Chapter 1
It was the busiest afternoon of early autumn at Chaoyang Middle School. The leaves of the locust trees lining the playground were still gleaming green. The heat from the plastic rink, tinged with the smell of rubber, mingled with the roar of the students' formations. The annual Teacher's Day basketball game was always the most exciting opening ceremony of the new semester.
The banner "2003 Beijing Chaoyang Middle School Teachers and Students Basketball Friendly Match" fluttered in the wind with the heat wave.
Ling Peng tugged at the hem of his yellow No. 7 jersey. The white silicone bracelet on his wrist gleamed with sweat. The high school team was already four points behind the teachers' team, with only one minute left in the fourth quarter. Physics teacher Wang Baoguo pressed in again, his elbow rubbing against his ribs, intentionally or unintentionally.
"Brother Peng, go!" Several freshman boys on the sidelines slapped their knees. Ling Peng suddenly spun, his basketball shoes scraping against the court with a short, sharp sound. He jumped, raised his arms, and released the ball—the basketball arced and hit the front of the basket, then bounced out.
"Ouch!" A uniform sigh echoed from the student phalanx. Ling Peng turned around, stuck out his tongue at his teammates, and shrugged with his hands spread out.
His spiky hair, damp with sweat, stood out in the sunlight, and his grin stretched almost to his ears, revealing dazzlingly white teeth. That smile held no trace of the shadow of failure, only a frank, fervent warmth that seemed to evaporate all worries.
In the square formation of Class 2, Grade 2, Zhao Jinglu was feeling sleepy from the sun.
The grimace of failure was like a mint candy, unexpectedly catching her eyes. Her heart suddenly skipped a beat, and time froze at that frame.
She recalled Pan Weibo's smirk when he was rapping on "Music Billboard" yesterday - it turns out that there are people in real life who can laugh so brightly, so brightly that it is almost dazzling.
The whistle pierced the din. The teachers' team won 32-28, and geography teacher Sun triumphantly spun the basketball off the court. Ling Peng ripped off his wristband to wipe sweat, revealing a pale, old scar on his wrist.
As the junior high school team disbanded, Zhao Jinglu looked back at the empty court. The figure in the number 7 jersey disappeared around the corner of the equipment room, like a fish leaping into deep water, silently slipping through her world, leaving only a barely perceptible ripple.
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