Chapter 101: Double Explosion

Jin Hua Middle School side!

Yu Hang glanced at the Overseas Chinese side with unease. “Although we control the rhythm, for some reason I always feel like there might be changes.”

Strong Brother nodded. “For a player who’s already dropped twenty-one points in three quarters, you never know what crazy things he might pull off at the end.”

Defending the shooter is hard. As long as open shots aren’t given, the percentage is definitely affected. But sometimes a shooter can be the most despairing thing of all—you never know when he’ll explode, and when he does, his explosion can be so terrifyingly destructive to your team.

The Black commentator’s face grew grave. “That kid Qiu Zhicheng once put up a terrifying 16.8-second scoring spree in the grade tournament, single-handedly leading a comeback. The video of it on the forum has pulled in a ton of views.”

Yes! Jin Hua Middle School had finally realized how terrifying Qiu Zhicheng was. But that didn’t mean they could successfully shut him down.

The last quarter began.

After Strong Brother’s strong drive fell short, Lin Zengkun raced down the court on a straight-line break and fed Qiu Zhicheng again outside the three-point arc.

Qiu Zhicheng faked the shot, drawing Ming Han in, then took one step inside and launched a jumper that swished through the net.

His offensive repertoire was basic—those few tricks, nothing fancy. But you couldn’t fully contain him. That was the mark of a true elite shooter.

Jin Hua Middle School wasn’t about to sit idle either. Their starting five each possessed distinct technical strengths. Ming Han had shot poorly today—9 for 2—but he had still dished out five assists and two blocks.

The male commentator remarked, “It looks like Jin Hua has a commanding lead, but no one can be certain that the player who already has twenty-three points won’t single-handedly turn the game around.”

As Lin Wei drained a transition bucket, Ming Han could feel the deflation radiating from the Overseas Chinese students.

Qiu Zhicheng didn’t offer the same verbal encouragement Lin Zengkun had given his teammates. He simply slipped free after a screen, accelerated, and let fly from deep.

Half a meter behind the arc.

Though he had already made five of eleven threes this season, this attempt felt overly confident.

Swish!

The ball dropped.

It nearly ignited the entire arena. Many Overseas Chinese students erupted in cheers.

At that moment, hope surged through the crowd—surely, with him on the floor, the game was bound to turn.

Lin Zengkun roared softly, “Good job!”

Watching the fire reignite in the eyes of the Overseas Chinese players, Ming Han knew the real collision was about to begin.

Next play:

Strong Brother caught the ball in the low post, faked the opposing center, and rose for a dunk. At least two players had rotated in; they leaped high…

The whistle blew for a foul.

Seeing the play unfold, Qiu Zhicheng nodded approvingly. “Even if it’s a foul, don’t let them finish it in the movement.”

Strong Brother made one of two free throws.

The Overseas Chinese center snatched the rebound and tossed it to Zengkun.

Zengkun continued to run the offense with Qiu Zhicheng, and after a series of quick passes he found another opportunity. Three-pointer—swish again!

The score was razor-close, and the game still looked far from decided.

The Black commentator called timeout.

“Switch Lin Shan over to guard Qiu Zhicheng. From now on you two have to stick together—he won’t be able to connect easily.”

Lin Shan nodded.

The commentator turned to Ming Han. “Their No. 4 is their weakness. Don’t disappear on us for the whole game, Ming Han!”

Indeed. Ming Han had been quiet all night; he had wasted several excellent looks. All year he had trained harder than anyone, yet he was delivering a subpar performance.

Strong Brother patted his shoulder. “Bro, the guy who slaughtered an entire class by himself is you. You motherfucker—you really tamed me.”

Ming Han admitted it: after an unsteady start, his shots had grown hesitant, accuracy slipping away.

If a player loses all confidence in his shooting, he has no business standing on the court.

“You’re our ninth-grade MVP!” Yu Hang’s words strengthened his resolve.

Lin Shan immediately pressed Qiu Zhicheng. He was glued to him like chewing gum, and his height advantage made the pursuit look like an eagle snatching a chick. Qiu Zhicheng’s teammates could only curse silently in their hearts: beast.

No receiving lanes. None.

Ming Han received the ball, settled his pivot foot, spun away from the defender, and threw down a thunderous layup that went through.

The commentator exclaimed, “Is he going off? Xiao Ying, do you think Ming Han plays differently from most players? No matter the outcome, there’s always this beauty in his game.”

Xiao Ying nodded vigorously. “Yes! I’ve studied his style closely and noticed it. I suspect it’s because this handsome younger brother is just built different!”

The entire arena gave a collective forehead-slap. What kind of reasoning was that? Someone please swap out this fangirl commentator. This was a serious basketball game, not a runway show.

After that play, Ming Han’s rhythm didn’t slow.

Next play: crossover, back-to-the-basket breakthrough, then a pull-up that mirrored the exact moment Michael Jordan hit the game-winner in the finals.

Swish!

Two straight buckets. Was Ming Han’s moment finally here?

Lin Zengkun shook his head helplessly. Jin Hua’s depth this year was terrifying—someone always stepped up at the right time.

Overseas Chinese’s talent wasn’t negligible either; they sat fifth in the team rankings. But the odds still looked grim.

If Ming Han’s moment ended here, it would have been acceptable. But it wasn’t going to.

One minute left. Ming Han used Yu Hang as a screen-and-roll and exploded toward the mid-range.

Everyone braced for a pull-up jumper; Ming Han had already set his feet.

Instead he kept passing—just like when Jordan returned to face the Knicks: last-second opportunity to win it himself, yet he fed his dominant big man.

Strong Brother was wide open under the rim and slammed home a bank shot. The game was dead.

That was Ming Han—scorching hot and unstoppable in appearance, yet still reading his teammates’ positions.

“The reason Ming Han is so beloved is that his passes are maddeningly unpredictable. You’ll watch the game and think, Wow, he’s feeding at this exact second. That’s what sets him apart from most playmakers.” The commentator delivered his final verdict.

Many spectators had seen clips of Ming Han online; they all nodded in agreement.

The game ended.

Jin Hua Middle School advanced to the quarterfinals.

It hadn’t featured a dramatic buzzer-beater, but the contest had still been anything but easy. Lin Zengkun’s playmaking and Qiu Zhicheng’s threes had nearly stolen the win.

The two teams hugged and offered mutual respect.

When Lin Zengkun greeted Ming Han, he said, “I have a feeling you’re going to have a fireworks opening against Long Hua.”

Long Hua Middle School?

Fan Zenghui…