Everyone's been reborn, so who would bother finding a wife on their own?

Chapter 135 Basketball Game

Monday, another day when I don't want to go to school.

The moment Zhao Qihang saw Xiao Yunqing, he couldn't keep his mouth shut.

"I think you look pretty good with short hair. Is it just that I'm more used to it, or what?"

Xiao Yunqing's face immediately darkened.

She glared at him, her chin held high.

"I am the most beautiful one!"

Zhao Qihang scratched his head, still not realizing what the problem was.

"I'm not saying you weren't good-looking before, it's just..."

"Shut up." Song Huan walked past him and patted him on the shoulder.

Zhao Qihang's emotional intelligence is so low, he should probably prepare for his funeral.

Before math class, Lu Xu stood on the podium, put down his lesson plan, and didn't rush to open it.

"I have something to tell you. The school is organizing a basketball tournament for the second-year students, and each class needs to send one team. Those who are interested can form their own teams and give the rosters to the class monitor." He glanced at Xiao Yunqing, "Class monitor, please keep this."

The whole class fell silent for a second.

Then the boy's side exploded.

Zhao Qihang jumped up from his seat, causing the chair to slide back a bit, almost bumping into the person behind him.

"A basketball game?" His voice was so loud the whole floor could hear. "Holy crap, it's finally here!"

Chen Xu sat beside him without saying a word, but his hands were clenched into fists, his knuckles turning white.

His lips were turned up, and he couldn't suppress it.

Song Huan leaned back in her chair, stunned for a moment.

Basketball game.

If everyone's youth has regrets, the first is a cherished memory, and the second is a lost game.

In their previous life, during their second year of high school at No. 4 High School, their class fought their way into the finals, only to lose by one point in the end.

He still remembers that ball.

He shot high from beyond the three-point line, then bounced off the back of the rim.

The final whistle blew.

Just one point short.

Later, when Song Huan couldn't sleep in bed after starting work, she would still think, "If only my hand position had been a little more stable, if only I had jumped half a second earlier, if only..."

Lu Xu looked at the group of boys below who were full of energy and nodded.

"The science classes are just different. I asked around in the humanities classes, but no one responded."

Zhao Qihang was already pulling Chen Xu down below and starting to gesture.

"Damn, with me, Song Huan, and Chen Xu—the three musketeers—our Class Four is invincible!"

"You play center, stay under the basket, I'll handle the ball, and Song Huan will play shooting guard, specializing in three-pointers. Those short guys from other classes will be utterly crushed by us..."

Lu Xu patted the podium.

"Alright, if you want to discuss this, let's talk about it after class. Now, let's begin class."

Zhao Qihang sat down, but only sat on one side, holding a pen in his hand, drawing tactical diagrams on the draft paper.

I drew a circle, then another circle, and the arrow moved from left to right and back again.

Chen Xu watched from the side, nodding occasionally.

Song Huan opened her textbook, held her pen in her hand, and felt a little itchy.

It wasn't that restless itch, it was more like... I can't quite put my finger on it, like something was poking around in my chest.

He remembered that game from his past life for over a decade.

It's time to take it back in this lifetime.

The pen cap poked the back of his hand.

He turned his head.

Xiao Yunqing was looking at him, her short hair hanging down to the side of her face, the ends sticking up slightly in the light from the window.

"Do you want to participate?"

"join."

She nodded and said something casually.

"Then you'd better come back with first place, don't embarrass our class."

Song Huan looked at her.

Her profile was in profile; she had short hair, and the tips of her ears were illuminated by the light, making them appear somewhat translucent.

He smiled slightly.

"Shall we make a bet?"

Xiao Yunqing turned to look at him, "What are we betting on?"

His gaze lingered on her hair. "Our class got first place, so you can grow your ponytail back."

Xiao Yunqing's face flushed red.

Her cheeks turned red all the way to the tips of her ears and down to her neck.

She opened her mouth as if to say something, but then swallowed it back.

My finger brushed against the edge of the textbook, then brushed against it again.

"What...what if you lose?" The voice was so soft it was like a mosquito's hum.

Song Huan shrugged. "I lost. I'll grant you one request, anything is fine with me."

She lowered her head, stared at her textbook, and after several seconds, nodded.

"Okay, it's a deal."

Song Huan smiled inwardly.

The little girl has taken the bait.

I must keep this ponytail for you.

……

"So you agreed to his request?" Zhou Shan asked curiously during PE class.

Xiao Yunqing nodded, "Why not? If he loses, I'll make him buy me lots and lots of snacks."

Zhou Shan was both amused and exasperated. "What if you lose?"

Xiao Yunqing pursed her lips and glanced at the basketball court.

On the court, Song Huan was standing outside the three-point line, receiving a pass from Chen Xu, jumping, and shooting.

The ball arced through the air and swished into the net.

"I don't believe he'll get first place."

He said that, but his gaze remained fixed on her.

Song Huan received another ball, dribbled once, and then shot.

Another three-pointer! The ball bounced off the back of the rim and rolled in.

Chen Xu picked up the ball under the basket and passed it to him.

Zhao Qihang stood to the side, hands on his hips, his voice so loud it could be heard across half the playground.

"Song Huan, your three-pointer is our class's biggest weapon! We'll crush the other classes and send them fleeing in disarray!"

Song Huan smiled and continued throwing.

Zhao Qihang took out a piece of paper and a pen from his pocket, squatted down and began to write and draw.

"Alright, alright, stop hitting me. Come over here and take a look at my business plan."

"You can make the plans, I'm fine with anything."

As Song Huan spoke, she cast another ball.

The ball grazed the rim and went in, bounced twice on the ground, and rolled to the corner of the wall.

Zhao Qihang certainly has enough influence.

Aside from those who just played around, there weren't many boys in the class who actually knew how to play basketball, but he still managed to put together a team of seven.

He unfolded the paper, on which was drawn a battle formation diagram, densely packed with arrows.

"Chen Xu stands under the basket, responsible for rebounding and defense. Song Huan runs on the perimeter, looking for opportunities to shoot three-pointers. I hold the ball at the top of the arc, organizing the offense. The rest of you..."

He stood up and ran to the free-throw line.

"At this point, you need to cut this way. See? Chen Xu is blocking the shot, you go around here, catch the ball and shoot."

He ran around while talking, demonstrating his movement.

When I ran to the three-point line, someone suddenly appeared in front of me.

Zhao Qihang couldn't brake in time, crashed into it, bounced back, and landed hard on his backside.

"Damn it!" He clutched his backside, looked up, and exclaimed, "Are you blind?"

The person who hit him didn't move.

He was very tall, a head taller than Zhao Qihang, holding a basketball in his hands and smiling.

That smile wasn't one of embarrassment; it was more like, how should I put it, a cat looking at a mouse, its eyes filled with disdain and provocation.

"I thought you were from the NBA when I saw you talking about tactics," he said slowly, with a lazy southern accent. "I didn't expect you to fall down as soon as you turned around. You're really frail."

There were two other people standing behind him, one on his left and one on his right, holding the ball and laughing along.

Zhao Qihang scrambled to his feet, his face flushed red. "What did you say?"

"I said you're weak." The man's smile faded, his chin held high. "What's wrong?"

Chen Xu took a step forward.

The boys behind him also followed forward. They outnumbered the three, giving them a numerical advantage.

But the three men stood still, and the tall one even tucked the ball under his waist and crossed his arms over his chest.

"Is this the kind of behavior you guys in Class 4 have? You're ready to fight over a few words?"

Zhao Qihang was so angry that he rushed forward, but Chen Xu grabbed him.

Chen Xu placed his hand on Zhao Qihang's shoulder with great force, and Zhao Qihang struggled but couldn't break free.

The man scanned the room, his gaze shifting from Zhao Qihang's face to Chen Xu's.

The moment Zhou Jie saw Chen Xu, his eyes became complicated, filled with anger, admiration, and resentment.

It smeared on Song Huan's face again; this guy looked completely ordinary...

"My name is Zhou Jie, from Class 8." He took the ball off his waist and tucked it under his arm. "If you're not satisfied, we'll see you on the court."

After saying that, he turned and left.

He walked slowly, his sneakers squeaking on the concrete.

The two men followed behind, took a few steps, looked back at the crowd, and said something with a smile.

Zhao Qihang stood there, brushing the dust off his pants. "Damn, Zhou Jie? So arrogant! Does he think he's Jay Chou?"

Song Huan didn't say anything.

He watched the three people walk away, their shadows stretched long by the setting sun.

Zhou Jie walked in the middle, taking large strides, spinning the ball in his hand before tucking it under his arm.

Arrogant.

That's really arrogant.

Zhao Qihang was still cursing, "What's so great about Class 8? I was in Class 8 when I was in the first year of high school, so I'm practically their daddy! Damn it, when we run into them, I'll beat them to a pulp!"

Song Huan picked up the ball, stood outside the three-point line, and took a shot.

The ball arced through the air, hit the back of the rim, and bounced out.

It didn't go in.

He ran over to retrieve the ball, then came back to shoot it again.

This time it went in, hollow inside, the net was swung up, and with a whoosh.

Zhao Qihang was still gesturing, "Chen Xu, you stand under the basket and block him, I'll defend him from the outside, Song Huan, you..."

He turned to look at Song Huan, "You're in charge of scoring. Make him so frustrated he shuts up."

Song Huan made another shot, and it went in.

"Okay," he said.

……

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