The match opened fast.
Class D won the tip-off, and the ball moved quickly through their hands, sharp passes cutting across the court before Class A could establish their defense. The crowd responded immediately, noise rising from the benches.
Zi Han watched with mild interest.
She had never been particularly invested in sports. Not in her previous life, and definitely not now.
Then Ming Ye got the ball.
There was nothing exaggerated about his movements, no unnecessary flair, no wasted effort, yet every move he made seemed calculated. He moved as though the pace of the game belonged to him alone, slipping past defenders with ease.
He drove toward the basket, feinted left, went right, and the ball went through the net without touching the rim.
The crowd erupted.
A group of girls near the front practically screamed.
"MING YE—!"
"Did you see that? That was so clean!"
"He's so handsome…"
"Ming Ye! Over here!"
