Chapter 1: A Tall Boy Who Can't Play Basketball?

A young boy walked past the basketball court, carrying his backpack. His hair was cropped short, his head lowered, eyes fixed on the shadow cast beneath him by the sunlight. Today’s homework had been troublesome, but as one of the top ten academic stars of Class 13, he had managed it smoothly. The monthly exam results had been released too: thirty-sixth in the grade, seventh in his class. Not bad; his spot among the top ten was secure. The only thing that irked him was his Chinese score—125. He wasn’t satisfied.

Our protagonist is Ming Han, a student in Class 13, Grade 8, at Jinhua Middle School. He is an academic powerhouse, with little interest in anything aside from reading. Of course, after class, watching the senior girls and younger students pass by in the corridor was his only source of entertainment.

Standing at 181 centimeters tall, he towered above his peers—a “crane among chickens” at his age. But his height was solely a matter of genetics. He disliked sports and was a true homebody.

Passing by the basketball court now, he heard the shouts and cheers as many ran and played.

“Pass it… pass it!”

“Shoot, hurry up!”

He didn’t pause. Basketball held no appeal for him, despite the frequent comments: “With your height, you’d have a real advantage!” Ming Han never understood the logic. If he was tall, must he play basketball? If he were more handsome, should he become a duckling?

At that moment, a chubby boy ran over, panting. “Hey, we’re short one player—want to join us?”

Ming Han felt a touch awkward. He rubbed his head and laughed, “I don’t know how to play basketball!”

The chubby boy stared at Ming Han, as if a Japanese officer eyeing a flower girl. “Impossible! With your height, you must play!”

Ming Han smiled awkwardly and walked on. In his heart, he wondered: Is basketball really so charming? This chubby boy struggles just to run, yet he’s always here playing.

The sky was already growing dark. Ming Han didn’t linger; he only hoped to get home quickly, read for a while, and prepare for next week’s math competition.

At least at this moment, basketball and Ming Han had nothing to do with each other.

The next morning, Ming Han rose early and came to school. At the gates, he saw a crowd gathered around the bulletin board: Notice for Registration for the Seventh Jinhua Middle School Sports Festival!

For someone like Ming Han, who never exercised, the sports festival only meant another week to work on problems. He had no interest in lingering and hurried to the classroom. Arriving, he noticed many people around Yu Hang.

Yu Hang, the sports monitor of Class 13, was Ming Han’s best friend, though their interests diverged. Ming Han liked reading and listening to music; Yu Hang preferred basketball and Japanese films.

Yu Hang, however, knew all sixteen classes’ beauties by name and academic prowess. Ming Han often became his loyal audience.

Through time, they had grown close.

Every boy in adolescence harbors feelings for a girl. Ming Han’s goddess was his classmate, Zhang Xiaozhen, ranked fourth in the boys’ class beauty list.

Seeing Ming Han approach, Yu Hang complained, “The sports festival is coming—I’ll be busy again. And this time, there’s a basketball tournament between the classes. I need to assemble a team.”

Ming Han knew their homeroom teacher was obsessed with reputation. Whether in academics or honors, she always demanded her class lead. He remembered last year’s singing contest. Other classes sang the latest hits; theirs performed “We Are the Successors of Socialism.” According to the teacher, such songs had an advantage.

They ended up winning second place. Ever since, their classmates shared a nickname: “Successors of Socialism.”

Ming Han shrugged. “You shoulder the teacher’s hopes and dreams for the sports festival.”

Yu Hang laughed. “My biggest headache now is the basketball team. Our class is generally short; we’re really lacking a center. Zheng Yuan can start, but I can’t find a substitute.”

Ming Han didn’t even understand what a center did in basketball, so he just patted Yu Hang’s shoulder.

Yu Hang continued, “Ming Han, if only you played basketball. Then I’d have a sixty percent chance of winning the eighth-grade championship.”

Ming Han grinned. “Am I really that important?”

Yu Hang sighed. “Last year, we got crushed on rebounds by Class 7. We had a four percent higher shooting rate, but at the critical moment, they grabbed the offensive rebound and killed the game.”

Listening to Yu Hang, Ming Han felt a wave of emotion. Yu Hang’s skills were renowned throughout the grade, and many wanted to play on his team. Yet, for various reasons, last year they couldn’t even reach the semifinals.

At that moment, Zhang Xiaozhen, who had overheard their conversation, walked over and said, “Guys who play basketball are so handsome.”

Yu Hang, the only one who knew Ming Han’s secret feelings, made faces at him.

Ming Han spread his hands. “You all know I’m an academic star. I only care about books. And honestly, basketball is so simple—it’s hardly a challenge for me.”

Little Yu, who had been reading a novel in the corner, stood up, scoffing. “Height doesn’t mean you’re good at basketball. Don’t talk big before you’ve even played. Basketball takes intelligence, talent… a lot more.”

Ming Han felt embarrassed and unsure how to respond. He had only meant to joke, but clearly had hurt the basketball enthusiast’s feelings.

“I think Ming Han has talent!” Yu Hang said.

“Hmph! I don’t see it. Usually, when someone’s brain is developed, their limbs are simple.”

Ming Han thought, Bro, you’re insulting yourself—strong limbs, simple mind!

Yu Hang went on, “Let’s make a bet! Two weeks from now, you two go one-on-one, ten shots. Loser calls the winner 'Dad'!”

Little Yu was stunned. “Am I about to become a father at my age?”

Ming Han felt a wave of frustration. Yu Hang, you scoundrel—we’ve watched Japanese films together, and now you’re setting me up like this.

Zhang Xiaozhen clapped her hands excitedly. “Great! I’ll be the referee.”

Seeing Zhang Xiaozhen so happy, Ming Han was bewildered, muttering, “Okay! I accept!”