Not an Amateur

As it happened, the cliché misunderstanding trope that always appears in stories did not appear this time.

When the entire basketball team had assembled, Teacher Xue immediately introduced their new advisor—

In a tone that clearly meant: “Look, this is our savior. Show some damn respect.”

Zhao Shu stood at the very back of the formation, fiddling with his phone, face dark the entire time.

Only when he received a string of photos on his phone—documenting Mr. Yang from being loaded into the ambulance to lying in a hospital bed wrapped like a mummy—did his expression shift slightly.

…So Wu Qie really hadn’t come because of him.

He put his phone away.

The boy who had been bristling like a cactus finally retracted that prickly “don’t come near me” aura and turned aside to warm up.

During stretches, he glanced over.

After the introduction, the black-haired young man did not disappear like other nominal advisors usually did.

Instead, Teacher Wu found a chair in the corner and sat down, smiling as he watched them warm up.

Hands resting neatly on his knees.

Eyes forward.

Sitting as properly as an elementary school student.

His gaze moved evenly from one player to another, as though carefully examining everyone’s movements—

As if he actually understood what he was looking at.

For a second or two, that gaze fell on Zhao Shu as well.

It made him uncomfortable.

Fortunately, Wu Qie did not linger on him because of their so-called “special relationship.”

After watching him dribble a few times, those dark eyes simply shifted away before Zhao Shu could get irritated.

They landed instead on Pei Qingyu beside him.

The basketball hit the wooden floor with a sharper crack.

Before training began, supermarket delivery staff brought in several cases of water and sports drinks.

Teacher Wu stood up and jogged over, directing them to stack the supplies in a corner—out of the way, yet convenient for grabbing during practice.

Zhao Shu watched as Wu Qie pulled out his phone, lowered his head politely, scanned something on the delivery worker’s phone, and smiled in thanks.

The worker waved it off, smiling back.

…He seemed to get along with everyone.

In less than forty minutes since his arrival, some teammates were already calling him “Teacher Wu” with easy familiarity.

“Teacher Wu, you didn’t have to spend so much. It’s just a title position. You’re making us feel bad being this serious!”

The cheerful Alpha who said this was the starting power forward.

Sometimes Zhao Shu thought he resembled Old Xue more than anyone else.

Wu Qie turned and smiled.

“It’s only right.”

The smile was open and calm.

Zhao Shu frowned faintly.

It wasn’t that he disliked Wu Qie getting along well with the team.

He wasn’t that petty.

The ball struck the floor twice with heavy thuds.

Suddenly, as though making up his mind, he caught it firmly and walked toward the corner while the younger players began running drills.

Wu Qie had his back to the court, opening boxes of drinks.

Sensing someone approach, he paused and turned.

The boy behind him was a head taller.

He leaned down slightly, brows knit, face tense.

“I thought my brother sent you to spy on me.”

Wu Qie blinked in surprise.

After a moment, his familiar gentle smile returned.

“Of course not.”

Zhao Shu: “…”

Maybe this person was born in a thirteenth month.

Somewhere between Capricorn and Aquarius.

A capybara sign.

“Not?”

“No. He’s not that idle. You skipping a matchmaking dinner by using basketball practice as an excuse isn’t enough reason for him to send someone to watch you.”

Zhao Shu: “…”

It was true.

But hearing the person he had stood up say it so plainly still caught him off guard.

His grip tightened slightly around the ball.

The man in front of him simply looked harmless, stating facts.

“Good,” Zhao Shu said flatly.

Wu Qie hummed lightly in agreement.

Zhao Shu lingered there for a moment.

The other man looked up at him with warm, steady eyes.

The sharp retort Zhao Shu had prepared dissolved before it could be spoken.

“…Forget it.”

The young Alpha pressed his lips together.

He shifted the ball from left hand to right with a loud smack.

Not wanting to provide gossip material to teammates who had begun glancing over, he turned to return to the court.

“But I never said I came without purpose.”

The voice behind him was light.

For a second, he thought he’d imagined it.

He spun around sharply, colliding with those same calm dark eyes.

The smile had not changed.

Zhao Shu had no idea what Wu Qie meant.

And that confusion made him distracted during the scrimmage.

Every time his gaze drifted toward the corner, he saw the black-haired Beta sitting there unmoving, watching intently.

Back and forth.

Sprints.

Jumps.

Defensive shifts.

Layups.

Wu Qie made no sound.

Quiet.

Yet his presence seemed to grow heavier by the minute.

Zhao Shu grew increasingly irritated.

S-class Alphas were not flawless.

Before maturity tempered them, most carried volatile tempers in adolescence.

Soon, teammates realized they had gone nearly five minutes without receiving a pass from Zhao Shu.

The second quarter of the scrimmage was almost over.

His style grew selfish and aggressive.

The third time he knocked a first-year rookie flying three meters during a rebound—unnecessarily hard—the boy lay on the floor for a long moment.

But pride kept him silent.

He was an Alpha.

And Zhao Shu was Zhao Shu.

Pei Qingyu had less patience.

As the opposing team’s lead, he walked over, helped the rookie up, and turned to Zhao Shu.

“If you keep this up, you’re done for today.”

When Pei Qingyu spoke, it mattered.

He was captain.

On the court, everyone listened to him.

Sometimes even the coach did.

This time, Zhao Shu didn’t argue.

He stood there, face dark.

Teacher Xue walked over and blew his whistle sharply right beside Zhao Shu’s ear.

The piercing sound made him jerk back, covering his ears.

“What? I didn’t foul!”

Technically, it wasn’t fully a foul.

But it was close.

Old Xue pointed at him.

“What did you take today? Sensitive period coming?”

“No.”

Zhao Shu rubbed his ringing ear lazily.

“I just don’t like being watched by an amateur.”

Silence fell.

Pei Qingyu glanced toward Wu Qie, still sitting quietly.

Unobtrusive.

He couldn’t understand why Zhao Shu was so fixated.

“It’s like the advisor actually wants to guide us. I’m worried he’ll call a meeting after training and ask why I didn’t shoot from midcourt just because it counts as three points. The more I think about it, the more annoying it is.”

He pointed toward the locked gym doors.

“Isn’t training closed before nationals? Can we clear out unrelated personnel?”

“Unrelated personnel?”

“Yes.”

“Clear out?”

“Yes.”

Teacher Xue folded his arms.

“So you’re suggesting Teacher Wu is a spy from a rival school? He pushed Mr. Yang down the stairs, waited in the hospital for me, seized the moment when I needed an advisor, secured the position without extra pay, and plans to leak our training data for money?”

Zhao Shu: “…”

Behind him, Pei Qingyu let out a short, sharp laugh.

“When has an advisor ever sat watching practice?” Zhao Shu muttered.

Old Xue sighed heavily.

Pei Qingyu frowned slightly.

“Zhao Shu. What’s wrong with you? Let him watch. It’s not a big deal.”

“I’m not a circus monkey performing for amateurs—”

Everything after that seemed to happen in a second.

He saw the black-haired Beta stand up and walk over.

He assumed he was about to scold him.

He was wrong.

In the instant the crowd shifted, Zhao Shu barely saw how Wu Qie reached him.

The ball in his hand suddenly felt lighter.

Gone.

Wu Qie stood at midcourt.

Set his feet.

Jumped.

The orange ball arced high.

Swish.

A clean, hollow shot.

Silence.

Except for the echo of the ball bouncing on the floor.

Zhao Shu blinked.

Looked at his empty hands.

Then at the ball rolling away beneath the hoop.

“Your dribbling stance is too high,” Wu Qie said calmly.

“You rely on high-tier Alpha pressure to force opponents back and break through. Against someone who doesn’t retreat, stealing from you takes less than three seconds.”

He lowered his gaze from the rim and looked back at Zhao Shu.

“And I’m not an amateur.”

He paused.

“You talk very unpleasantly.”