Call me Dad?

On the second day of the holiday, the winter sky was clear, a rare sight. The sunlight was thin and spread on the ground, not very warm, but bright enough.

Fang Chi was frowning at a tricky competition extension problem on his computer screen when his phone vibrated. It was a message from Xing Jiayan: "The court, now."

His consistent style is to be decisive and efficient.

Fang Chi stared at those four words for a few seconds, then glanced at his stuck train of thought on the screen, finally closing his laptop and getting up to put on a thick coat. He knew what Xing Jiayan meant. The tension was too high and needed to be loosened, and for them, the best way to relax might be to compete on another battlefield.

The outdoor basketball court at the city stadium was nearly deserted, the wind whistling through the bare branches. Xing Jiayan had already arrived, dressed in a black tracksuit, dribbling the ball alone; the sound of the basketball hitting the concrete surface was exceptionally clear in the empty court. Seeing Fang Chi approach, he flicked his wrist, the ball bounced up, and he caught it steadily.

"I thought you were going to struggle with that problem to the bitter end." Xing Jiayan tossed the ball over.

Fang Chi caught it, the cool leather touch invigorating him. "I can't compare to you, you're still full of energy after the exam." He took off his coat and threw it on the sidelines, revealing a light gray sweatshirt underneath that made him look thin.

"Stretch your muscles and stay in shape." Xing Jiayan walked to the basket, turned to face him, and his eyes were particularly sharp in the thin winter sunlight. "Whether on the basketball court or in the exam room, I will win beautifully."

These words sounded arrogant, but coming from him, they carried a certain unquestionable certainty. Fang Chi bounced the ball twice, feeling the force of the rebound, and looked back: "Want to beat me? Catch my shadow first."

This was essentially returning the favor to Xing Jiayan after he'd said those words before the competition. As soon as the words left his mouth, Fang Chi paused for a moment, his ears burning. The conversation sounded a little childish, yet also had a certain other flavor.

Xing Jiayan clearly understood as well. He raised an eyebrow, not annoyed at all, but instead a playful smile appeared on his lips. "Alright," he said, taking a defensive stance, "then let's see who's chasing whose shadow today."

There were no referees, no rules, just a simple one-on-one game. Fang Chi dribbled the ball; his basketball skills were far inferior to Xing Jiayan's, but he had the advantage of quick thinking and keen observation. Knowing he couldn't win by brute force, and that his attempts to break through were easily intercepted by Xing Jiayan, he simply changed his strategy, making a sudden stop and faking a shot.

Xing Jiayan fell for the trick and shifted his weight to block the shot. Fang Chi, however, instantly lowered his body, nimbly slipped past him, jumped, and flicked his wrist—the ball bounced twice on the rim and rolled in.

"Not bad luck." Xing Jiayan turned around and commented, a hint of a smile in his eyes.

"Skill." Fang Chi retrieved the ball without batting an eye, even though he knew he had probably just been lucky with that shot.

When it was Xing Jiayan's turn to attack, his momentum was completely different. His dribbling speed wasn't fast, but his rhythm was extremely strong, and every step he took landed on Fang Chi's most awkward defensive spots. With a crisp crossover step, he made Fang Chi lose his balance and then easily scored a layup.

"Too slow." He picked up the ball and tossed it back to Fang Chi, his tone as calm as if stating a fact.

Fang Chi pursed his lips and didn't say anything, but just stared more intently at the ball in his hand.

After several rounds, Fang Chi was sweating and breathing rapidly. Xing Jiayan, on the other hand, was clearly in control, with only a thin layer of sweat on his forehead, and his movements remained fluid and graceful. When Fang Chi attempted to steal the ball, Xing Jiayan backed down and used his physical advantage to push Fang Chi aside, then turned and jumped to shoot, scoring the winning shot.

As the ball went in, Fang Chi stumbled backward due to inertia and almost fell. Xing Jiayan instinctively reached out and steadied his arm.

"Are you alright?" he asked, but didn't immediately let go of her hand.

The two were very close. Fang Chi could clearly see the tiny beads of sweat on Xing Jiayan's nose, feel the warmth from his palms through the fabric of his hoodie, and feel his slightly rapid breathing on his forehead. The heat from their exercise, mixed with the other man's refreshing yet slightly sweaty scent, made Fang Chi's head spin a little.

"N-nothing." Fang Chi suddenly stood up straight, shaking off his hand, his cheeks rising uncontrollably. He felt a little embarrassed by his reaction; it was just a touch, after all.

Seeing his ears turn red instantly and his forced composure, Xing Jiayan's smile deepened. She deliberately leaned closer and lowered her voice, "How can you be number one if you're so easily embarrassed?"

The warm breath brushed against his earlobe, and Fang Chi felt as if he had been burned, his neck turning red. He took a step back and glared at Xing Jiayan, but his gaze lacked any real threat due to the blush on his cheeks, instead appearing somewhat bluffing.

"Who's shy!" He snatched the basketball from the ground, slapped it twice, trying to use movement to bring things back to normal. "Again!"

Xing Jiayan readily complied and stopped teasing him, but his defensive actions noticeably involved more physical contact—not fouls, but arm-to-arm when boxing out, and subtle collisions when grabbing rebounds. Each contact was brief, yet carried a clear tactile sensation and warmth, keeping Fang Chi's heart racing and constantly diverting his attention.

He knew Xing Jiayan was doing it on purpose. This realization both angered him and stirred a strange, inexplicable feeling within him.

Finally, during Xing Jiayan's layup attempt, Fang Chi jumped to block but failed, and the two inevitably collided upon landing. To maintain his balance, Xing Jiayan braced himself against Fang Chi's waist with one hand while still holding the basketball with the other. Fang Chi, in turn, instinctively grabbed the fabric of Xing Jiayan's shirt.

Time seemed to stand still for a second.

The only sounds on the court were the wind and their slightly disordered breathing. Fang Chi could feel the rise and fall of Xing Jiayan's chest and its warmth through his sports uniform. Xing Jiayan's palm was pressed against his waist, its heat scorching even through the thin hoodie.

Fang Chi abruptly released his grip, took a step back, his face flushed crimson, even the corners of his eyes tinged with pink. He looked away, not daring to meet Xing Jiayan's eyes, feeling a tingling, electric shock-like sensation where he had just been touched.

Xing Jiayan slowly lowered his hand, and the basketball bounced and rolled away on the ground. He looked at Fang Chi's flushed ears and evasive eyes, his Adam's apple bobbed slightly, and his eyes darkened.

The atmosphere shifted subtly; the sparks of competition seemed to have quietly transformed into something more hidden and volatile.

To break the suffocating ambiguity, Fang Chi took a deep breath, wiped the sweat from his forehead haphazardly, and tried to regain his composure in an almost bluffing tone, saying the thought that had crossed his mind countless times: "Xing Jiayan, you wait, one day, I will make you willingly call me Dad."

These words were spoken through gritted teeth, carrying the defiant and childish provocation typical of youth. But uttered in this atmosphere, they sounded somewhat distorted.

As expected, Xing Jiayan, far from being angry, seemed to have heard something extremely interesting. He tilted his head slightly, his gaze lingering on Fang Chi's still flushed face. Then, he took a small step forward, closing the already short distance between them. His voice was extremely low, almost breathy, so that only the two of them could hear it clearly. Each word was like a feather tickling Fang Chi's most sensitive nerve:

"Moaning in bed?"

"..."

Fang Chi's mind went completely blank with a "boom." All the blood seemed to rush to his head, his ears were ringing, and his cheeks were burning hot. He stared at Xing Jiayan in disbelief, his lips trembling, but he couldn't utter a single word.

Seeing his expression—a mixture of shock, humiliation, and utter disbelief—Xing Jiayan finally couldn't help but chuckle softly. The laughter, resonating from his chest, carried a hint of pleasure and a mischievous triumph.

"You...you..." Fang hesitated for a long time before finally bending down to pick up his coat, turning around and leaving. His steps were so fast that he almost ran, and his back view showed a flustered and embarrassed look.

"Hey, the game isn't over yet!" Xing Jiayan called out from behind him, his laughter barely concealed.

"I'll hit you, my foot!" Fang Chi didn't even turn his head, leaving behind a completely intimidating curse before his figure quickly disappeared at the stadium exit.

Xing Jiayan stood there, watching his retreating figure, which was practically fleeing in panic. A smile slowly spread from the corners of his mouth to his eyes, finally filling his entire handsome face. He bent down to pick up the basketball that had rolled into the corner and twirled it between his fingers.

The winter wind blew across the empty stadium, carrying a chill, but it couldn't dispel the warmth and joy emanating from him.

He knew he had gone a bit too far.

But the way that guy blushed was really funny.

Besides, who told him to flirt first?

Although the way he flirted was adorably clumsy.

Xing Jiayan dribbled the ball and shot a few baskets on the court by himself, but his mind was no longer on the ball. He remembered the trembling of Fang Chi's fingertips when he grabbed his clothes, his flushed face and evasive eyes, and that childish "Call me Daddy" followed by his own even more outrageous teasing.

My heart seems to be beating even faster than when I was playing ball.

He put away the ball, walked to the sidelines, picked up his coat and an unopened bottle of water that Fang Chi had hurriedly left behind. He unscrewed the cap and took a sip; the icy liquid slid down his throat, but it couldn't extinguish the flickering flame in his heart.

The final is almost here.

Some things can wait until after the exam to settle things.

Some things can be said more clearly after the dust has settled.

He carried the bottle of water and walked unhurriedly in the direction Fang Chi had left. The sunlight cast a long shadow of his, steady and clear, on the cold cement ground.

Fang Chi, fleeing the stadium, rushed home, closed the door, and leaned against the cold door panel before daring to catch his breath. His face remained flushed, and his heart pounded wildly.

"Moaning in bed..."

Xing Jiayan's low voice and smiling eyes kept replaying in his mind.

That bastard! Shameless! Scoundrel!

He cursed Xing Jiayan a thousand times in his heart, but the more he cursed, the hotter his face became, and the more erratic his heartbeat became. A strange, shameful, yet strangely agitated emotion entwined him like vines, leaving him at a loss.

He threw himself onto the sofa and covered his burning face with a cushion.

It's over.

He thought.

Something seems... really not right.