courtside

The basketball court was as bustling and lively as ever on Saturday afternoon. The sounds of dribbling, the swishing of sneakers, and the shouts of the boys mingled together, creating a vibrant atmosphere full of energy.

When Fang Chi pushed Xing Jiayan in a wheelchair to the entrance of the venue, He Chen, who was running on the court, spotted them immediately. He stopped abruptly, and the basketball slipped from his hands, rolling "thump" towards the sidelines.

"Jiayan! Fang Chi!" He Chen, not even bothering to retrieve the ball, rushed over in a few strides, his face beaming with undisguised surprise. "Why are you here?"

Sweat trickled down his sharply defined jawline, splashing tiny droplets on the polished floor. He wore a fiery red jersey, radiating heat like a burning flame, a stark contrast to the quiet and aloof Xing Jiayan in his wheelchair.

"Bring him out for some fresh air." Fang Chi said succinctly, parking the wheelchair in the shade next to the bench. "He's always cooped up in the classroom and seminar room; I'm afraid he'll get moldy."

Xing Jiayan didn't refute, only glancing at Fang Chi indifferently before turning his gaze to the empty basketball court. The players on the court were still running, jumping, and shooting, every movement full of power. His eyes followed the orange basketball, his fingers unconsciously tapping lightly on the armrest of his wheelchair.

He Chen followed his gaze and immediately understood what was happening. He patted Xing Jiayan's shoulder forcefully, so forcefully that the wheelchair tilted slightly backward, but Fang Chi caught it quickly.

"Hey, don't make that face!" He Chen's voice was loud and clear, with his characteristic cheerfulness. "Once you're better, we'll crush them together! You're our secret weapon now, in charge of strategizing!"

He made an exaggerated hand gesture, which made several substitute players next to him laugh.

Xing Jiayan's lips curved into an almost imperceptible smile: "You talk too much."

"That's right!" He Chen didn't mind at all, turned around and took a basketball from the equipment box, nimbly spinning it between his fingers. "Watch closely, this is a new move I've been practicing!"

As he spoke, ignoring their reactions, he dribbled the ball back onto the court, jumped from a distance, and unleashed a powerful, albeit imperfect, long-range shot. The basketball arced high, slammed against the rim with a loud thud, and bounced away.

"Oops, oops!" He Chen ran after the ball, then turned back and grinned at them, revealing a set of white teeth.

Sunlight streamed through the high window, casting a shimmering golden glow on his sweat-drenched back.

Fang Chi sat down in the empty seat next to Xing Jiayan, unscrewed a bottle of water, and handed it to him.

Xing Jiayan took the drink but didn't drink it, his gaze still following the running figure on the field.

"That guy He Chen," Fang Chi couldn't help but comment, watching He Chen shouting and fighting hard on the field, "has inexhaustible energy."

“He’s always been like this.” Xing Jiayan’s voice was soft, with a hint of barely perceptible nostalgia. “Ever since I met him in junior high, he’s been like a perpetual motion machine.”

On the court, He Chen made a beautiful steal and scored a fast break layup. He roared excitedly, pounded his chest, then turned around, facing the bench, and raised two fingers high to make a "V" sign at Xing Jiayan and Fang Chi.

That smile was so bright it almost burned your eyes.

"Fool." Xing Jiayan muttered under his breath, picked up the water bottle, and finally took a sip of water.

Looking at the slight upturn of his lips, Fang Chi's unease about bringing him to the court slowly dissipated. He had been worried that having someone who had once dominated the court sitting here as a spectator would hurt his pride.

But now it seems he was overthinking things.

True strength lies in never fearing temporary difficulties. And true friends know how to offer support and companionship in the most natural way.

Just like He Chen, he wouldn't treat Xing Jiayan as a fragile object, but would tell Xing Jiayan in his somewhat noisy yet incredibly sincere way: You are still one of us, the court is here, the brothers are here, waiting for you to come back.

Just like himself, he wouldn't offer any useless words of comfort, but would simply sit quietly with him here, feeling the noise and energy.

During halftime, He Chen gulped down half a bottle of water like a water buffalo, then plopped down on the ground next to Xing Jiayan's wheelchair, leaning against the wheelchair wheels without a care in the world.

"How were those shots, bro?" He looked up at Xing Jiayan, his face practically screaming, "Praise me!"

"It's alright," Xing Jiayan gave a fair assessment. "It's just that my defensive footwork is still messy, making me easy to fake out."

"Tsk, you..." He Chen pursed his lips, but did not refute. Instead, he leaned closer and lowered his voice, "Seriously, how's your foot? When can you take this thing off?" He patted the armrest of the wheelchair.

"Soon."

"That's great!" He Chen's eyes lit up. "We're counting on you for the inter-school league next month!"

Xing Jiayan didn't say anything, but just watched the players on the field start running again.

Fang Chi noticed that the fingertips tapping on the armrest were tapping at a faster pace.

The second half began, and He Chen rushed back onto the field full of energy. Fang Chi, looking at Xing Jiayan's focused profile, suddenly spoke:

"Are you in a hurry?"

Xing Jiayan was silent for a moment, then said calmly, "A little."

He looked at the running and jumping figures, at the trajectory of the basketball in the air, his eyes deep: "I'm used to controlling the rhythm on the court, but sitting below and watching feels... very different."

Fang Chi followed his gaze and suddenly understood that feeling. It was a sense of detachment, a transformation from participant to observer, with everything familiar right in front of him, yet separated by an invisible barrier.

“But we can see it more clearly now, can’t we?” Fang Chi said.

Xing Jiayan was slightly taken aback and looked at him.

“When you’re on the court, all you see is the basket and your opponents.” Fang Chi pointed to the court. “Sitting here, you can see the whole situation, everyone’s movement, and the flow of tactics.”

He paused, then added, "Just like solving physics problems, sometimes stepping outside the specific calculations and looking at it from a higher perspective can reveal the key."

Xing Jiayan looked at him with deep eyes, and after a long while, she softly hummed in agreement.

As the sun set, training was drawing to a close. He Chen ran over, drenched in sweat, his hair plastered wetly to his forehead.

"Let's go!" He wiped his face haphazardly with a towel. "It's on me. A new ice cream shop opened near the back door, and they say it's really good!"

Fang Chi looked at Xing Jiayan, asking with his eyes.

Xing Jiayan nodded.

Fang Chi then pushed the wheelchair, while He Chen chattered on about the funny things that had happened during training, occasionally imitating a teammate's comical actions, which made Fang Chi laugh as well.

The three walked slowly out of the stadium, bathed in the orange glow of the setting sun. The wheels of the wheelchair made a steady, soft sound, which gradually blended with the sound of the basketball hitting the ground and the laughter of the boys.

Xing Jiayan sat in his wheelchair, listening to the noise of his friends around him, feeling the steady push from behind, and looking at the road ahead dyed golden by the setting sun.

At that moment, he suddenly felt that leaving the field temporarily wasn't so unbearable after all.

Even the view from this angle has a unique charm.

He tilted his head slightly, catching a glimpse of Fang Chi's sharply defined jawline and those eyes that always held a hint of stubbornness, but now softened.

"Fang Chi," he suddenly spoke.

"Um?"

"In the next physics competition," Xing Jiayan's voice was calm and even, "we'll be in the same group again."

Fang Chi paused slightly as he pushed the wheelchair, then resumed his normal movements.

“Nonsense,” he said, a hint of amusement in his voice. “What else?”

Walking to the side, He Chen looked at this person, then at that person, and exaggeratedly rubbed his arms:

"Hey, hey, hey, can you two stop this again? Can't you think about how single people feel?!"

His response was a light kick from Fang Chi and a very soft, amused snort from Xing Jiayan.

The setting sun cast long, long shadows of the three people.