes of those around them, they looked over.
Their companion Lao Yang said, “Old Yu — looks like something’s going on with your class?”
Old Yu wore his signature air of complete certainty. “No, nothing’s going on. Whatever might be going on for anyone else, those two absolutely have nothing going on.”
“……”
Lin Tao and Jiang Yan also noticed Old Yu and his two companions’ figures — and the gazes full of all kinds of thoughts they were sending over.
Quiet murmurs began rippling through the crowd.
Hu Hanghang, sitting nearby, also found a wet wipe and beckoned toward Song Yuan, who was standing in front of him. “Come here, Yuan-yuan — lower your head, big brother will wipe your sweat.”
Song Yuan caught the signal and obediently bowed his head.
The other teammates caught on with perfect timing and each grabbed a wet wipe to wipe the sweat off the players standing in front of them. The whole scene looked warm and harmonious.
But Old Yu, who had been watching without much worry just moments ago, now found himself genuinely a little concerned.
These kids weren’t all going to be influenced by Jiang Yan and lose interest in girls, were they?
Having never seen this kind of scene before, Old Yu felt a bit out of touch — his thoughts were in a state of some confusion.
It seemed that after the match ended, he was really going to have a proper chat with Jiang Yan.
For the final quarter, Xu Yichuan sat out and Hu Hanghang replaced him.
Hu Hanghang didn’t have Xu Yichuan’s ridiculous vertical leap, but what he lacked in that department he made up for in agility and unpredictability — his passing patterns were bizarre and varied.
Jiang Yan reverted to the same approach as the very beginning of the match. He and Song Yuan took point on offense, while the other three focused on turnovers and back-defense.
This was the last quarter, and Class Eighteen played with complete abandon — their mental composure clearly outclassing Class Three’s.
He Wen did the same thing as before — sticking to Jiang Yan from the opening whistle.
Jiang Yan had no patience to waste on him, so he didn’t exchange words — whenever they crossed, he just drove the ball past. He was fast, and more often than not, by the time He Wen caught on, either Jiang Yan was already gone, or the ball in his hands was already airborne.
Song Yuan had grown up playing with Jiang Yan since they were young, and their understanding of each other was deep. The moment he caught the ball, he ran straight at the opposing paint. If he couldn’t get there, he’d press the ball to the line. When there was no option left at all, he’d pass to Liu Sheng or Yu Yifan — and sometimes that would be intercepted by Class Three’s center and small forward.
But more often than not, by that point Jiang Yan and Hu Hanghang had already set themselves in the defensive line.
Class Three was down eight points from Class Eighteen. Their approach now was: score if possible, and if not — then neither are you.
They had trapped Class Three completely in a deadlock.
He Wen had been nursing a smoldering fury from the very start, and with this match running so much under the pressure of the opposing team, the fire in him had gone from burning embers to a full conflagration.
In one failed attempt to intercept Jiang Yan’s ball, he wheeled around, flung his arm behind him, and grabbed hold of the cord around Jiang Yan’s neck.
He tugged hard, deliberately.
Jiang Yan was caught off guard and stumbled backward. The ball nearly fell from his hands. The black cord, unable to take the strain, snapped clean apart.
He Wen pulled the necklace out from the break and looked at the coin hanging at the bottom. He gave a mocking laugh. “Wouldn’t have guessed it — you like wearing this kind of thing?”
Jiang Yan steadied himself, turned around, hurled the ball down hard at He Wen’s feet, snatched the necklace back out of his hand, and — suppressing the urge to punch him — cursed, “Are you out of your mind?”
The others quickly crowded around. Lin Tao, down in the stands, along with the substitute players, shot to their feet.
On the court, the referee blew his whistle and jogged over. “What’s going on?”
Both classes’ homeroom teachers were on the premises. They had just started to head over when the two teams, who had been bunching together, quickly spread back apart.
Before they separated, Jiang Yan stepped forward and grabbed He Wen, while Song Yuan and Hu Hanghang stepped to block the referee’s line of sight. Jiang Yan swung his elbow hard into He Wen’s chest.
He Wen let out a muffled grunt. Before he could say anything, Jiang Yan suddenly stepped back, and in one smooth move, took He Wen’s hand. The corner of his mouth curved upward — but the smile didn’t reach his eyes.
He swung their arms casually, his meaning unmistakable. “Play properly.”
To the referee, it looked exactly as though the two had made peace and shaken hands. The referee blew his whistle and stepped back, signaling the match to continue.
Lin Tao and the others sat back down.
Jiang Yan unclipped the wristband from his hand, bundling it together with the necklace, and sent them down to the sideline.
“Are you okay?” Lin Tao looked at him.
Jiang Yan smiled. “Fine.”
He quickly returned to the court, his frame long and upright. The edge of his red jersey billowed in the wind.
The match continued.
This time.
Jiang Yan became Class Eighteen’s sole attacker. The other four players: the moment any of them got the ball, they passed it to him. Class Three’s small forward and point guard stuck to him relentlessly, looking for openings to intercept.
Five minutes left before the end of the match.
Jiang Yan gave them no more chances to touch the ball. Practically the entire game saw him as the only one continuously getting the ball and shooting, racking up points.
Thirty seconds remaining.
Class Eighteen launched one final fast break. Song Yuan drove the ball into the opposing zone. The Class Three point guard was blocking the way in front of him. Song Yuan gave a small smile and passed the ball to Jiang Yan from below the right.
Jiang Yan caught it and drove straight at the paint.
Three Class Three players were already there waiting, two of them standing directly in front of Jiang Yan, trying to block him.
Jiang Yan showed no reaction. Using the momentum of his sprint, he jumped from the spot — over the heads of two opposing players — and threw down a one-handed slam dunk.
The orange ball dropped cleanly into the net.
The whistle sounded.
The match officially ended.
“AAAHHHHHHHHHH—!!!!!!!!”
The entire crowd erupted in a rising wave of cheers.
Hu Hanghang sprinted to the sideline and asked the boys in Class Eighteen to throw the banner over. He grabbed it and ran two laps around the court with Liu Sheng, each holding one end.
Finally, they stopped directly in front of Class Three’s rest area.
Jiang Yan stood below the banner. He looked up and saw He Wen’s dark expression, then slowly raised his arm and folded down his ring finger and little finger — the index and middle finger pressed together, thumb raised, fingertip aimed at He Wen’s head.
Then, as though holding a gun, he squeezed the trigger — the index and middle fingers lifting slightly.
“Bang—!”
That single gesture from Jiang Yan, laden with provocation, was the spark that fully ignited the ball of rage He Wen had been holding inside him.
He shoved aside the students crowding in front of him and launched himself like a cannonball straight at Jiang Yan.
Before most of the crowd could even react, the figure that had just shot forward was sent right back the way it came by Jiang Yan’s fist — collapsing to the ground.
He Wen’s movement had been fast, but Jiang Yan was faster. The moment He Wen balled up his fist and charged in, Jiang Yan had already read what his next move would be.
He returned the punch cleanly and effortlessly.
Jiang Yan had put full force into the punch. When He Wen hit the ground, blood appeared at the corner of his mouth, and the area quickly swelled.
He had two reasons for hitting this hard: first, to settle the score for the beating he’d taken out of nowhere back then; second, to punish He Wen for the dirty tricks he’d played during the match.
Jiang Yan was open and uncompromising by nature. He believed in an honest and mutual back-and-forth. What he despised most was this kind of person who stabbed you in the back with underhanded schemes.
He shook out his wrist, looked down at He Wen from above, and said in a low, flat voice, “Don’t assume everyone else is as thick-headed as you.”
He Wen was furious but said nothing. Class Three’s players quickly closed in. Class Eighteen’s people pushed back just as readily — two classes shoving at each other.
The match was over, and Old Yu and the others had gone with the referee and Class Three’s homeroom teacher to the sidelines. Right now the court had only students, and the atmosphere was like a sword with the cap pulled off.
With a full-scale brawl on the verge of erupting, Jiang Yan extended his arm and held Class Eighteen’s players back. “Hu Hanghang — tell everyone to stand down. Let’s go.”
“Yan-bro……” Hu Hanghang, still holding the flag pole, looked at him in confusion.
A fight was seconds away from breaking out — how could they leave? At the very minimum, they had to maintain their dignity here!
Jiang Yan knew what he was thinking, and lowered his head, rubbing his wrist. “Personal grudge — don’t drag the class into it. Take everyone back.”
Xu Yichuan also spoke up. “Alright, alright — everyone head back.”
Not a single Class Eighteen student moved. While they didn’t interact with Jiang Yan much on a daily basis, they were still classmates who’d shared the same school for this long. And on top of that, Jiang Yan had just led them to win a match — no matter what, they couldn’t leave him at a time like this.
Someone shouted, “We’re not going anywhere — real men don’t leave today!”
Jiang Yan looked at the boy who had spoken, then swept his eyes over the Class Eighteen students who were all itching to stay. He pushed his tongue against the inside of his cheek and said with deliberate calm, “Everyone, head back. I don’t want another charge of ‘ringleader in a group brawl’ added to my file at Blackie’s.”
If the school tyrant was saying this much himself, no one else could very well stay behind. People exchanged glances, and slowly began to disperse.
Hu Hanghang, Xu Yichuan, and Song Yuan stayed on the court.
Standing in the stands, Lin Tao watched Jiang Yan turn back and say something to those three, after which all three of them stepped off the court too.
“What happened with Jiang Yan and them?” Lin Tao caught Hu Hanghang and asked.
Hu Hanghang blinked his big eyes rapidly. “Nothing. Yan-bro just wanted to have a little exchange of feelings with them.”
“……” Lin Tao looked at him expressionlessly. “Which of us is missing a few brain cells — you, or do you think I’m like you, missing a few myself?”
Hu Hanghang raised his hand emphatically. “I’ll go with option two.”
Everyone: “……”
Lin Tao could only laugh through her exasperation.
Song Yuan stepped in to explain. “Don’t worry. Jiang Yan knows what he’s doing — he won’t let himself come out on the losing end.”
“That’s not what I’m worried about.” Lin Tao looked at the court with a serious expression. “I’m worried about the casualty count on the other side.”
“……”
On the court.
He Wen looked at Jiang Yan standing there alone and spat out a mouthful of bloody saliva to the side. “What are you doing? Trying to play the lone hero?”
“Personal grudge — no one else needs to be dragged in.” Jiang Yan gave a meaningless smile. “I’ve never said anything twice — but you’re an exception, because you’re a disabled man, and I have to make allowances for that.”
“You—!” He Wen raised his fist to swing.
Jiang Yan didn’t move. The fist stopped a centimeter in front of his eyes. He extended one finger and pushed He Wen’s hand aside, saying flatly, “Honestly, this is pointless.”
“No matter how many times this plays out, Guan Che is still going to reject your little sister, and you will always be someone I can beat with one hand tied behind my back.”
There’s no one who could take that.
He Wen certainly couldn’t. He threw another punch — and this time didn’t stop, the fist coming down fast.
Jiang Yan ground his teeth, reached up to control the motion, and stared back with sharp eyes, his tone losing any trace of patience. “Don’t raise your fist at me. Otherwise you won’t even know how you died.”
With that, Jiang Yan pushed hard. He Wen staggered back several steps without catching his footing, and only steadied himself when someone behind him reached out to grab him.
A few boys closed in.
Jiang Yan touched a finger to his brow and looked around at everyone, his gaze finally settling on He Wen. “If you really want to fight, don’t do it here in front of everyone, and not on school grounds. Let’s pick a place and settle it properly.”
“I won’t bring anyone. Bring as many people as you want. We fight until one of us gives in.”
Jiang Yan genuinely didn’t want to get into a brawl with this many people watching. That punch he’d just thrown at He Wen had been a warning not to push his luck too far.
He Wen likely also knew he had nothing to gain from Jiang Yan here, and didn’t want to keep losing face in front of so many people. He accepted Jiang Yan’s proposal. “Fine — this Sunday then.”
“Works for me.” Jiang Yan said. “Location.”
“The usual place.”
The “usual place” He Wen referred to was an old, abandoned vocational high school campus. Years ago, a developer had demolished half of it and then disappeared, leaving the remaining half of the development with no one to pick up the project. It fell outside the urban-rural planning zone, so it had sat empty and unmanaged all these years.
Back in their middle school days, whenever they needed to settle things with a brawl, they always used that place. Even when Guan Che had been beaten — it was in that same spot that Jiang Yan had come to repay the debt on his behalf.
If the feud had started there, it made sense for it to end there.
Jiang Yan had no objections. “Fine.”
He Wen said nothing more and led the Class Three players off the court.
Jiang Yan also returned to Class Eighteen’s rest area.
Xu Yichuan and the others crowded around him, all talking at once.
“What happened, what happened?”
“What did you two say?”
“Did that idiot pull something again?”
Jiang Yan sat down in the empty spot beside Lin Tao, bent forward, reached for a bottle of water, and twisted it open. He looked at the three of them with their anxious expressions and said nothing.
It was Lin Tao beside him who couldn’t help asking, “What did you two say?”
Jiang Yan closed the water bottle and put it back within reach. His eyes dropped slightly. “Nothing much. We just traded a few insults. He couldn’t take it and left.”
Lin Tao couldn’t hold back the jab. “You’re in Year Two of high school, not Year Two of primary school. You’re grown adults — are you really copying little kids and having a trash-talk battle?”
“Said a few things in passing.” Jiang Yan smiled. “And that’s the end of it.”
“How else was it going to end?” Lin Tao looked at him. “Given how you talk, it’s no wonder He Wen wanted to come at you just now.”
“……”
Class Eighteen had won the match, and Old Yu swept his pen across the page and cancelled three evening study sessions for them. The whole group went out to celebrate.
Old Yu came along too, but he had plans in the evening and only stayed in the private room for over ten minutes, had a glass of juice, and left.
The moment he was gone, the atmosphere — which had been slightly restrained — immediately became boisterous. Several boys moved armloads of beer from the corner of the room. “Come on — tonight we don’t leave until we’re drunk!”
The three round tables in the private room were rearranged into a long table. The table was loaded with all kinds of food, and bottle caps went flying.
For Class Eighteen’s boys, aside from sharing a classroom with Jiang Yan, this was the first time they’d sat together with him anywhere outside school.
They had been somewhat inhibited at first by the school tyrant’s aura, but with a bottle of beer down, the alcohol hit the brain like a reset button — inhibition dissolved, and one after another they raised their glasses in toast to Jiang Yan.
It was also the first time Jiang Yan had sat down to eat with classmates from his class. He accepted every toast without exception.
The few bottles set in front of him emptied quickly.
The mood was electric.
Lin Tao sat pressed against his arm beside him, and could clearly feel his body temperature climbing. She reached under the table and hooked her fingers through his.
When he tilted his head to look at her, she said quietly, “Drink less.”
The private room was brightly lit. He’d just had some alcohol, and his fair cheeks were faintly flushed. His amber eyes looked as though they held a pool of water — iridescent, like glass.
Jiang Yan’s tolerance was actually decent, but it couldn’t hold up against this pace of non-stop toasting. His head was a bit fuzzy, and he hadn’t quite caught what Lin Tao said.
He slowly leaned his head down, closer to her ear. “What did you say? Hmm?”
The young man’s breath was warm against her, each word clearly articulated. Lin Tao’s ear went hot and she shifted slightly to the side. “I said, drink less.”
She stiffened, turned her head, and met his eyes. Her heartbeat went a little unsteady. “Are you drunk?”
Jiang Yan shook his head a little. He pinched at his temples with his fingertips, his voice soaked in alcohol, low and slightly husky. “Not drunk — just went at it a bit fast, head’s a little foggy.”
“Drink some water.” Some lemon water from earlier had been brought to the table. Lin Tao poured a cup and handed it to him.
Jiang Yan took it and had a sip. The plain water, with its faint sourness from the two slices of lemon, made his brow furrow almost imperceptibly.
“Is it sour? There are only two slices of lemon in there.” Lin Tao looked at him, then realized something. “Oh — you don’t handle sour things well, do you?”
There had been that time at the internet café eating pineapple — it hadn’t been particularly sour, and yet he’d still wrinkled his brow.
Jiang Yan set down the half-drunk cup and rubbed at the bridge of his nose with a fingertip. “Hmm. Can’t eat them, don’t like them.”
“Then what else don’t you like eating?” Lin Tao only then realized that after all this time together, she’d never really learned her boyfriend’s food preferences.
Jiang Yan leaned back in his chair, his wrist resting on the table, fingertips rubbing along the side of the cup. He dropped his eyes and thought for a moment. “Quite a lot of things, actually. I’m fairly picky.”
She found something she could lecture him on, and said with great sincerity, “Classmate Jiang — being a picky eater is not a good habit.”
Jiang Yan smiled, reached under the table to take her hand, leaned in closer, and lowered his voice into something that sounded almost like a whisper in her ear. “I’m not picky about you.”
“……” Lin Tao looked at him. “I’m not something to eat.”
“Hmm. You’re not something to eat.” Jiang Yan pinched her fingertips and said quietly, “But you are sweet.”