Chapter 61: A Single-Quarter Outburst

To be honest, Wu Jianhao was feeling quite frustrated. He had finally managed to break out for a quarter, only to be shut down by that stoic defender. There was a reason why Wang Chaoyang had always held onto the starting spot for Class Thirteen: his shooting was reliable, he made excellent use of his teammates’ screens, and he was diligent on defense. Of course, he had his shortcomings—his ability to create offense off the dribble was mediocre, almost nonexistent, which meant his ceiling would never be particularly high.

The two sides battled through to the end of the third quarter, with the score difference never exceeding five points. Ming Han continued to shine, already racking up sixteen points and eight rebounds. In the stands, Huang Ying snapped a distant photo of Ming Han and sent it to the girl saved in her phone as “Lili.” “He’s doing great—better than ever before!”

Although Wu Jianhao from Class Seven wasn’t as explosive as before, they still had Qiang-ge, their secret weapon. Thanks to him, Class Seven managed to maintain a solid rhythm.

At the end of the third quarter, both teams returned to their benches. Qiang-ge gathered his team to lay out the strategy for the final quarter. He believed shutting down Yuhang was crucial, and that it might be wise to let Ming Han have more isolation plays; after all, Ming Han hadn’t been playing long and his shooting touch wasn’t always steady.

Ming Han had shot seven-of-fifteen through three quarters—a good sign of his current form!

“Aren’t you afraid Ming Han will shoot us out of the game?” someone asked, puzzled.

Qiang-ge chuckled. “I’m more worried about Ming Han beating us with his passing. I know what he can score. He’s the kind of player who racks up points steadily, one possession at a time. He’s not the type to take over a game in a flash when he’s hot.”

Indeed, although Ming Han had improved significantly, he hadn’t yet developed the all-around offensive arsenal to score at will. But Yuhang had! Qiang-ge remembered all too well—back in seventh grade, Yuhang had dropped fifteen points in a single quarter against their class, single-handedly taking on the then-mighty Class Seven. Class Thirteen had been an underdog, and Yuhang almost drove them to collapse.

Fifteen points in a quarter! Still the record for their middle school.

On Class Thirteen’s bench, the mood was relaxed. If last year’s game against Class Seven had been about proving themselves, this year, their only goal was to play their best.

“Defensive assignments stay the same—keep a close eye on Qiang-ge!”

No matter which class was facing Class Seven, the emphasis was always: watch out for Qiang-ge. Some said he was the most skilled center in the history of Jinhua Middle School.

Ming Han still remembered vividly—in the second quarter, Qiang-ge had faced Zheng Yuan in the paint, faked a shot with a shoulder shimmy, drew Zheng Yuan into the air, then spun for an easy layup. It was a textbook “dream shake.” Ming Han knew that anyone who could pull off such beautiful footwork in a real game must have mastered the craft of post play.

Guarding a player like Qiang-ge was truly a tall order for Zheng Yuan.

What Ming Han didn’t know was that in the next quarter, he would deliver the most electrifying single-quarter performance in Jinhua Middle School’s history—completely out of the blue.

Everyone knew Ming Han was second-in-command in Class Thirteen, but during games, he was rarely allowed to monopolize the ball for long. Instead, the coaches focused on developing his passing and shooting skills.

At the start of the fourth quarter, Yuhang grabbed a rebound and immediately launched a fast break. Ming Han was close by on the left, lurking at midrange. Yuhang, surrounded by two defenders, managed to get the ball to him, and Ming Han hit his first shot of the quarter.

No one thought much of it—it was an open look, after all, nothing surprising. Qiang-ge, though, scolded his teammates for retreating too hastily and leaving the shooter unmarked.

A minute later, Ming Han snatched a rebound himself and started a fast break. Wu Jianhao stood in his way. Knowing Ming Han’s style, Qiang-ge called out, “Cut off his passing lanes!” Ming Han almost laughed to himself—You really do know me! But this time, I’m taking it myself! He powered through Wu Jianhao for the layup, drawing a foul in the process.

Now Class Seven was getting restless. Ming Han had just put up five straight points—a heavy blow.

With six minutes left in the final quarter, Ming Han once again dribbled coast-to-coast, this time facing Qiang-ge. He rose up from the free throw line for a jumper—swish!

Three-for-three, seven points in the quarter already. Class Seven was left reeling.

Qiang-ge immediately called a timeout.

“What now? Do we keep guarding Ming Han one-on-one?” Wu Jianhao asked for advice.

Qiang-ge was at a loss. If he guarded Ming Han himself, he’d be forced out of the paint, leaving his team vulnerable on the boards.

“Ming Han or Yuhang?” Qiang-ge weighed his options. But then he remembered Yuhang’s sixteen-point quarter last year—the stuff of nightmares. He closed his eyes and decided, “Stick with Yuhang. Guard Ming Han closely, but I don’t believe he can take us apart single-handedly.”

Yet, Qiang-ge felt uneasy. He’d rarely seen Ming Han play with such ruthless intensity.

Back on the court, Class Seven tried to steady the game with a solid possession.

Qiang-ge tried to post up against Zheng Yuan, but at the last moment, Ming Han came over to help, disrupting the shot.

Yuhang pushed the ball up the court. Ming Han darted through two screens, caught the ball, and let it fly.

As the ball arced through the air, everyone in Class Seven silently prayed for a miss.

But their hopes were crushed—Ming Han was unstoppable now.

Nine points in the quarter!

The entire gym erupted in cheers, with chants of MVP rippling through the crowd. Ming Han’s performance was simply breathtaking—it had been ages since anyone had witnessed such a display of individual heroics. Class Thirteen had taken the lead.

Qiang-ge was growing anxious. With less than five minutes left, if this continued, they’d miss the finals for the second year in a row—an unthinkable outcome.

Qiang-ge started attacking from the low post, but Class Thirteen’s defense was tight. He kicked it out to Wu Jianhao, who, cold from lack of touches, missed the shot.

Ming Han brought the ball up—this was the privilege of a player on fire.

He backed down Class Seven’s power forward, then suddenly spun left for a jumper. The shot missed.

Everyone from Class Seven breathed a sigh of relief, but Ming Han crashed the boards, soared in for the rebound, and tipped it in.

Class Seven’s players felt their hearts sink—Ming Han was only getting more fired up as the game wore on.

Qiang-ge was dumbfounded. Shut down Yuhang, only for another monster to emerge? Why was their class always up against such incredible opponents?

...

In the next few minutes, Qiang-ge felt like never playing basketball again. Everything had been neck and neck before—a two-pointer here, a three-pointer there, both sides showing respect. But suddenly, an explosion—just like that!

He glanced at the stat sheet: Ming Han, thirty-six points!

Twenty in a single quarter.

This guy, once a rookie, had set a new school record.

Qiang-ge suddenly wished he could just go home and sleep.

Class Thirteen defeated Class Seven for the second year in a row, returning to the finals once again. But this year, they wouldn’t be satisfied just to make it—they had their eyes set on a greater goal: the championship.