he second set was already halfway through—six minutes gone. And they were getting crushed.
2-8.
It was obvious they were going to lose.
Xu Lingwei and Lin Zeyan coordinated with Hua Rong, and sometimes even Wuhao Li, but the rest of the team? They acted as if she didn't exist. Like passing the ball to her was beneath them.
And the audience? They weren't missing a single opportunity to mock them. Every fumble, every missed shot, every stolen pass—they laughed, their jeers slicing through the court like knives.
The ball came her way. Hua Rong ran.
Dribbling, moving fast, determined.
But just as she thought she had control, the ball slipped from her hands. Again.
Luckily, Lin Zeyan recovered it in time. But it didn't matter.
They couldn't even get close to the net, let alone score.
And then, as if the humiliation wasn't enough, it happened.
The moment they were all dreading.
Xu Wenhan snapped.
When Wuhao Li's lazy pass got stolen for the third time, he lost it.
"What are you doing?!" Xu Wenhan's voice boomed across the court. His face was red with anger. "Can't even hold the ball properly?!"
Wuhao Li scoffed, his hands casually on his hips. "Tch. Like you're any better."
That only made Xu Wenhan angrier. His jaw clenched, and he stormed toward Wuhao, shoving him. "What?! Say that again!"
"I said you're a loser," Wuhao Li sneered.
Xu Wenhan grabbed Wuhao by the jersey, his knuckles turning white.
"Enough!" Xu Lingwei stepped between them, forcing them apart.
"As your captain, I can't allow this," he said firmly.
"Stay out of this," Xu Wenhan growled, his patience running thin.
"Xu Wenhan, calm down!" Zinchen Liu joined in, trying to defuse the tension. "Guys, we're in the middle of a match—this is embarrassing!"
But Xu Wenhan wasn't listening. His eyes burned with frustration
And I had enough.
"Why?" Hua Rong spoke up, stepping forward.
Xu Wenhan turned to her, glaring.
"Why are you angry?" she asked again. "Is it because Wuhao let the ball slip? Or is it because you think we're going to lose miserably?"
His expression hardened, but he didn't answer.
"Why do you even want to win?" she continued. "You didn't even bother showing up when we were practicing!"
The others shifted uncomfortably. Some glanced away.
she pressed on. "We all knew this match was impossible to win. Then why are we acting so desperate? Making mistakes that even beginners wouldn't?"
Xu Wenhan's nostrils flared. "Because I don't want to be a joke!"
"Too late for that," Wuhao muttered under his breath. Zinchen shot him a glare.
Hua Rong ignored them. "That's it? Your pride? That's why you're acting like this?"
No one spoke. But she wasn't done.
"We're not professionals," she said. "We're good at other things—but not this. And yet, we were sent here anyway."
Wuhao's smirk faltered slightly.
"Do you think a player who doesn't even know how to play gets a chance to stand on this court? No. But we did." she exhaled. "And instead of enjoying this moment, instead of appreciating this opportunity, we're throwing tantrums like spoiled kids?"
The referee signaled—the timeout was almost over.
she turned away. "I don't know about the rest of you," I said, "but I no longer care about winning this match. I just want to play. Because I've seen people fight—struggle—just to get the chance to stand here. And when they do, they don't act like this. They shine."
Silence.
Then, after a long pause, Wuhao let out a small chuckle.
"Well, damn," he muttered. "That actually made sense."
Zinchen sighed, rubbing the back of his head. "She's got a point... we've been acting pathetic."
Lin Zeyan simply nodded.
Xu Wenhan scowled—but he didn't argue.
The referee's whistle shrieked.
Timeout over.
The moment they stepped back onto the court, something had changed.
They weren't playing to win anymore.
They were playing to enjoy.
"Qi Luoyan, now!" Chen Zhaoyang's voice cut through the court as he passed the ball.
The ball flipped midair—Hua Rong's eyes followed it. It wasn't like some miracle had suddenly happened. They weren't playing any better than before. The passes were still sloppy, the coordination still shaky. But there was a difference.
It was lighthearted.
"Han Xinyang, over here!"
Han Xinyang caught the ball, barely managing to grip it before throwing it in Hua Rong's direction.
"Go for it!" he called out.
And this time—they weren't ignoring her.
She grinned. Finally.
Hua Rong sprinted forward, weaving between defenders, not to score—but just to move, to feel the rhythm of the game.
The second set ended before they knew it.
And finally—the third set.
Unlike normal matches, this one required all three sets to be played, no matter the outcome.
And in this set, they weren't trying to score.
They were trying to stop the opponent from scoring.
Defense. That was their game now.
And somehow, it was fun.
Laughter replaced frustration. Mistakes weren't humiliating anymore—they were hilarious.
"Damn it, Lin Zeyan! That was an easy block!" Qi Luoyan groaned as Lin Zeyan completely missed a pass.
Lin Zeyan rubbed his neck. "My bad, my bad."
"That's the third time!"
"At least I tried!"
Xu Lingwei shook his head, smirking. "Can't believe this is the same team that was about to punch each other a few minutes ago."
Not everyone enjoyed the shift.
Xu Wenhan remained stiff, barely speaking, still burning with frustration. He hated losing.
But the others?
They were having the time of their lives.
The final whistle blew.
The match was over.
They had lost. Miserably.
But none of them cared.
Lying on the court, drenched in sweat, Hua Rong felt exhaustion wash over her. Her legs refused to move.
But her face?
It was smiling.
She turned her head—her eyes landing on Lin Zeyan.
And for the first time in a long while—he was smiling too.
She had almost forgotten what it looked like. The way his lips curled up—not a smirk, not a grin—just a simple, genuine smile.
Just like the first time they had met.
They pushed themselves off the floor, moving sluggishly as they approached the opposing team. Handshakes. Nods. Mutters of 'good game.'
The audience didn't cheer for them.
But they didn't mock them either.
Hua Rong exhaled. That was enough.
Jian looked down at the court from the stadium seats, his brows furrowed in confusion. His fingers tapped against the railing as he watched the exhausted team grinning instead of hanging their heads in shame.
"Weren't they supposed to be humiliated?" he muttered, unable to make sense of it.
Beside him, Shen Jiayi narrowed her eyes, arms crossed as she observed the scene below. "Seems like your method isn't working with this batch," she remarked with a smirk.
Jian scoffed. "Huh? Then what do I do now?"
She chuckled, turning on her heel to leave. "Think about it," she said, the amusement in her tone unmistakable.
Without another word, she strode away to guide the students outside, leaving him standing there, watching the so-called "losers" walk off the court as if they had won something after all.
...
As they stepped out of the court and changed into their academy uniforms, Hua Rong and the team followed Teacher Jiayi down the hallway. The atmosphere was still heavy with exhaustion, but a strange sense of relief lingered after the match.
Just as they turned a corner, a familiar voice rang out.
"Oh, look how happy you are after losing."
Lin Zeyan's steps slowed as he recognized the voices of his old classmates.
"I thought you would change after transferring," another one sneered. "But some people never do."
Hua Song, already fuming, stepped forward in anger, but Lin Zeyan calmly grabbed her wrist, stopping her in her tracks.
"Oh? You even made loser friends?" one of them taunted.
Lin Zeyan tilted his head slightly and took a step forward, looking at them with a clueless expression. "Who are you people?"
The smug expressions on their faces faltered.
"Don't act cocky!" one of them snapped. "Don't pretend like you don't know us!"
Lin Zeyan let out a small hum of amusement. "No, it's not that I don't remember your faces—of course, I do. The faces of you two after getting beaten up by me, and the pathetic act you pulled in front of the teacher... That part, I remember perfectly. But your names?" He narrowed his eyes slightly, tilting his head. "Now that's a blur."
One of them, his face twisting in anger, stepped forward, his fists clenched.
But before he could do anything, Wuhao Li casually moved in front of Lin Zeyan, his voice calm but firm. "We're not here to fight." He let out a small chuckle. "And honestly, we're pretty sure you two don't want to be beaten up by a bunch of 'losers,' right?"
His words hit their mark. The two hesitated, frustration evident in their expressions, but after a tense second, they stepped aside, letting them pass
As they reached the grand entrance of Anhua high School, Teacher Jiayi turned to the group and asked, "Are you ready?"
Hua Song blinked in confusion. "For what?" she asked.
Jiayi smiled gently. "Not for you. For them."
Before anyone could question further, the moment they stepped outside, a chaotic wave of flashing lights and loud voices erupted. The school entrance was packed with reporters, photographers, and paparazzi, their cameras clicking rapidly as they shoved microphones forward.
The sudden brightness was overwhelming. Lin Zeyan instinctively grabbed Hua Rong's wrist and pulled her aside. "We're not needed here," he muttered, steering her away from the frenzy.
From a safe distance, she watched as the media swarmed around Wuhao Li, Qi Luoyan, Chen Zhaoyang, Guo Tianlie, Xu Wenhan, and Xu Lingwei. The reporters bombarded them with questions, eager to capture statements from the sons of influential families.
"Well, they are the sons of wealthy and powerful families," Han Xinyung said, leaning against the gate. "Of course, the media wants to talk to them." He exhaled, watching the scene unfold. "This always happens."
Hua Rong's eyes remained fixed on Xu Lingwei. Unlike the others, he barely spoke, answering only in short phrases while maintaining a composed expression. There was something about his quiet presence amidst the chaos that caught her attention.
Lin Zeyan, noticing her unwavering stare, spoke casually. "He's the son of Xu Qingshan, the chairman of the Xu Conglomerate."
"I know that," Hua Rong murmured, her gaze still locked on him
Just then, a girl Hua Rong recognized stepped forward from the sidelines, effortlessly weaving through the swarm of reporters. Without hesitation, she reached for Xu Lingwei's wrist and pulled him away from the flashing cameras.
She was dressed in a sleek, off-shoulder black midi dress, hugging her frame with effortless elegance. A thin silver belt cinched at her waist, accentuating her figure, while her designer heels clicked softly against the pavement. Everything about her screamed wealth and refinement, from the way she carried herself to the subtle yet expensive jewelry adorning her wrists.
As soon as they were away from the chaos, she turned to Xu Lingwei with a worried expression. "Are you okay?" she asked, her voice gentle yet filled with concern. It was clear she knew how much he despised this kind of attention.
Hua Rong, who had been watching from the distance, suddenly looked away. Something about the sight of them together made her chest tighten, but she refused to acknowledge it. Instead, she exhaled sharply and shifted her focus elsewhere, pretending she hadn't seen anything at all.