Zheng stood on the court, trying to steady his breath despite the rapid pounding of his heart. His eyes were fixed on Jian, who stood just a few feet away, calm and composed as always. The third quarter was nearing its midpoint, and the scoreboard showed a twelve-point gap.
Zheng clenched his fists as he wiped the sweat from his brow. Was it still the same? The gap between them?
His mind drifted back to that day years ago. The first time, he’d asked Jian to play. How easily he’d been defeated.
He lost, and he watched as Jian walked away from him like it was nothing. However, Zheng had said something that day—something that stuck with him.
"I’ll meet you there someday," he had told Jian after their one-on-one match.
Jian had raised an eyebrow at him, not turning around. His hand had waved carelessly over his shoulder.
"Got it," Jian had said, his voice nonchalant, almost amused. He had probably heard those words countless times before from other players who thought they could challenge him. But something in the way Zheng said it must have struck a chord, if only for a moment.
Still, they hadn’t played against each other again. Not for two whole years. Jian kept rising through the ranks, his name becoming more well-known with every game.
Meanwhile, Zheng toiled away in the background, constantly pushing himself, constantly working harder.
And then, last year, they met again in the Nationals. Zheng had just made it into the Elite Five. He remembered the satisfaction that had come with it, the feeling that he was finally catching up.
"I made it," Zheng had told himself that day, standing tall with the title of Elite hanging above him. Jian, of course, had already been part of the Elite for a year. Two bi-annuals—to be exact.
Zheng had felt confident going into that game. They had trained harder than ever, preparing meticulously down to the last detail. That was supposed to be the moment he proved that hard work could stand toe-to-toe with natural talent. But even with the team’s efforts, even with everything Zheng had given, they still lost.
The game had been close, closer than anyone had expected. But it wasn’t close enough. In the end, Jian’s team emerged victorious, and the gap between them remained.
After that, they played a few more games—friendly matches, casual ones that Jian probably treated as nothing more than practice. But Zheng took them seriously.
Every time they stepped onto the court together, Zheng gave it his all, trying to close that gap.
And every time, he lost.
Zheng never let those losses break him, though. Each defeat only fueled his determination, pushing him to work harder, train longer, and refine his skills.
And now, here they were, standing on the same court again. The gap between their teams was twelve points, and once again, Jian stood before him, seemingly unchanged.
His presence and the way he carried himself—it was as if no time had passed at all. Jian remained the same dominant force he had always been, and Zheng wondered, for a moment, if everything he sacrificed all came down to this.
Zheng could hear the sounds of the game around him—the squeak of shoes on the hardwood, the shouts of his teammates, and the steady thud of the basketball bouncing against the floor. But all of it seemed distant, drowned out by the beating of his own heart and the intensity of the moment.
Jian had the ball now, effortlessly dribbling it between his legs as he surveyed the court. His eyes flicked briefly to Zheng, and for the first time in a long time, they were face-to-face in a real match. No more friendly games. No more practice runs.
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This was it. The Nationals. The stage they had both fought to stand on.
Zheng’s muscles tensed as Jian moved. In a blur, Jian drove toward the basket, his movements smooth and confident. But Zheng was ready this time. He stayed with him, step after step, forcing Jian to change direction. Jian hesitated, just for a second, before pulling up for a jump shot.
Zheng leaped, his hand outstretched, trying to contest the shot. The ball sailed just over his fingertips, and for a brief moment, everything slowed down. He watched as the ball arced through the air, seemingly in slow motion, before it swished through the net.
Jian’s expression didn’t change. He landed softly, turned, and jogged back down the court as if nothing had happened. Another two points. Another small victory for the man who made it all look so easy.
Zheng couldn’t help but feel disappointed—the years of hard work, the countless hours spent training, and the repeated losses.
But then he shook his head, forcing the doubt away. No. Things weren’t the same. Not entirely.
Zheng wasn’t the same player he had been two years ago, and he wasn’t the same player he had been at last year’s Nationals. He had grown. He had learned. And more than anything, he had endured. He might not have been born with the natural talent that Jian had, but he had something else. He had persistence. He made an effort. And he wasn’t going to let this moment slip away. Discover hidden content at freewebnovel
As Jian moved down the court, Zheng followed, his eyes focused, his body ready. He didn’t know if today would be the day that he finally closed the gap between them. He didn’t know if this would be the game where hard work triumphed over talent.
But he knew one thing for sure. He wasn’t going to stop. Not now. Not ever.
The gap was twelve points. It wasn’t impossible.
Zheng took a deep breath. The game wasn’t over yet.
This time, he was determined to leave everything on the court.
As Jian dribbled past him, their eyes met for the briefest of moments, and for the first time in a long time, Zheng saw something flicker in Jian’s gaze. It wasn’t quite a surprise, but it wasn’t indifference either.
Maybe, just maybe, things were different after all.