151: Chapter 151 Slam Dunk

After the game started, Chen Fan seemed like a different person.

He no longer went into the paint to wrestle with the number eight center; instead, he stood directly outside the three-point line and reached out for the ball.

The ball was passed from Zhang Yuhang, and Chen Fan shot as soon as he caught it; every shot went in.

The first three-pointer went in clean, the net fluttering slightly as if brushed by a breeze.

The second three-pointer was also a swish.

This time, Zhang Yang lunged forward, his fingers almost poking Chen Fan in the eyes, but the ball still flew steadily into the basket.

The third one—Zhang Yang's defense went from lunging forward to being unable to stop him even with a lunge.

Chen Fan pulled up for a jumper right over his head, his body leaning slightly back in the air. Zhang Yang jumped with all his might, but his fingertips were still a long way from the ball.

The fourth one—Zhang Yang went from being unable to stop him to not even bothering to lunge.

He stood outside the three-point line, watching Chen Fan raise his arms to shoot, his arm extending only symbolically, the contempt from the first half gone from his eyes.

The School of Finance called a timeout.

After the timeout, they started double-teaming Chen Fan.

Zhang Yang and number fourteen stood to his left and right, blocking Chen Fan like two doors. As soon as the ball reached Chen Fan's hands, the two of them pressed up against him, four hands waving in front of him, blocking almost all passing lanes.

Chen Fan didn't panic.

He dribbled to the right to break through, and Zhang Yang and number fourteen immediately followed, both shifting their centers of gravity to the right, like two doors opening in the same direction simultaneously.

At that exact moment, Chen Fan executed a sharp between-the-legs crossover. The ball bounced from his right hand to his left, and his body, as if yanked back by a spring, forcibly twisted direction to the left.

Zhang Yang and number fourteen couldn't recover their balance. Their feet tangled, and they collided with a dull thud.

Chen Fan, like a flash of white lightning, shot through the narrow gap between them.

Only the basket remained in front of him.

He took two steps, jumped, stretched his body out in the air, and with his right hand supporting the ball, gave it a gentle flick. The ball grazed the square on the backboard, banked in, and made a crisp "pop" sound.

The whole arena went quiet for a moment, then erupted into deafening cheers.

The School of Finance's offense began to fall apart.

Zhang Yang dribbled past half-court, only to be forced to the sideline by Chen Fan—Chen Fan's defense was like a net, tightening more and more. Zhang Yang dodged left and right, but he couldn't shake him off.

He made a reluctant pass, but the trajectory was too straight. Zhang Yuhang anticipated it, lunged forward, and intercepted it perfectly.

Zhang Yuhang didn't hesitate after the steal and immediately passed to Chen Fan.

Chen Fan started from the backcourt, going for a coast-to-coast fast break. He dribbled fast as the wind, with Zhang Yang chasing desperately behind him, his shoe soles screeching against the plastic court.

Zhang Yang caught up.

The moment Chen Fan jumped, Zhang Yang jumped with him, his arm raised high, swatting fiercely toward the ball—

Chen Fan switched hands in mid-air.

The ball moved from his right hand to his left, like magic, nimbly avoiding Zhang Yang's blocking hand. His body tilted slightly in the air, his left hand supporting the ball, and he gave it a gentle flick, the ball grazing the square on the backboard and banking in.

The moment the ball went in, the referee's whistle blew.

Defensive foul, basket counts, plus one free throw.

Chen Fan stood at the free-throw line, dribbled the ball, bent his knees slightly, and flicked his wrist—the ball went in clean.

The and-one was successful; the score was tied.

The entire crowd was in an uproar.

The seating area for the School of Management exploded like a pot of boiling water; some people stood up and clapped, some whistled, and some screamed at the top of their lungs, "Chen Fan, you're awesome!"

On the sidelines, Tang Tian stood on the steps, jumping up in excitement.

She held her water bottle over her head, shaking it vigorously, her eyes shining as if they held stars, shouting, "Chen Fan—so handsome—!"

Her pleated skirt fluttered lightly as she jumped, the hem tracing a lovely arc in the late autumn sunlight; she looked like a joyful little deer.

A male classmate standing next to her, wearing casual clothes with his hands in his pockets, was there to watch the game.

His name was Lin Yue, from Finance Class One.

He frowned, leaned over, and said with a tone of displeasure and jealousy, "Tang Tian, we're from the School of Finance. Why are you cheering for the School of Management?"

Tang Tian turned her head to look at him, the water bottle still shaking in her hand, the excited smile on her face not yet fading, but her eyes held a touch of righteousness.

She tilted her head, her voice crisp, "I'm in Finance Class One, not in the Economics class. What does it matter to me if their class wins or loses? Why should I cheer for them?"

Lin Yue was choked up, opening his mouth to say something, but Tang Tian had already turned back.

He stood there, watching Tang Tian's back, his heart feeling sour and bitter.

Tang Tian was the prettiest girl in their class.

From the first day of school, Lin Yue had noticed her—during military training, she stood in the front row, her skin glowing white, her eyes curving like two crescent moons when she smiled.

Among so many girls in the class, she was the most outstanding, like a pearl set among a pile of pebbles.

Naturally, Lin Yue had fallen for this girl.

However, he had never dared to express his feelings.

It wasn't that he didn't want to; he didn't dare.

He didn't know how to bring it up, nor did he know what the outcome would be after speaking.

He was afraid of being rejected, afraid that he wouldn't even be able to keep the "occasionally talking" relationship they had now.

So he kept holding back, thinking he would wait until the timing was right, wait until he was more outstanding, wait...

But what he waited for was Tang Tian standing on the sidelines, shouting "so handsome" for another boy.

At this moment, she was shouting "Go!" at that boy from the School of Management on the court, the light in her eyes brighter than ever.

The sour bitterness in Lin Yue's heart surged up, choking his throat.

He remembered the night of military training when Chen Fan performed opening a bottle with his abs during the platoon activity; all the girls' eyes had lit up.

He noticed that Tang Tian was watching too.

She was watching intently, her eyes fixed on the figure in front of the formation without blinking.

From that day on, Lin Yue had been somewhat unhappy with Chen Fan, even a bit jealous.

He turned to look at Tang Tian.

Her wavy hair swayed gently on her shoulders, the ends bouncing slightly, framing her fair profile; she was impossibly beautiful.

The afternoon sunlight hit her, casting a golden halo over her entire being, like a painting.

She held her water bottle in her hand and shouted sweetly at the back in the white jersey on the court: "Chen Fan—Go—!"

The voice was sweet and crisp, like the first bite of iced watermelon in summer.

Seeing this scene, Lin Yue felt even more uncomfortable.

He felt as if he had been cuckolded.

On the other side, the School of Finance called another timeout. After the timeout, they tried to slow down the pace, draining the clock to play set plays.

The number eight center asked for the ball in the paint, posting up against Chen Fan.

He dropped his shoulder and shoved hard twice—but Chen Fan didn't budge.

Chen Fan was like a rooted wall, firmly planted behind him, unmoving, not even shifting his center of gravity.