Chapter 78: The Final Shot and a Fading Smile

With Old Han’s flawless performance, the first half officially concluded, leaving her team ahead by a single point.

Huang Li, beaming with delight, patted her shoulder and guided her back to the players’ bench. The boys on the stage erupted in jeers upon seeing Huang Li touch their ‘Han Sis’ shoulder, but Old Han remained unfazed, simply lowering her head to twist open her water bottle and take a drink.

Huang Li, however, turned to them with a triumphant smirk.

The second half commenced, and the opposing players huddled together, whispering their strategy. Once the game resumed, their focus became unequivocally centered on Old Han. Three players were assigned to mark her, one remained inside for rebounds, and another was tasked with defending Huang Li. Under such relentless pressure, Old Han found herself unable to even touch the ball, let alone attempt a layup.

The spectators murmured amongst themselves.

Such a defensive strategy seemed to completely disregard the other players on the court.

As anticipated, the tall, thin boy on Old Han’s team flushed crimson. Seizing the moment when Huang Li passed the ball and no one was guarding him, he initiated a three-step layup.

Yet, the opposing team’s 1.9-meter-tall rebounder was clearly no amateur. With a casual flick of his hand, he blocked the shot, then smoothly caught the ball and passed it to the perimeter. Old Han’s team had lost possession once more.

The opponents resumed their exquisite teamwork. The stout player dribbled the ball, while the guard maneuvered into position. Once set, a simple raise of the hand resulted in an inside bank shot, securing another point.

Consequently, Old Han was rendered largely ineffective, her role reduced to drawing three defenders while attempting to create scoring opportunities for Huang Li and the others. The team’s inherent weakness had finally been exposed: their scoring was overly reliant on Huang Li and Old Han, with the remaining players lacking sufficient skill.

Even when Huang Li tried to penetrate their defense, the opposing forward was simply too formidable. Not only was he virtually impossible to get past, but the opposing power forward under the basket was a true anomaly. At 1.9 meters tall, a mere raise of his hand effectively sealed off the rebound, making any layup attempts futile.

Though my gaze was fixed on the court, my mind had long since drifted from the game. Beside me, Grandfather suddenly began to cough.

I quickly turned to find him removing his oxygen mask, bending over, and coughing strenuously.

Alarmed, I hastily patted his back. After a moment, Grandfather weakly waved his hand, his voice soft. “It’s nothing serious, just a bit of phlegm I needed to get out.”

After his coughing fit, Grandfather’s already pale face appeared even more devoid of color, almost ashen. He slumped languidly on the bench, his breaths shallow and rapid, as if he were taking in more air than he exhaling.

I stood up and spoke softly. “Grandfather, let’s go back to the hospital.”

The old man remained silent, merely shaking his head.

I reached out, intending to retrieve his oxygen mask.

He gently pressed my hand down, his voice barely a whisper. “No need to go back to the hospital. There’s no point anymore.”

I took a deep breath, my voice trembling. “Grandfather… then you must hold on, hold on, please hold on. Old Han hasn’t won yet, she hasn’t finished the game… She said she’d win a championship, and she’s definitely going to win one for you.”

Grandfather offered me a weak smile.

“Participation is what matters… winning or losing isn’t important.”

“When I was as young as you… I spent my whole life competing with others,” Grandfather whispered. “But in old age, there’s no need… For me, just being here is enough.”

“Xiao Lu, from now on, remember this when you deal with people and navigate the world… temper your arrogance, or else… things will be difficult for you later on.”

My heart trembled, and I murmured, “I understand.”

Just then, the referee’s whistle echoed across the court, signaling the end of the second half.

Old Han’s team had lost by one point, bringing the score to a 1-1 tie.

Grandfather’s breathing grew increasingly shallow. He squinted, seemingly trying with all his might to keep his eyes open.

Bright sunlight filtered through the gaps in the leaves, falling upon Grandfather and me.

I remembered being in elementary or middle school, playing chess with Grandfather under a similar canopy of trees. My parents were working abroad then, and as a child without a mother, I was often mocked by the neighborhood kids, which made me quiet. Cicadas buzzed in the trees, and once, in my youth, I made a terrible move, so angry I nearly smashed the chessboard. Grandfather said nothing, only smiled.

The game on the court became a fierce deadlock once more. Grandfather’s eyes were half-closed.

The shouts around me seemed to suddenly congeal, indistinct, as if separated by a film.

The swift rebounder slowly extended their hand, the basketball descending languidly through the air, and the spectators in the stands widened their eyes, either gasping or cheering.

On the brightly lit court, the score widened, then narrowed, until it was tied. The game gradually approached its climax, and the audience, hoarse from shouting, watched every movement on the court with wide eyes, afraid to miss even a fraction of a second.

At this critical moment, Huang Li finally seized possession of the ball, passing it to Old Han.

In that instant, Old Han did not hesitate.

The moment the ball reached her hands, Old Han executed a swift fake, eluding the burly forward in front of her, followed by a fluid behind-the-back dribble.

Her lips were pressed together, her eyes devoid of emotion. She performed two more probing fakes, moving like a cobra dancing in the wind.

After two rapid changes of direction, she shook off her defender and surged forward.

The 1.9-meter-tall rebounder roared, stretching out his hand.

This was the final shot.

In mid-air, her slender hand held the ball, wavering, first to the left, then to the right.

I remembered this was Old Han’s signature move from middle school—her pull-up jumper.

No one could block Old Han’s shot.

Unless the defender possessed a height that completely overwhelmed Old Han’s—

Still not enough!

The air suddenly froze.

Today’s weather was indeed glorious, a cloudless sky with a gentle, pleasant breeze that made one yearn for a midday nap.

Grandfather’s eyelids seemed heavy. He offered a faint smile and closed his eyes.

“When Xiao Feng starts running, he’s like a gust of wind, and the girls in the stands start screaming.”

“One New Year, when his parents were out visiting relatives, he pestered me, ‘Grandpa, I want KFC, I want KFC!’ I took him a few times; what even was that stuff? Fried shredded potatoes, two big steamed buns with a piece of fried chicken, and soda. All unhealthy…”

“You little rascal, you took so long checking my breath, I almost couldn’t breathe…”

…

“Truly worthy of being my Han Liwen’s most, most proud grandson…”

I suddenly heard someone say this, the voice incredibly faint, like a hallucination.

Yet, there was no one around, only the dappled sunlight filtering through the trees. Grandfather had already closed his eyes, his face serene.

As the basketball swished through the net, everyone in the stands rose to their feet. The boys’ eyes were wide, roaring, fists clenched, shouting.

They chanted Old Han’s name.

I stood up, looking at Grandfather, whose eyes were now closed, the sunlight dappling his face—

I remembered a year playing chess, when Grandfather’s hair hadn’t yet turned so white. The cicadas were noisy, and he fanned himself with a tattered fan, gazing into the distance.

I whispered, “Grandfather.”

On the podium, Huang Li raised the trophy, excitedly patting Old Han’s shoulder, looking as if he might almost kiss her. The opposing team sat dejectedly below, drinking water. A staff member, who looked like a student, walked over and handed each of them a pen, perhaps a commemorative prize. They held the pens, exchanged glances, and smiled helplessly.

Standing on the stage, Old Han wiped the sweat from her face, finally allowing a smile to grace her features.

She looked at the cheering crowd, her gaze lingering, then suddenly fixed on a patch of shade.

At that moment, I stood beneath the trees, the cicadas’ chirping rising and falling. I turned my head, meeting her gaze directly.

I don’t recall what expression I wore then.

I only remember her looking into my eyes, her expression gradually stiffening, her pupils focusing, then slowly drifting downward, to Grandfather beside me.

All the surrounding clamor seemed to fall silent in an instant.

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