Under Chen Nannan’s lead, Shen An arrived at the basketball court she had described as quiet.
The area consisted of two full courts, each divided into halves for a total of four smaller ones.
Unfortunately, both full courts were already occupied, surrounded by sizable crowds. The atmosphere was lively, no quieter than the main athletic field.
Shen An’s mouth twitched as he held the ball. He turned to Chen Nannan. “Quiet?”
Chen Nannan looked equally embarrassed. She hadn’t anticipated such a crowd.
“It’s probably because of all the booth setups,” she explained. “The usual players must have migrated here.”
“I have a question,” Shen An said, eyeing the figures dashing across the court in matching team jerseys.
“Mm?”
“The Basketball Club only has three guys, right? Sure, the school’s gender ratio is skewed, but there have to be at least a few hundred guys total.”
Chen Nannan nodded slightly. “Of course. With tens of thousands of students overall, a few hundred guys is actually on the low side.”
“So let’s say there are a few hundred guys. At least dozens of them must like basketball.”
“If they aren’t joining the Basketball Club, are they all this passionate about just playing on their own?”
That was Shen An’s puzzle. He hadn’t felt comfortable asking back at the club’s booth amid the bustle.
Even if a club wasn’t popular or valued, it should still attract plenty of dedicated hobbyists.
Especially in university, where people powered by passion for their interests were never in short supply.
Chen Nannan furrowed her brow, hesitating for a moment before shaking her head. “There’s some stuff you haven’t grasped yet.”
“Like what?”
“It’s not that these basketball enthusiasts prefer playing privately. It’s that playing privately is more beneficial than joining the Basketball Club.”
She sighed, a touch of helplessness in her voice. “Joining a club isn’t just about training and events. There are tons of tedious chores waiting for you. Honestly, it means giving up half your freedom, and the club’s daily grind often runs counter to what drew you in the first place.”
“Ha?”
“Surprised?” Chen Nannan gave a self-deprecating smile. “I was too, at first.”
“Out of all the sports, basketball’s one I actually like. My roommate did too, so we joined the Basketball Club together early on.”
“But later I realized the club’s main focus wasn’t basketball at all.”
Shen An raised an eyebrow. “Then what was it?”
“Well, sort of basketball-related. Things like promoting basketball culture, giving talks, hosting lectures—all pretty pointless stuff.”
“The regular training was just basic drills too, since the club didn’t have any really skilled players to begin with.”
Chen Nannan let out a wistful sigh. “Pretty ridiculous, right? A basketball club with no one good at basketball.”
Shen An nodded. “A bit.”
“Most clubs are like that.” Chen Nannan wore the expression of someone who had seen it all.
“Take the Hanfu Club, for example. You might think joining means getting to wear new hanfu all the time and immersing yourself in the culture.”
“But in reality, it’s the opposite. You’re bogged down by endless trivial matters that leave you frustrated. It’s not just the new members complaining—the veteran presidents feel it too.”
“The newbies feel duped and resentful. The old guard has their own headaches they can’t voice, with no way to explain.”
“As the Club Federation president, I’m the one issuing those tedious procedural orders. But I’m just following the Student Union’s directives, and behind them is the school’s will.”
Her explanation suddenly made it all click for Shen An.
The school didn’t value club activities at all, so it had no intention of giving them room to grow.
It couldn’t outright ban or disband them, but it could pile on procedures until the bureaucracy became the main activity.
People joined clubs to have fun, not to be treated like workhorses.
Next, Chen Nannan pointed to the boys sweating it out on the court. She spoke softly. “This isn’t them just playing on their own, though. Did you notice their basketball jerseys? All uniform, right? They belong to an unofficial organization.”
“Like a Basketball Association?”
“Yeah. These associations are ones they formed on their own. It’s not just basketball—there are ones for soccer, badminton, you name it.”
“On top of that, there are department teams for each major, college-level teams, and the school team, all handled by the Student Union.”
“Those are the real hubs for enthusiasts, unlike the so-called clubs.”
“Aside from department and school teams, these underground associations don’t get school recognition. No extra credits, no official tournaments.”
“But they don’t mind. They just want to have fun. Without official status, they skip the red tape—best of both worlds.”
Shen An narrowed his eyes. He caught a flicker of envy in Chen Nannan’s gaze.
Being in the Student Union might sound prestigious, but it just made her a cog in the machine.
He chuckled softly and leaned close to her ear. “So is that why you don’t get involved with the Basketball Club, Senior Sister?”
“Mm, one of the reasons.”
Chen Nannan drawled lazily. “Part of it is that I’m in the Student Union. My first department wasn’t Club Federation, but I still handled a lot of club-related stuff.”
“From the start, I got sidelined. Club folks have a deep grudge against the Student Union.”
“Over time, I got tired of putting up with it. Go if you want to~”
She pouted proudly and huffed. “I don’t care anyway.”
Shen An smiled gently. “Once you step down as president, Senior Sister, couldn’t you join one of these associations? Play to your heart’s content.”
“Ah, that’s tough.”
Chen Nannan shook her head. “By junior year, coursework piles up.”
“No time for fun.”
“Time is something you make, Senior Sister. How do you know without trying?”
Shen An bounced the ball lightly. “I can tell you really want in on it.”
Chen Nannan paused, then laughed wryly. “When you’re watching from the sidelines, you always wish you were out there.”
“But once you’re on the court, that feeling vanishes.”
She waved it off and turned. “Come on, there’s another spot with no one around where we can play.”
“Huh? So many courts?”
“Of course. The campus is huge—every district has them.”
After more trekking, Shen An followed Chen Nannan from the Central District to the East District, where the girls’ dormitories clustered.
Fewer girls played basketball, so while the East District court had some people, there were open spaces left for Shen An and Chen Nannan.
“Whew, finally an empty court.”
Eager, Shen An grabbed the ball and dribbled, nailing a smooth three-step layup.
Chen Nannan lingered hesitantly at the edge.
Once the ball swished through the net, Shen An glanced back and beckoned. “Senior Sister? Come on.”
Chen Nannan replied guiltily. “I’m looking for a spot to put my bag.”
“It’s fine right here.”
Shen An pointed to a small open space under the basket.
“Oh~”
Chen Nannan set her bag down and shuffled onto the court, advancing three steps only to retreat one.
Shen An held the ball in a defensive stance, a grin tugging at his lips. “How do you want to play, Senior Sister?”
“How what?”
“Just shooting around, or one-on-one?”
“I… I…” Chen Nannan’s eyes darted. “Either’s fine.”
“Then let’s do one-on-one. I haven’t touched a ball in ages, so go easy on me, Senior Sister.”
Shen An positioned himself beyond the three-point line, dribbling slowly to find his rhythm.
Chen Nannan untied her hair tie, gathered her long hair into a high ponytail, and struck a defensive pose of her own.
Shen An sized her up a few times, getting the gist. A faint, teasing smile played on his lips.
“Watch out, Senior Sister. I won’t see you when I go for the layup.”
“Hah, you won’t even get a shot off!”
Chen Nannan brimmed with confidence.
“First to five wins, then. Loser does push-ups!”
Shen An added thoughtfully. “If I lose, I’ll do ten. You only have to do five, Senior Sister?”
Chen Nannan’s mouth fell open in shock at his suggestion.
Push… ups??
“Not okay?” Shen An blinked curiously.
“No, it’s fine!” Chen Nannan snapped out of it, declaring firmly. “No handicaps—whoever loses does ten.”
“Deal.”
Shen An smiled. “I like that fire in you, Senior Sister.”
Huh?
His words struck a chord, leaving Chen Nannan momentarily stunned.
Then the ball swished cleanly through the net.
One point.
Shen An asked, puzzled. “Senior Sister, why didn’t you defend?”
Chen Nannan hadn’t reacted yet. She glanced back—the net was still swaying, and the ball was already back in his hands.
This guy… he’s so fast.
She furrowed her brows, a mix of embarrassment and annoyance in her voice. “Why didn’t you say ‘go’ or something!”
“My bad, my bad.”
Shen An quickly admitted his mistake and passed the ball to Chen Nannan.
Chen Nannan caught it and stared at him in bewilderment.
Shen An scratched his head and pointed to the three-point line. “It’s your turn now.”
“Oh…”
Chen Nannan nodded, then walked straight to the three-point line with the ball in hand.
Shen An’s mouth twitched slightly. Not even gonna dribble it?
He cleared his throat.
Leaning forward a bit, he dropped into a defensive stance, his eyes sharp and focused on Chen Nannan.
Chen Nannan…
She clutched the ball, panic rising in her chest.
Who am I? Where am I? What am I supposed to do?
She stared blankly at the basket far behind him, then back at the intensely serious Shen An.
Waaah…
Chen Nannan racked her brain, trying to recall the basketball lessons from high school.
She was cramming like a student before an exam, desperately pulling back the basketball knowledge she’d all but forgotten.
But her flustered fumbling laid bare one undeniable fact: the real reason Chen Nannan had quit the Basketball Club—beyond the cliquey atmosphere and the misleading name—was that she plain didn’t know how to play basketball.
Shen An relaxed his defensive stance and drawled, “Senior Sister? The sun’s about to set.”
“Oh? Oh, oh, oh!!”
Chen Nannan’s thoughts snapped back into focus.
She cleared her throat lightly, her eyes sharpening in an instant. “Then watch out!”
“Bring it!”
Shen An squared up, ready for the incoming “attack.”
And then…
Chen Nannan let out a yell. “Aaaah!!!”
Thud.
Bang.
Shen An hadn’t moved an inch; even his outstretched arms stayed perfectly still.
The ball bounced across the floor with a few sad pats before rolling to a stop off to the side.
Chen Nannan’s pale cheek pressed against the court, smudged with a bit of dust, while the rest of her lay sprawled flat on the ground.
Luckily, she was wearing jeans today—not like last time with the short skirt.
So even after her spectacular face-plant, she hadn’t scraped herself up.
Just… a little undignified.
Shen An stood there, stunned.
What the hell?
In that split second when he’d seen Chen Nannan gripping the ball and starting to move, her left foot had tangled around her right… and tripped her up all on her own.
Good thing it was rough concrete; on a smooth surface, she probably would’ve slid right into a full kneel.
The air went deathly quiet, as if a few crows had just flown overhead, their bewildered caws echoing faintly.
Chen Nannan stayed flat on her stomach, her small hands pressed to the floor alongside her cheek. She didn’t so much as twitch, like she’d passed out cold.
Shen An hurried over and tried to help her up. “Senior Sister? You okay? Hurt anywhere?”
“I’m fine…”
Her voice came out muffled against the floor.
“Come on, get up first…”
“No, don’t touch me.” Chen Nannan refused to lift her head. “Just let me have a moment alone.”
Seeing this, Shen An sighed and simply sat down beside her.
“So, Senior Sister, you don’t actually know how to play, huh.”
Boom.
The words hit like a critical strike, devastating Chen Nannan’s already exploding sense of shame.
She gritted her teeth and muttered a rebuttal. “I do know how!”
“Uh… given what just happened, it’s kinda hard to buy that.”
“I really do! That was just a fluke.”
Chen Nannan explained, “It’s been forever since I last played, and I didn’t warm up or anything, so… I just slipped up for a second.”
“And it’s your fault too! Do you always play that hard against a girl?”
“With you defending like that, how was I supposed to drive past? You’re putting all this pressure on me!!!”
Unable to explain herself out of it, Chen Nannan switched to full pout mode—just short of rolling on the ground and whimpering.
A black line crept across Shen An’s forehead.
Truth be told, from the moment he’d seen her defensive stance at the start, Shen An had suspected she wasn’t much of a player.
He’d planned to goof around a bit, let her score, maybe tease her some more.
He just hadn’t expected…
This senior sister to fumble quite so badly.
He hadn’t even gotten into it yet, and she’d already tanked herself—hard. A total wipeout, no chance for recovery.
Thinking back to all the little games they’d played on the way here…
He arched a brow and said coolly, “I figured you were just a gaming noob, Senior Sister. Didn’t realize you were a total klutz at sports too.”
Boom.
Now that was too much.
The words struck right at Chen Nannan’s pride.
She was a fiercely competitive person, after all.
She pounded the floor with a small pink fist, flames igniting in her eyes as she shot to her feet.
Her expression turned steely, her tone laced with sudden confidence. “Don’t count me out yet. The matchup’s just getting started.”
“Alright!”
Shen An jumped up too, grabbed the ball, and handed it back to her.
He retreated to the two-point line and dropped into defense again.
Chen Nannan tossed her ponytail back, her gaze locked on the basket behind Shen An.
“Here we go!”
“Bring it!”
“Aaah!!!!”
Thud.
Bang.
The ball rolled across the ground, bounced a few times, and came to a halt.
Chen Nannan had wiped out again—in the exact same spot, same startup, same pose.
Shen An silently lowered his arms and murmured, “Maybe I should just shoot rings around you instead—er, I mean, how about we switch to shooting drills?”
Waaah!!!
This time, Chen Nannan didn’t bother explaining.
She didn’t even speak. She just burst into full-on whimpering.
Tears welled up in her eyes, bitterness flooding her heart.
This isn’t right…
Why… why…
Why am I… so bad at this…
