A Rigged Basketball Game

Recently, the relationship between Qin An and the Little Tyrant had advanced by leaps and bounds. Occasionally, they would spar, each bout ending with Qin An’s miserable defeat. Whether he was holding back remained a mystery.

It was PE class. The pretty girl An Qi, exhausted after two laps, hid under the shade of a tree with flushed cheeks. Qin An, however, simply skipped class, retreating to the tree’s shade to indulge in his daydreams.

Qin An’s class shared this PE session with the Little Tyrant’s class. Since Red Star Elementary was affiliated with Red Star Middle School, they shared the same sports field. Most basketball courts were occupied by middle schoolers, leaving only one court—and around that court, a dispute arose between the two classes.

“Little Tyrant, let me tell you, we’re taking this court today.”

“Why should we give it to you? It’s our turn today. If you want it, come and take it!”

“Pretty cocky, aren’t you, Little Tyrant? Seems you won’t shed tears until you see the coffin?”

“Hmph!”

“Little Tyrant, basketball is a boys’ game.”

“Bullshit! The Chinese men’s team can’t even beat the women’s team!”

Chen Chao was momentarily speechless, then flushed with anger. “Anyway, we’re taking this court today.”

Behind Chen Chao, a group of tall boys in jerseys closed in. The Little Tyrant wasn’t short, but compared to them, the gap was significant.

“If you’ve got guts, play us! Let the ball do the talking,” the Little Tyrant said, clutching the basketball.

“Fine! Let’s see how many of you can even field a team.” Chen Chao grinned. Instantly, the two boys who had been standing behind the Little Tyrant retreated, blending into the crowd of onlookers.

“You cowards!” the Little Tyrant cursed in frustration. Including herself, there were only three people. How could they play a game?

“Um, count me in? I don’t know how to play, though.” A thin boy raised his hand, sensing the Little Tyrant’s predicament.

“And me,” Qin An added, raising his hand too. Hearing Qin An’s voice, the Little Tyrant’s eyes lit up.

“Qin An, aren’t you in our class? Why are you siding with another class?” said a not-so-pretty girl, likely charmed by Chen Chao’s demeanor.

Huang Jiajun glanced over, frowning at Qin An. This guy has no sense of collective honor. He needs a good lecture someday, she thought. Though she disapproved of Chen Chao’s behavior, in her eyes, the Little Tyrant was just as bad—a case of the pot calling the kettle black. Especially since the Little Tyrant was a girl; how could she engage in rough play like fighting with boys?

“Chen Chao, you have to beat them!” a boy shouted. Among classmates, there were always circles—big ones and small ones—and always one or two students excluded from all circles. Like tattletales, the extremely ugly or beautiful, those favored by pretty girls, the quiet ones. At that moment, Qin An was playing the role of the unpopular kid.

“Beat the traitor! The collaborator!” another boy jeered.

“Fine! I’ll show you my skills. I’m on the youth palace team.”

The ball was tossed. Chen Chao was determined to get it, but the Little Tyrant proved more skilled, snatching the ball and weaving through defenses before executing a beautiful layup. The ball spun around the rim and dropped in.

What followed was a total beating for Chen Chao’s team. Qin An’s three-pointers were terrifyingly accurate, leaving Chen Chao dumbfounded. One hundred percent from beyond the arc? How was that even possible? Was he cheating?

The score gap widened. Chen Chao winked at the thin boy holding the ball, who promptly passed it to the opposing team. A huge blunder. If it happened once, maybe it was accidental. If it were one traitor, maybe forgivable. But gradually, the 5v5 turned into 2v8.

“I planned to beat you fair and square. You forced my hand.”

“Chen Chao, you’re shameless!”

“So what? People like you should just play jump rope.”

“Wait, Little Tyrant, don’t—”

Before Qin An could stop her, the Little Tyrant charged alone with the ball. But eight players converged on her. She used feints to break through the first two lines of defense, but Chen Chao, disregarding the rules, body-slammed her from behind. The Little Tyrant crashed to the ground, scraping her knee.

“Chen Chao, that’s a foul!” The Little Tyrant gritted her teeth.

“Me? No way!” Chen Chao spread his hands. “The ref didn’t blow the whistle, did he?”

Chen Chao and the referee exchanged knowing smiles.

Qin An helped the Little Tyrant up. “You okay?”

“I’m fine. I didn’t expect Chen Chao to be so underhanded, with so many of his cronies. This is a rigged game. Let’s go.”

“We can’t just let it slide. They hurt you. Just watch,” Qin An said, settling the Little Tyrant under the basket.

Qin An stepped back onto the court and picked up the ball.

“You still want to play?”

“Yeah.” Qin An nodded, looking innocently clueless.

“Hahaha, you idiot. Since you’re asking for it, we’ll show you what happens when you cross Master Chen.”

“You won’t get this ball again.”

Who could have guessed that Qin An’s words would come true? First, he sank a half-court three-pointer, stunning everyone. Was this guy’s luck god-tier?

What followed was a one-man show. Qin An caught the ball under the basket, dodged every double-team and dirty trick like a nimble monkey, and scored.

The final whistle blew. Qin An spun the ball in his hand. “Want another round?”

Chen Chao knew his worldview had been shattered.

In the medical room—

Qin An silently applied medicine to the Little Tyrant’s wound. Lately, he had been acting as the Little Tyrant’s personal medic. He was just curious about those “beauty legs”—why were they so fair?

No teacher was in the room. Qin An swiped some liniment, alcohol, and cotton balls.

“Thief,” the Little Tyrant remarked, noticing his actions.

“It’s for you. You get hurt every few days. When I ask Aunt Xia for medicine at home, she scolds me every time. I feel bad for you.”

The Little Tyrant kicked her jade-white feet, reminiscing. “Xiao An, do you remember when we were kids? Those were the days. I’d push you off the riverbank when you were fishing, pull your chair out from under you when you sat down, sprinkle chili powder on your bread, have crabs pinch your crotch, make you kiss the catfish…”

Qin An broke into a cold sweat. You were really good to me, huh. Seems like it. But those old stories aren’t worth digging up.

“You must hate me, right? I used to steal your toys, was a total bully. I thought it was so fun to mess with you, being with you was great.”

“Can we still be friends forever? I promise I’ll never bully you again.” The Little Tyrant patted her chest.

“What nonsense. Aren’t we going to be best friends forever? Brothers?” Qin An hugged the Little Tyrant. It felt good to have someone looking out for him; tears almost welled up in his eyes. But why did the Little Tyrant smell like perfume? Was his nose acting up?

“Forever… best friends… brothers?” The Little Tyrant’s voice faltered, laced with discouragement, regret, and sorrow.

The Little Tyrant touched her short hair. Maybe it would be a long, long time before she needed a haircut.