Basketball System: Rebound of the Underdog

Jian's final year of junior school started with a decision he hadn't expected himself to make. He remembered the night he brought it up with his parents, sitting at the dinner table in the kind of atmosphere that should have been tense but wasn't. Jian picked at his food, pushing his rice around his plate. His mother noticed first; of course, she did. She always did. "Is something on your mind, Jian?" she asked, her voice gentle. Jian put down his chopsticks, leaning back in his chair. He had rehearsed it in his head, imagining how they might react, but now that the moment was here, he felt oddly calm. "I want to take a break," he said, meeting their eyes. "From everything. School, basketball... I just need some time." His father set down his glass, looking at Jian with that steady, thoughtful gaze. He was quiet for a moment. "You've been working hard for a long time," he finally said. "If you need a break, then take it." Jian hadn't expected it to be that easy. He glanced at his mother, searching for a sign of disapproval, but she only nodded. "We understand, sweetheart," she said softly. "Just promise us you'll use this time to figure out what you really want." And just like that, it was settled. There was no argument, no questioning. It was all fine, as it always was. Jian should have felt relieved, but instead, there was that familiar emptiness, the sense that, once again, everything had fallen into place too easily. It was a strange sort of disappointment, one that he couldn't explain to anyone—not even to himself. He spent that year doing nothing. Nothing that mattered, at least. He filled his days with video games, sinking hours into online worlds where he wasn't playing himself. He'd sit in his room for hours, his headset on, zoning out to the sound of gunfire or the peaceful melody of an open-world game. His friends would come over sometimes, dropping onto Jian's bed with a laugh. "Man, you really took this break thing seriously," they'd tease. "Yeah," Jian would say, not looking away from the screen. "I guess I did." It wasn't like he was sad. He wasn't moping around or wallowing. He wasn't burnt out or suffering from some kind of identity crisis. He just... wasn't anything. He floated through the days, letting them blend into one another without much care. His parents didn't push him. They never had. He'd join them for dinner, listen to his sister's stories about university, and offer his usual polite responses. He smiled when he was supposed to, laughed when it was expected, and then retreated back to his room, where he could disappear into the digital noise of his games. You might think he was being dramatic. He definitely wasn't relatable—he never claimed to be. 'Oh, poor little Jian,' some might say. 'You have such a good life; what's there to complain about?' And they were right—that was the problem. There was no problem. His life was perfect, and that was what made it so unbearable. By the end of the year, he'd started to feel the itch of boredom setting in. The games that used to distract him now felt repetitive; the online banter with strangers didn't fill the void anymore. It was around that time that the recruiter for the Juren Champions approached him. The Champions were a legendary team known for their incredible track record and intense training. Jian had heard about them—everyone had. They were the kind of team that aspiring athletes dreamed of joining. He hadn't played basketball in almost a year, but when he got the call, his heart started racing once again. It wasn't excitement, not quite. He'd always been the best in his small pond, but this was the ocean. Maybe here, he'd find a challenge. Maybe this was what he needed. He told his parents he wanted to go back to school, and once again, they supported him without hesitation. "If that's what you want, then go for it," his mother said, squeezing his hand. Jian nodded, offering her a small smile. He wished he could explain it better—why he was doing this, why he felt the need to jump back into something he'd so eagerly left behind. But he couldn't find the words, so he didn't try. Jian walked back into school like he'd never left. It was startling how quickly everything fell into place again. The basketball team welcomed him back with open arms. There were more annoying people now—Chaoxing, to be exact—but Jian couldn't really complain. He slipped back into the routine effortlessly. Practice, school, games—it all felt the same as before. He was the best once again. He didn't even have to try. During his first game back, he played like he'd never stopped, scoring more points than the entire opposing team combined. The crowd cheered his name, just like they used to, and his teammates slapped his back, their faces bright with admiration. Jian smiled, raising his hand in acknowledgment. It felt good, but it didn't feel real. It was like slipping on an old mask and playing a role he'd memorized long ago. In his third year, something unexpected happened. Kimmy Wang confessed to him. Kimmy was the kind of girl who turned heads everywhere she went—pretty, smart, with a smile that could light up a room. She was also a huge basketball fan, attending every game and cheering louder than anyone else. Jian had noticed her before, of course. It was hard not to. But he'd never given it much thought. She caught him after practice one day, her cheeks flushed, probably from running to catch up with him. "Jian," she called out, breathless. He turned, raising an eyebrow. "What's up?" Kimmy hesitated for a moment, then took a deep breath, her eyes meeting his. "I like you," she said, her voice surprisingly steady. "I've liked you for a while now. I just thought you should know." For a moment, Jian just stared at her, caught off guard. It was the kind of scene he'd seen a hundred times in movies and read about in books—the pretty girl confessing her feelings to the star athlete. It was almost comical how predictable it was. It should have been flattering, exciting even. But all Jian felt was that same old emptiness, that sense that everything was happening the way it was supposed to. "Thanks," he said after a pause, managing a small smile. "That's... nice of you to say." Kimmy's face fell slightly, but she forced a smile. "I'm serious, Jian. I really like you." He nodded, swallowing the sigh that threatened to escape. "I know," he said. "And I appreciate it." Later that night, lying in bed, Jian couldn't stop replaying the moment in his head. It had been too easy, like everything else in his life. He hadn't had to work for it, hadn't had to struggle or fight. It was all just handed to him. He turned over, staring at the ceiling, wondering if he'd ever find something that didn't come easily. So tell him, why was his heart beating so fast at that moment on the court?