Chapter 11: The Golden Age

Ling Huanzhen had long passed his prime playing years. In recent two years, plagued by injuries, he had countless times considered retirement, only to be persuaded to stay by the national team, who hoped he would mentor the younger generation. Yet, the glory of the basketball world had never again reached the heights of the Sheng Xingming era.

Ling Huanzhen, fighting alone... perhaps he had finally reached his limit.

For a moment, the three roommates fell silent. They pulled out their phones to check the trending topics on Weibo. Within minutes, Ling Huanzhen’s name appeared seven times in the top ten trending searches. Countless comments lamented that his retirement marked the final curtain call for the golden age of men’s basketball.

Zhou Zhexiao leaned back against the ladder quietly digesting the news of “Ling Huanzhen’s retirement.”

A hero’s twilight—if Sheng Xingming were still alive, he might have faced the same fate.

Suddenly, someone tugged at him. Xia Chiyi’s voice whispered in his ear, “Come closer!”

“Hm?” Zhou Zhexiao didn’t understand what was wanted.

Xia Chiyi lightly bumped his shoulder and handed him a wireless earphone.

Zhou Zhexiao looked at the small device in his palm. At the airport, he had noticed almost every young man had such earphones.

“Why aren’t you wearing it? Left ear…” Seeing Zhou Zhexiao’s blank expression, Xia Chiyi took it back, brushed aside the hair near his ear, and gently inserted the earphone.

Xia Chiyi’s fingertip was warm, fleeting like a wing brushing past Zhou Zhexiao’s ear.

Then came a long-missed voice through the earphones. Ling Huanzhen had shed his youthful sharpness; now, the voice carried the weight and calmness forged by time.

Xia Chiyi handed his phone to Zhou Zhexiao. On the small screen, thirty-seven-year-old Ling Huanzhen sat before the camera. This would be his final public appearance in a team uniform.

The speech began with the usual expressions of gratitude—thanks to fans, the basketball association, coaches, opponents.

His speech was brief, reflecting on his more than twenty years of journey and achievements. Ling Huanzhen’s expression remained calm and steady until the end, when his eyes suddenly reddened and his voice choked with emotion.

“Finally, I want to say I am still unwilling to let go. After ten years, I have not reached your achievements, nor have I been able to bring Chinese men’s basketball to a higher, farther place. How I hope... that the one giving the retirement speech here today is you. I hope in my lifetime to witness an era that surpasses yours.”

Ling Huanzhen did not name that person, but all the veterans, coaches, and even the media in attendance had tears welling in their eyes.

Putting down the phone, the roommates were silent.

Xiao Pang glanced at his roommates, scratching the back of his head, “Though I don’t watch basketball, I know Ling Huanzhen has worked hard to develop new talent these past years. Unfortunately, the gap in talent is huge; he simply couldn’t carry the team. Injuries plagued him... now finally he can rest.”

Ye Chaoying tilted his head back, closed his eyes, and exhaled deeply. “Ah... I used to be a hater of Ling Huanzhen. Just three months ago, I was still criticizing him online.”

“What did you criticize him for?” Xia Chiyi asked.

“His mid-range shot was terrible! When Jiao Yingfeng was shooting threes, Ling’s weakness wasn’t so obvious. But after Jiao retired due to injury, Ling’s poor mid-range became glaring,” Ye Chaoying explained.

“No need to criticize him... Imagine how painful it must have been for him to hear that,” Xiao Pang sympathized.

“Indeed, it was awful. But his rebounding was unmatched in the CBA,” Zhou Zhexiao said. “And though his shooting was poor, in the most critical moments, he always made the shots. Besides being called the ‘King of Bricks,’ he also had another nickname.”

Xiao Pang asked curiously, “What nickname?”

“Mr. Clutch. The more critical the moment, the more likely he was to score. In international games, there was an unspoken rule.”

“Hey, don’t leave us hanging! What rule?” Xiao Pang’s eyes widened with curiosity.

Zhou Zhexiao explained, “In a 40-minute game, for the first 37 minutes, Ling Huanzhen could shoot all he wanted—he wouldn’t score anyway. But in the last three minutes, opponents guarded him tightly, making sure he never got a clutch shot off.”

“Sounds impressive. Mr. Clutch...” Xia Chiyi was surprised, sensing Zhou Zhexiao only praised those truly outstanding.

“Though I don’t regret criticizing him now, the curtain falling on the golden generation... it’s really heartbreaking,” Ye Chaoying added.

---

Xia Chiyi looked at his phone seriously and said, “The curtain has fallen, but another prologue will begin.”

Zhou Zhexiao glanced over. The young man’s face, still carrying traces of youth, suddenly seemed filled with strength, as if following his gaze, one could hear the roar of the top-tier arenas.

That night, the four roommates lay on their beds chatting about basketball and the provincial team selections.

Xiao Pang hugged his blanket, whining that he never expected to share a room with three basketball greats, while he was the least useful.

Xia Chiyi grinned, lying on the edge of the bed. “Xiao Pang, you’re very important. Without you, no one would use the bottom shelf in the bathroom!”

It wasn’t very hurtful but strongly insulting. Xiao Pang clung to his blanket, whining further.

“Can any of you explain the five positions in basketball? There are two guards, but what’s the difference? And forwards are divided into small and power forwards! What does a center do? Is it the same as a soccer center forward?”

Ye Chaoying scratched the back of his head. “You don’t play basketball either, so how do I explain?”

Xia Chiyi laughed. “Pang, do you play games?”

“Yeah.”

“Then let me explain with games. Think of a basketball game as a five-player team. The point guard is like the strongest support role—needs to dribble skillfully and be fast. Not the top scorer, but the commander on the court, organizing tactics, passing, and creating scoring chances.”

After Xia Chiyi spoke, Ye Chaoying jumped in eagerly. “The shooting guard is like a sniper, lurking near the three-point line, shooting with deadly accuracy. This position also needs agile movement to find open shots.”

Pang listened like a novice player, his expression like a primary school student.

Xia Chiyi continued, “The small forward is like an assassin. Basketball is his dagger. Once he gets the dagger, he ‘flash steps’ into the opponent’s paint to score, score, and score again!”

Pang nodded vigorously. “So the small forward is the team’s top scorer?”

“Just think of it that way,” Xia Chiyi said, stroking his chin. “The center is usually the tallest player, like the tank in a game. Mainly responsible for defense—blocking shots, grabbing rebounds.”

“The power forward, called the ‘second center’ here, grabs rebounds, defends, and sets screens—like the team’s second tank.”

“Got it, got it!” Pang nodded enthusiastically.

Xia Chiyi laughed. “You don’t really get it. Those are traditional roles. In modern basketball, positions are very fluid. Top teams have players who can play support, snipe, assassinate, and even crash like tanks.”

Pang looked at Xia Chiyi and Ye Chaoying, exhaling deeply, “You guys have it so hard!”

“Ha, hard but fun,” they replied.

“Hey, is Zhou Zhexiao asleep? He hasn’t said a word,” Ye Chaoying asked.

Xia Chiyi immediately turned over, propped on his pillow, and poked the top of Zhou Zhexiao’s slightly curly hair.

“I’ve never played games, so I have nothing to say,” Zhou Zhexiao answered slowly.

“You’re kidding. League of Legends? Honor of Kings?”

“No.”

Pang asked, “Then... CrossFire?”

“No.”

Ye Chaoying slapped his thigh. “You grew up in America, right? You must’ve played World of Warcraft!”

“No.”

“No Warcraft either? Then... Contra?”

“No.”

Suddenly, Xia Chiyi broke the chat circle, asking, “Have you ever liked anyone?”

Pang and Ye Chaoying’s eyes lit up, thinking Zhou Zhexiao must be popular in America.

Zhou Zhexiao answered plainly, “No.”

Three sighs echoed from the room.

Ye Chaoying asked again, “What do you usually play?”

“Basketball.”

Ye Chaoying covered his face. “What a dull life! Basketball, basketball, what else is there in your life besides basketball?”

“Nothing.”

It might have been a trick of the mind, but Zhou Zhexiao’s final “nothing” seemed to pause just a moment longer.

Xia Chiyi couldn’t tell if it was his imagination, but that word sounded hollow.

Given Zhou Zhexiao’s former playboy ways, it was almost impossible he never played games.

He probably... just forgot.

Xia Chiyi recalled the rules his mother sent him—no, “precautions” from her “Zhou Zhexiao Care Manual.” The third rule was: never let him feel out of place among others.

Before he could say anything, Ye Chaoying beat him to it. “No way, Zhou Zhexiao—life without gaming is incomplete! This weekend, I’ll take you to the internet cafe for duo queue!”

“I’ll be practicing basketball this weekend,” Zhou Zhexiao refused simply and directly.

Ye Chaoying was stung. “What? You practice basketball on weekends? Please rest a bit!”

“Practice can’t stop,” Zhou Zhexiao replied. “Ye Chaoying, you have to accept that in this life, before you reach the level of raw talent, you have already lost.”

“Huh?”

“Because you’re not working hard enough.”

“Hey! Xia Chiyi, you handle him!”

“Okay, I’m on it now.” Xia Chiyi reached through the headboard bars and ruffled Zhou Zhexiao’s hair.

Zhou Zhexiao didn’t move until he heard Xia Chiyi say, “I’ll practice basketball with you this weekend.”

Soft but sincere.

Xia Chiyi turned away, lying back down, the scent of orange shower gel filling the air.

Though his taste buds hadn’t touched anything sweet, from his heart to his fingertips, Zhou Zhexiao felt as if a subtle sweetness had seeped through.

Gradually, Ye Chaoying and Xiao Pang fell asleep, their breaths rising and falling in the quiet dorm.

Xia Chiyi was alone under the blanket, scrolling through videos on his phone, growing increasingly wide awake.

His bed was head-to-head with Zhou Zhexiao’s. Worried that the glow from his phone might disturb his roommate’s sleep, Xia Chiyi turned over onto his pillow and, through the bed’s headboard, observed him.