149: Chapter 149 The Competition Begins

On Chen Fan's team, a teammate wearing jersey number 11 was bending over, dribbling the ball. Upon hearing that shout of "Go Chen Fan," his movements paused for a second.

He looked up in the direction of the sound. He froze for two seconds, then nudged his teammate in the number 13 jersey next to him with his elbow: "Hey, isn't that the beautiful girl from the School of Finance who dances?"

Number 11 and number 13 were named Li Haoran and Zhou Yifei, respectively.

Zhou Yifei had been staring at the hoop, practicing his shooting form. Hearing this, he stopped, squinted for a moment, furrowed his brows slightly, and then suddenly relaxed them: "Yeah, it's the one who danced to 'Nobody' that night during military training. I remember."

"Yes, yes, yes, that's her." Li Haoran slapped his thigh, his eyes lighting up. Then he suddenly turned his head to look at Chen Fan, his eyes full of gossip and envy: "So why is she cheering for you? Do you know each other?"

Chen Fan was bending over to tie his shoelaces without even lifting his head, his tone as plain as if he were talking about a trivial matter: "Yeah, I know her."

Li Haoran and Zhou Yifei exchanged a glance, their eyes conveying a thousand unspoken words.

Li Haoran was 1.78 meters tall, and Zhou Yifei was 1.79 meters. Neither was particularly tall, but among ordinary students, their basketball skills were decent.

They had managed to win the previous few games, and although it was mainly thanks to Chen Fan carrying the whole team, the two of them did indeed make a small contribution—at least they didn't drag the team down.

At this moment, Li Haoran looked at Chen Fan's calm face and couldn't help but sigh inwardly: Being handsome really makes a difference; beautiful women just throw themselves at him.

He opened his mouth, about to say something sour, but the referee on the court had already blown the whistle.

"Beep—"

The sharp whistle pierced the air, and players from both sides walked toward the center circle.

The game began.

The tip-off. Chen Fan stood at the center circle, facing the center from the School of Finance, that 1.92-meter-tall guy.

During this period, Chen Fan had grown another centimeter, reaching a height of 1.86 meters, but compared to the School of Finance center in front of him, he was still a bit shorter.

The referee tossed the ball high into the air.

Both of them jumped almost at the same time.

Although the opponent was taller than Chen Fan, he wasn't that much taller.

However, Chen Fan's jump height and speed far exceeded his.

The School of Finance center stretched his arms desperately, his fingertips straining upward, but he could only watch helplessly as Chen Fan's hand touched the ball first.

That palm touched the ball firmly, and with a gentle flick, the ball changed direction and flew precisely toward Zhou Yifei.

Zhou Yifei caught the ball steadily and dribbled across the half-court line.

This time, Chen Fan did not take over the offense right from the start like in the previous few games.

Mainly because the opponent in this game was different.

The number 8 center on the opposing team was the main scorer for the School of Finance, with a height of 1.92 meters, solid post skills, the ability to finish with both hands, and a decent mid-range jump shot.

In the previous few games, he had averaged over twenty points and double-digit rebounds, which was the core reason the Economics class was able to make it all the way to the school tournament.

So Chen Fan's plan was simple—limit him first. As long as number 8 was shut down, the School of Finance's offense would collapse by half.

He went to the paint, established position, and firmly blocked the opposing number 8 center behind him.

Zhou Yifei held the ball at the arc, looked up at the defense in the middle, and finding the paint tightly clogged, he passed the ball to Li Haoran on the wing.

Li Haoran caught the ball, faked a shot, caught the defender off balance, then dribbled once and pulled up for a jump shot.

The ball hit the back rim with a dull thud and bounced up.

Chen Fan and the opposing number 8 both saw where the ball would land and jumped at almost the same moment.

They collided in mid-air, their bodies slamming firmly into each other. Chen Fan dropped his shoulder, pushed the number 8 center away, jumped with both feet, extended his arms straight, and firmly grabbed the rebound at the highest point.

The opposing center stumbled upon landing, losing his balance and nearly falling.

Meanwhile, Chen Fan stood firmly on the ground, his knees slightly bent to absorb the impact of the landing, his body motionless.

After grabbing the rebound, Chen Fan didn't dribble the ball up the court himself. He glanced at the front court, flicked his wrist, and passed the ball to Li Haoran, who was already sprinting down the court.

Li Haoran caught the ball, dribbled twice, caught sight of Zhou Yifei on the wing with his peripheral vision, and immediately passed it to him.

Zhou Yifei caught the ball, faced the defender, and used a crossover and acceleration to drive into the paint. He created half a step of space and pulled up for a jump shot near the free-throw line—the ball hit the front rim and bounced out.

By this time, Chen Fan had already run from the backcourt to near the free-throw line. Seeing the ball bounce off the rim, he didn't slow down, but charged directly toward the basket and jumped with both feet.

The ball was still spinning in the air as it fell, but Chen Fan's hand had already reached the highest point.

He firmly grabbed the rebound, and without letting his body land, he jumped again—

His body leaned back slightly, avoiding the defender chasing from behind to block the shot, and with a gentle flick of his wrist, the ball brushed against the square on the backboard and dropped softly into the net.

"Swish."

Instantly, a cheer erupted from the sidelines. The audience area for the School of Management was boiling; some people stood up and applauded, some whistled, and others shouted at the top of their lungs, "Chen Fan is awesome!"

After steadying himself, the number 8 center turned around and looked at Chen Fan, a glimmer of seriousness flashing in his eyes.

He quickly calculated in his mind; his strength was the greatest on the School of Finance team, and usually, when establishing position in the paint, no one had ever been able to push him away.

But just a moment ago, when Chen Fan dropped his shoulder, he felt as if he had been hit by a small truck, and his body had involuntarily veered outward.

Moreover, Chen Fan's vertical jump was also very strong; he jumped a full body length higher than him.

This kind of jumping ability, even among the school team members, probably few could achieve it.

To be honest, he hadn't paid much attention to Chen Fan before the game.

But now he understood that he was wrong.

Chen Fan was indeed a difficult opponent, and the kind of opponent that gives people a massive headache.

The School of Finance inbounded the ball.

Number 23—the one who had mocked Chen Fan before the game, saying "Careful, don't blow your own horn too hard"—received the ball from the backcourt and slowly dribbled across the half-court line.

He glanced at Zhou Yifei, who was defending him, and the corners of his mouth curled slightly.

Zhou Yifei's physique wasn't as good as his, and his speed wasn't as fast as his. In his view, this matchup was a natural offensive opportunity.

Number 23 signaled his teammates to clear out, intending to play one-on-one against Zhou Yifei.

He dribbled closer, crossed the ball between his legs, changed direction, and accelerated—he blew past Zhou Yifei in one step, as cleanly and neatly as if passing a wooden post, and drove straight to the basket.

Seeing Chen Fan helping on defense in the paint, a hint of contempt flashed in his eyes.

The hoop was right in front of him; he jumped, went for a layup, and gently flicked the ball with his fingers, preparing to send it into the basket.

The ball had just left his fingertips.

A dark shadow lunged over from the side.