Chapter 22
EVEN THOUGH JIANG CHENG sent a very skillful and smooth shot into the basket, and let out an impressive yell… Fresh Out of Jail and Li Yan’s practiced teamwork far exceeded his and Gu Fei’s, not to mention their skills were much better than the other three guys on their class’s team. In the first half, Jiang Cheng’s team only netted fifteen points.
Jiang Cheng scored two three-pointers, while Gu Fei scored most of the rest, except for one single-point penalty shot from Wang Xu. Jiang Cheng was amazed that Wang Xu’s weird, butt-sticking-out, schoolboy penalty shot even managed to go in the hoop.
During the half-time break, he glanced at the scoreboard: twenty-eight to fifteen.
The score was kind of painful to look at. With this big a difference, and their skills and teamwork being what they were, there was no way they could catch up. If this were a real match, their strategy in the second half would be based on a respectable desire to keep the gap from getting any wider.
“Let’s make two swaps,” Li Yan said as he sat on the court floor. “Luo Yu and Zhao Yihui will take a break—let two of your bench players take their place so they can all get some practice.”
“Sounds good.” Captain Wang Xu nodded. “Otherwise, the game might as well be over. Class Two doesn’t play this well, anyway. Our training opponents are too good—it’s killing our confidence.”
Jiang Cheng sat silently in his corner. Earlier, he’d only felt the pain in his wound as he took his shot—the feeling was mostly gone when he landed. But now, after a couple of minutes of rest, the pain was searing through him again like a crackling fire.
He looked at his high-spirited teammates beside him and made no mention of swapping out. If Jiang Cheng swapped out and they depended entirely on Gu Fei, they wouldn’t even be able to train their teamwork; there wouldn’t be any point in practicing.
In any case, he didn’t want Wang Xu to know he was injured. Wang Xu was preternaturally fixated on whether he’d fought with Monkey again—he really couldn’t handle any more of that crap.
“Want to swap out for a rest?” Gu Fei asked quietly, standing in front of him.
“It’s fine,” Jiang Cheng said. He stood and stretched his arms. “We’ll see after the match.”
“Okay.” Gu Fei gave him a look, then called their teammates over.
“We’ve played half a game, so you should have some idea of how it goes now.
For the next half, I’ll be taking it from the sidelines to the basket. You guys continue guarding your marks. Pass the ball more—don’t keep possession all the time. They’re all good at stealing. Pass to Jiang Cheng, and I’ll get the points.”
Having missed the chance to delegate the tasks, Captain Wang Xu insisted on having the last word: “Right, what Da-Fei said.”
In the first half, Jiang Cheng had the feeling Gu Fei was holding back, as if he was testing the skills of Wang Xu and the team. But starting in the second half, he played differently from before, like a wild animal let loose in an open field.
Only now did Jiang Cheng realize how frighteningly fast Gu Fei could move. Liu Fan and his group were very familiar with him, yet they couldn’t mark him at all.
His strategy was straightforward: go from the sidelines straight to the basket, then receive the pass and shoot. If anyone stopped him, he would pass the ball to Jiang Cheng or some other teammate, then get the ball back from Jiang Cheng again.
Gu Fei was clearly having a good time, but Jiang Cheng found it tiring. He had to keep track of everyone’s position on the court at all times while also watching out for passes from Gu Fei, who made them without even looking.
They closed the gap by five or six points, but Jiang Cheng couldn’t resist saying, “Could you look and see where I am before you pass?”
“I did,” Gu Fei said.
“I was ten whole paces away when you made that damn pass,” Jiang Cheng gritted out in a low voice.
“You got there, didn’t you? It’s not like we lost the ball.”
Jiang Cheng was lost for words. “…And if we did?”
“Then it’s on me,” Gu Fei replied calmly.
“That’s bullshit! What, we don’t lose points just because you say it’s your fault?”
“Cheng-ge,” Gu Fei laughed, looking at him, “you were captain of the basketball team in your old school, weren’t you?”
“That’s none of your business.” Jiang Cheng looked right back. “I’m just telling you, keep an eye out.”
“Got it.”
After that, there was a slight change in the way Gu Fei moved: He would sweep a glance at Jiang Cheng’s position out of the corner of his eye. But even after that look, he still passed the ball the same way, as if to say, “You asked me to look, so I looked, but I’ll still pass it the way I want.”
Jiang Cheng didn’t bother commenting on it again. Gu Fei and Fresh Out of Jail played like they were on the streets, anyway. They were loose with the rules and expected their teammates to be one hundred percent in sync with them.
They were like animals on the court, which even influenced the reserve players —they played like they were on steroids, making three fouls in less than ten minutes.
“Watch yourselves,” Jiang Cheng said, exasperated. “We only have so many players. Who’ll play if you’re all sent off? Lao-Xu?”
Guo Xu waved his arms as he ran past. “It’s fun!”
The game was still on. Jiang Cheng didn’t have time to dwell on it; he followed them.
Wang Xu stole the ball from one of the reserves and howled like a god descending from the heavens: “Aaaahhh—!”
Jiang Cheng watched as Wang Xu was carried away by his own excitement. He had no apparent intention of either passing or advancing. Jiang Cheng had to clap and call out, “Pass the damn ball!”
Wang Xu recovered and immediately passed it with a swing of his arm.
Jiang Cheng felt his heart seize. He’d just escaped Chen Jie’s guard, catching a brief opening when nobody was blocking him, so any normal person would pass the ball to him. Who would have thought that Wang Xu would fling the ball to Gu Fei when Liu Fan was guarding him so closely that they were practically dancing the tango?!
Jiang Cheng could only watch it happen, speechless.
Gu Fei didn’t seem to expect Wang Xu to pass the ball to him, either, but despite the circumstances he reacted surprisingly quickly, stretching his hand out and hitting the ball away before Liu Fan could touch it.
The volleyball-esque whack changed the ball’s trajectory, launching it at Jiang Cheng’s face.
“Fuck!” Jiang Cheng cried out in shock, feeling his heart about to leap out through the wound on his rib. Luckily, he raised his hand on reflex, stopping the ball right on time.
“Are you all fucking blind?!” he swore. Now that he had the ball, he left the rest of them behind as he charged furiously toward the basket like a tank.
Time was almost up anyway; he couldn’t readjust. Now he was in the paint, he realized there was no opening for him to shoot. Liu Fan was incredibly adept at marking his opponent; he’d followed him the whole way, and one turn of his torso covered him completely.
Jiang Cheng didn’t see Gu Fei in his peripheral vision, only the well-guarded Wang Xu and Lu Xiaobin. He couldn’t afford to turn now, not with Liu Fan’s hands waving in front of him—all it would take was a moment’s distraction and he would lose the ball.
“There’s no time—” someone yelled off the court.
If he didn’t act now, their two points were gone. Jiang Cheng had no choice. He counted on Gu Fei being close enough to assist; if he wasn’t at the basket, then he had to be behind him. So Jiang Cheng hooked one hand back and sent the ball backward. Then, blocking Liu Fan, he turned his head.
Gu Fei strode over and caught the ball securely. Without missing a beat, he jumped and made a three-point shot. The ball curved a long arc through the air.
“It’s in! Holy shit!” Wang Xu screeched. “Three points!”
Jiang Cheng gave him a thumbs-up. Though the shot made no difference to the game overall, it was beautiful.
The whistle sounded, signaling the end of the match.
“Not bad, not bad! I think that was pretty good, even though the scores…” Wang Xu wiped the sweat from his forehead as he looked at the scoreboard.
“Shit, eleven points apart? Oh, but it was still really good!”
Everyone agreed as they wiped their sweat away.
“Our teamwork’s not up to par.” Jiang Cheng tugged his shirt. His wound was really stinging; it must have been the sweat. “We need to break our habit of keeping our eyes on the ball instead of our teammates or opponents.”
“Yeah, that’s right.” Wang Xu nodded, then echoed in his own words, “We need to look at our own team and the opposing side, not just the ball.”
Fresh Out of Jail left now that they’d performed their duty, while the rest of them were absolutely engrossed in conversation until Lao-Xu came over.
“Quick, clean up and get changed,” Lao-Xu said. “I asked for ten minutes from your Political Science teacher. Don’t distract your classmates when you go back to class.”
Everyone funneled into the gym bathroom to wash their faces or take a piss. Jiang Cheng waited until everyone had left to go in. After he washed his face, he lifted his shirt and looked in the mirror.
“Motherfucker,” he muttered as he saw blood seeping through the gauze covering his wound. “Fucking…fuck.”
He had nothing to clean the wound with right now, and he didn’t want to go to the infirmary. The school nurse would take one look and report it. If Lao-Xu found out, who knew what other acts of fatherly love he would be inspired to perform… Someone whistled behind him. Jiang Cheng quickly put his shirt back down and glanced in the mirror—it was Gu Fei.
Jiang Cheng sighed in relief. “Got any band-aids?”
“For a gash like that?” Gu Fei was skeptical. “I’ll…get you some gauze from the infirmary.”
“Is that a good idea?” Jiang Cheng frowned. “What if the nurse asks questions?”
“No one will ask any questions if it’s me.” Gu Fei examined his wound again. “This is really bad. Why didn’t you say anything yesterday?”
“What’s there to say?”
“Wait here for me.” With that, Gu Fei left.
Bracing himself against the sink, Jiang Cheng sighed. He’d been so focused during the game that he hadn’t even noticed it. Now that he was more relaxed, he felt a burning sensation radiating from the wound, along with a sharp and piercing pain, as if he’d been stabbed.
He carefully peeled the gauze off to take a look. The area underneath the gauze was red, with some blood seeping out of the wound, but it didn’t look too bad otherwise.
It had been a long time since he’d sustained an injury that drew blood.
He’d been in a few fights since he started high school, but most of them only left him with bruises at worst. He felt a little sullen at the sudden sight of blood on himself.
Was it for Li Baoguo’s sake? Nah. He couldn’t even be bothered to ask how Li Baoguo was doing. More importantly, Li Baoguo hadn’t contacted him since yesterday. He had no idea if the man had gone gambling again or if his attackers had finally caught up to him. The more Jiang Cheng thought about it, the more it unnerved him. What kind of trouble had Li Baoguo gotten himself into? Was it resolved now? Would there be other altercations like that in the future? This time, he’d been beaten up on the street; would they track him down at his house next time? Would they trash the place, or would they bash his head in?
The thought made him shudder.
Gu Fei quickly returned to the bathroom with a small bag containing disinfectant, bandages, and other supplies.
“Want a hand?” he asked.
“I’ll…do it myself.” Jiang Cheng picked up a cotton ball and poured rubbing alcohol on it.
Ever since Jiang Cheng had realized he was more into men than women, he’d been reluctant to have physical contact with other people. Apart from Pan Zhi, anyone else’s touch made him feel uncomfortable. Especially someone like Gu Fei, with his handsome face and pretty hands. He worried his thoughts would stray into inappropriate territory.
However, it was hard to maneuver with one hand lifting his shirt and the other cleaning his wound with the cotton ball. When he let go to get a fresh piece of cotton, his shirt fell and brushed against his wound again.
“Wang Xu called you fussy,” Gu Fei said, watching.
“Yeah,” said Jiang Cheng. “What, you want to back him up on that?”
“I do. You really are difficult. Are you trying to show how strong and independent you are?”
Jiang Cheng sighed. With the bottle of rubbing alcohol in his hand, he looked at Gu Fei. “I’m afraid you won’t know how to hold back—that’s how you play basketball.”
“I’ve been cleaning my own wounds since I was four.” Gu Fei took the bottle from his hand and poured alcohol onto the cotton. “I’m an old hand.”
Jiang Cheng said nothing. Four? Bullshit. He couldn’t even remember anything from when he was four.
Gu Fei’s hands were adept enough, though. The cotton pressed quick and gentle against his wound; it was over before he could feel any pain. Jiang Cheng shifted his eyes to the faucet in the corner.
“This wound of yours won’t heal before the tournament.” Gu Fei covered the wound in gauze. “Hold this.”
“It won’t make a difference.” Jiang Cheng pressed the gauze to the wound and quickly stole a glance at Gu Fei’s fingers. They were long, especially his pinky finger. Very suited to playing piano… He turned his gaze back to the faucet.
Gu Fei swiftly used medical tape to secure the gauze. “Done. You can hold onto this stuff and change it yourself later.”
They returned to the classroom to hear their Political Science teacher raging at the podium, but the buzzing students were undaunted by her ire; having just returned from practice, the basketball players were at the height of their excitement.
“Your Xu-zong has got his priorities backward!” She slapped the podium.
“Forget about your midterms, you can take a basketball exam instead! I can’t believe you were off playing with balls during class hours! It’s not that I have low expectations for your class, but the way you behave…” Jiang Cheng bowed his head as he hurried back to his seat. As a “good student,” he normally showed teachers some respect; he would usually act repentant when they got angry and yelled.
Gu Fei was less cooperative. He ambled slowly back to his seat during her impassioned admonishment, going so far as to straighten out his jacket on the back of his chair before sitting down.
“Hey, Da-Fei,” Zhou Jing turned and whispered. “Hey. Da—” Before he could finish his sentence, the teacher slammed her palm onto the podium. “Zhou Jing! Get out!”
“Wha—?” Zhou Jing froze.
“Get out!” she roared, pointing at him.
Zhou Jing hesitated, then stood, put on his jacket, and walked out the back door into the corridor.
“And the two behind him! Get out of here!” the teacher exclaimed, pointing at Jiang Cheng and Gu Fei. “Everyone else came back before you two did! You don’t even want to be in class, do you?! Go stand outside!”
Jiang Cheng stared at the teacher. While he never looked like he was paying attention in class—sometimes he skipped altogether—it was his first time getting called out directly and told to leave. But Gu Fei was fully compliant, much more so than when teachers told him to pay attention. As soon as she finished speaking, he stood, took his jacket, and went to lean against the railing of the walkway outside with Zhou Jing.
The teacher continued to point at Jiang Cheng. “You!”
Resigned to the situation, Jiang Cheng sighed. He got to his feet and walked out too. He didn’t have to grab his jacket; he hadn’t even gotten a chance to remove it.
Zhou Jing wasn’t upset about being kicked out of class at all. Leaning over the railing, he continued his line of questioning. “Wang Xu says you guys are the shit now?”
“Not the shit,” Jiang Cheng said, “just shit.”
Captain Wang Jiuri had asked everyone to act like bitter, despairing players with no hope of winning, but apparently he couldn’t resist bragging.
“Is Da-Fei playing?” Zhou Jing asked. “Wang Xu said you wouldn’t agree to it even when Lao-Xu begged you.”
Jiang Cheng almost burst out laughing. Wang Xu still kept loyal to his claim of Gu Fei’s absence, but his random embellishments made Jiang Cheng want to interview him to see what went on inside his head.
“Yeah.” Gu Fei turned. “I have no sense of class pride.”
Gu Fei stood to Jiang Cheng’s right; when he turned and spoke, his breath skimmed Jiang Cheng’s face. Jiang Cheng quickly drew away, bounced in place twice, then calmly walked to the other side of Zhou Jing. He leaned on the railing and looked out below.
“Really?” Not entirely convinced, Zhou Jing glanced at Jiang Cheng.
“You’re not pulling my leg?”
Jiang Cheng stared at him. Zhou Jing wasn’t a bad guy, but anyone could see that his mouth was a megaphone; if you told him anything it’d get out before you even had the time to turn around.
“Mm.” Jiang Cheng nodded.
“But Wang Xu said you guys are really good now… How? It’s not like I’ve never seen them play before.” Zhou Jing frowned. After a moment’s thought, his eyes lit up. “Holy shit, is this one of your strategies? Telling people that you’re good?”
Jiang Cheng really wanted to ask him what the point of bragging about their team’s prowess as a threat to their opponents would be, but he nodded anyway.
“Oh—” Zhou Jing wanted to continue, but Gu Fei’s phone rang and cut him off.
It was Gu Fei’s mother. He picked up. “Hello?”
“Are you done with school yet?!” her panicked voice blared. “I don’t know what’s wrong with Er-Miao—” His heart clenched as he heard Gu Miao screaming in the background.
“I’m coming home right now.”
He hung up and sprinted down the stairs.
There were many reasons why Gu Miao might scream. In the past two years, it was usually water. But she only occasionally reacted that way, and his mom knew about that particular fear of hers, so she usually took extra care. This was probably unrelated to water. So what was it?
He raced out the school gate; the guard didn’t even have a chance to stop him and ask where he was going.
As he dashed home on his bicycle, Gu Fei felt very tired. This exhaustion would always sneak up on him without warning; the moment it struck, he always felt as if he could shut his eyes and sleep until the end of time. It wasn’t physical exhaustion—he didn’t feel that part of it very much anymore, but the mental exhaustion was impossible to escape. He could ignore his mom, or shout at her sometimes to vent, but he couldn’t ignore Gu Miao.
He was careful: On one hand, he taught Gu Miao to handle certain possible dangers on her own; on the other hand, he had to stay on guard for her constantly, defending her against accidental threats that could appear out of nowhere.
Sprinting up the stairs, he could hear Gu Miao’s screams even through the shut door.
The old lady in the unit across the landing from them opened her door and looked at him with concern. “Is Er-Miao…” “She’ll be fine,” Gu Fei said. He opened the door and went in.
His mom was sitting on the sofa, holding Gu Miao. Gu Miao buried her face in their mother’s breast, wailing incessantly.
“Er-Miao. Er-Miao, quiet now. Look, your brother’s home.” Their mom patted Gu Miao’s back. “Gu Fei’s home…” Gu Fei went over and took Gu Miao from his mother’s arms. One hand stroking her back and the other gently squeezing the back of her neck, he said, “It’s okay, Er-Miao. It’s okay now.”
Gu Miao wrapped her arms around his neck and continued screaming. She was trembling. Gu Fei frowned at this—Gu Miao wasn’t scared. She was angry.
“What is it?” Gu Fei asked softly. “Tell me. What made you angry?”
His mom looked at him, uncomprehending. “Angry?”
He pointed at Gu Miao’s backpack and had his mother bring it over to him. He took out Gu Miao’s books and notebooks. As he flipped through them, he asked, “Is it your books? Did someone rip them up?”
Gu Miao’s screams grew softer, though she was still shouting. He could make out one muffled word through it all: “Drawing.”
Gu Fei opened her vocabulary notebook. Two pages in, he saw a page that had been scribbled all over with messy sketches of a small figure tripping; he could make out a skateboard next to it, with a caption on both sides: “Pig. Mute. Idiot.”
“Er-Miao, stop.” Gu Fei put the notebook down and held her by the shoulders. “Look at me. Look at me.”
Gu Miao finally stopped screaming. She raised her head to look at him, her eyes wide open.
“Do you know who did this?” Gu Fei asked.
Gu Miao nodded.
Looking into her eyes, Gu Fei said, “Let me take care of this for you, okay? I’ll go talk to your classmate.”
For a while, Gu Miao fixed her large eyes on him unblinkingly. Then, she shook her head.
“No?” Gu Fei asked.
Gu Miao shook her head again.
“What are you thinking, then?” Gu Fei asked. “Tell me.”
After a very long pause, Gu Miao quietly said, “Myself.”
Gu Fei didn’t know how she wanted to take care of it, but Gu Miao wouldn’t speak again no matter how he asked, nor would she give him any other response—she turned, went into her room, and shut the door.
On the sofa, their mom covered her face and sobbed quietly. “Why is my life like this? I married a bastard, and I barely know how to raise my own kids… Did I do something terrible in my last life to deserve this? Even when I want to find someone to keep me company—” “Mom, just go back to your room,” Gu Fei said.
“And my son’s so cruel to me…” Covering her face, she sobbed as she retreated to her bedroom.
Gu Fei pinched his brow. The apartment was quiet now, without a single sound.
He peeked at Gu Miao through a gap in the door. Gu Miao lay in bed, hugging her blanket; she looked like she was sleeping. There was no sound from his mom’s room, either.
He returned to the sofa and closed his eyes.
After resting like that for about half an hour, he opened his eyes and called Ding Zhuxin. “Xin-jie, are you free to come out tonight?”