148: Chapter 148 Confronting the Economics Major

In the blink of an eye, three days had passed.

Friday, 4:00 PM, at the Chang'an Jiaotong University basketball court.

Usually, at this time, it was just a place where boys gathered to play basketball.

But today, it seemed crowded.

Today was the match between the School of Management and the School of Finance.

On the School of Management side was Chen Fan's Business Administration Class 01, while on the School of Finance side was the Economics major.

Although it was just a freshman basketball game, both classes still took the match very seriously.

The area around the court was already packed with people, men and women, a solid sea of heads.

Most were students from Business Administration and Economics, but there were also many from other majors in the School of Finance and the School of Management who had come to join the fun.

Some held up homemade cheering signs, some had their phones ready to record, and others had come specifically because they heard there would be a "clash of experts."

Chen Fan was wearing a white basketball uniform, and the number 24 on his back was particularly conspicuous in the sunlight.

Zhao Zitong stood beside him, clutching a bottle of mineral water, and hesitated for a moment when she handed it over: "Do you have confidence?"

"Don't worry, no problem." Chen Fan took the water, unscrewed the cap, took a gulp, and said nonchalantly.

Zhao Zitong was not as relaxed as him; her gaze crossed the crowd and landed on a tall figure on the opposite half of the court: "The number 8 on the other side is quite good; you need to take him seriously."

Chen Fan followed her gaze and looked over. A boy about 1.9 meters tall, with broad shoulders and back and well-defined arm muscles, was lazily doing stretches while holding a basketball in one hand.

He was wearing a dark red jersey, and the number 8 on his chest was particularly eye-catching.

This guy looked like an athlete, but he happened to be studying Economics, making him a bit of an oddity in the School of Finance.

Chen Fan took a couple more looks, but that was it. It wasn't that he was arrogant; it was just that the basketball level of these ordinary college students was simply too far behind his own current level.

In terms of technique, Chen Fan possessed the skills of a starting professional player, and they were all-around skills at that.

Besides technique, physically—aside from height—Chen Fan's physical fitness could be considered crushing, to the point where even in the CBA, there was no one to compare him to.

Therefore, Chen Fan was not blindly confident; his confidence was built on absolute strength.

As for this number 8 on the other side, while he looked sturdy, his level was only top-tier among ordinary students; compared to those on the school team, he was still a notch below.

"I can crush them." Chen Fan withdrew his gaze, his tone as flat as if he were stating a fact.

"Be careful not to brag yourself into a corner."

An untimely voice cut in from the side, carrying undisguised mockery.

Chen Fan and Zhao Zitong both turned their heads at the same time. A boy wearing a dark blue number 23 jersey was standing two steps away, hands in his pockets, chin slightly raised, looking at Chen Fan with disdain.

This guy was over 1.8 meters tall, with broad shoulders and solid arm muscles, and there was a faint old scar on his forearm; it was clear at a glance that he was someone who played often and had engaged in plenty of physical confrontations.

He had originally intended to go to the opposite half to check out the lineup, but he hadn't expected to hear Chen Fan's words, "I can crush them," as soon as he got close. His anger flared up instantly, and he retorted on the spot.

"Who are you?" Zhao Zitong's reaction was even faster than Chen Fan's. She stepped forward, blocking the space between Chen Fan and the boy, her voice not loud but filled with fire, "What we say has nothing to do with you!"

The boy glanced at Zhao Zitong, but his gaze lingered on her for less than half a second before moving away. His hands remained in his pockets, and his tone was airy, as if he were talking about something insignificant: "I'm just giving a reminder; don't brag so loudly now, only to look bad when you lose. After all—" He paused, the corners of his mouth lifting slightly, "there are quite a lot of people these days who like to brag."

"You—" Zhao Zitong's temper flared up instantly, her body leaning forward slightly as if she were about to rush forward.

Chen Fan reached out to stop her and walked forward unhurriedly, standing face-to-face with the boy, his gaze steady and unwavering.

"Don't worry," Chen Fan said, his voice not loud, "I will make you all cry."

The boy was stunned for a moment, then burst out laughing.

"Fine, then I'll wait and see how you make us cry."

Seeing the boy walk away, the fierce expression on Zhao Zitong's face slowly faded, replaced by a hint of hesitation.

She turned to look at Chen Fan and asked somewhat insecurely: "Chen Fan, can we win?"

Chen Fan glanced at her, the corners of his mouth lifting slightly: "Class monitor, weren't you quite fierce just now? Why are you chickening out now?"

"How could I chicken out? I was just asking."

Chen Fan flexed his wrists, his knuckles making a faint cracking sound, his tone as casual as if he were commenting on the weather: "Don't worry, I said we would win, so we will win."

He didn't say anything more and turned to walk onto the court.

Soon, the warm-up for both sides ended, and the referee blew the whistle for them to assemble.

The players from both sides walked toward the center of the court, their footsteps making dull thuds on the plastic surface.

"Chen Fan, go for it!"

Just then, a sweet female voice came from the sidelines, carrying a soft, glutinous lilt, like a pebble thrown into a calm lake.

Chen Fan turned his head to look—it was Tang Tian.

She was wearing a creamy white loose hoodie today, with the cuffs extending slightly to cover half the back of her hands, making her fingers look even more slender.

Below that was a dark gray pleated miniskirt, the hem swaying gently a few centimeters above her knees, revealing a section of leg wrapped in flesh-colored pantyhose.

Her hair was loose, the ends slightly curled, draped over her shoulders.

She wore white sneakers, and she looked soft and sweet, like someone who had walked out of a Japanese fashion magazine.

She stood by the sidelines, holding a bottle of water, waved at him, and smiled with her eyes curved like two crescent moons.

As soon as she called out, the atmosphere on and off the court changed instantly.

In this day and age, there were very few girls at Chang'an Jiaotong University who knew how to dress up, and even fewer who were both pretty and fashionable.

And after seeing such a beautiful girl outside the court.

The players, who had been warming up lazily, all straightened their backs in unison.

Some took two extra shots from outside the three-point line;

Some secretly flexed their wrists, while taking the opportunity to pull on the hem of their jerseys and tuck the loose corners into their waistbands;

And some bent over to retie their shoelaces, even though they were already tied very tightly.

Everyone was silently planning in their hearts to show off their skills properly once the game started.

The dribbling had to be flashy, the shooting had to be graceful, and it would be best to pull off a coast-to-coast layup, leaving a handsome silhouette under the gaze of all the spectators, especially that pretty girl.

On the School of Finance side, the number 23 boy who had mocked Chen Fan earlier lowered his voice and said to the teammate beside him: "Pass the ball to me later; I'm going to dunk one."

The teammate glanced at him expressionlessly: "Dunk your ass. When have you ever made a dunk before?"

"Then pass the ball to me; I'll shoot a three-pointer."

"Do you even have a ten percent three-point shooting percentage?"

"Shut up," number 23 gritted his teeth, "I'll definitely make it today."