Chapter 47: No.1 High School vs. No.3 High School (Part Two)

As the opening remarks from the commentator concluded, the game was about to begin.
Seated at the commentary desk was a man in his early thirties, named Li Ke.
As a basketball enthusiast born in the 1980s, Li Ke had been following the sport for nearly twenty years. He had witnessed the rise and glory of the NBA’s legendary class of ’96, as well as the CBA’s journey from welcoming foreign imports to the awkward situation where domestic players had all but become supporting actors.
Now in his thirties, Li Ke had to shoulder the responsibilities of family life, but his passion for basketball and his attention to the game had never waned. On holidays, he would occasionally play pick-up games at the local courts.
Thanks to his solid knowledge of basketball, he sometimes took on part-time gigs commentating for community or company basketball events. Though the pay wasn’t high, he thoroughly enjoyed it.
So, when the website Shishuo launched, promising to become a haven for Chinese basketball, he immediately took notice. Many of the basketball insights shared there had benefited him greatly.
This year’s National High School Basketball League was a grand event, and Li Ke sensed that it might mark a turning point for basketball’s growth in the country.
When he saw the call for regional volunteer commentators on Shishuo, he instantly sent in his resume, eager to contribute in whatever way he could to the sport’s development at home.
Fortune favored him—he was selected as the commentator for the high school basketball preliminaries in QS County.
Before arriving at the venue, Li Ke had a feeling that high school basketball games might be far more exciting than most people imagined.
After all, he had been a high schooler himself and knew well that at that rebellious, passionate, youthful age, the thirst for victory burned more fiercely than at any other time in life.
His thoughts were confirmed the moment he saw the players from both teams enter the court; the determination in their eyes left no doubt.
Glancing at the basic player stats on the table and the sparse crowd in the stands, Li Ke adjusted his mic with a smile and began the day’s commentary.
“Good afternoon to the audience here and to those watching at home. We’re coming to you live from the QS County Sports Arena, bringing you the first stage of the inaugural National High School Basketball League qualifiers. I’m your commentator for today, Li Ke.”
“This is a best-of-one match: the loser is eliminated, the winner advances.”
“Today’s matchup features Qingshui No. 1 High School against Qingshui No. 3 High School. As locals know, No. 1 is the top academic school in the county, while No. 3 is renowned for its athletic program. So, who will emerge victorious in this basketball showdown? Let’s wait and see.”
…
Down below, Lin Nan and his teammates felt their blood begin to stir as the commentator’s voice echoed through the gymnasium. The sense of “a real game” electrified these teenagers, heightening their excitement.
However, Coach Gorilla had chosen to start the five seniors, including Bo Shen, so the younger players had to heed his decision and wait on the bench, restraining their eagerness to contribute.
Wang Jinsong and the others were puzzled—not being starters was understandable, but why were Lin Nan and Jiu Wu, two of their strongest players, also benched? The two of them didn’t seem any less capable than the seniors.
The focus shifted to Qingshui No. 1 High School, and Li Ke voiced his own curiosity from the commentator’s desk.
“As you can see, Qingshui No. 1 has a player named Li Fan. According to the stats, he’s a first-year student this year, and already stands at 1.95 meters tall—what a remarkable talent! But why isn’t he starting? Is it lack of experience, or perhaps a hidden ace up their sleeve?”
Li Ke paused for a moment, scanning the stats sheet as he continued to comment on the action.
“The referee is at center court for the opening tip-off. No. 1 is sending out player number 1, nicknamed ‘Screw.’” Li Ke chuckled and went on, “Same number as that NBA star Rose. I wonder if he’s as outstanding as his idol?”
On the court, Screw grinned with confidence as he heard the commentary. He hadn’t expected Coach Gorilla to include even his nickname in the match data. Now that his reputation was out, he felt he had to prove himself in this game.
Li Ke continued, “No. 3 is sending out player number 7, Wang Feng.”
“It’s clear that both teams are putting their centers forward, both around 1.85 meters tall.”
“The whistle blows, the referee tosses the ball high—almost a perfectly vertical throw.”
“Ah, Wang Feng jumps first, while Screw remains rooted in place.”
“But the ball hasn’t reached its peak yet. Wang Feng is about to touch it, but he’s already descending—youthful impatience, perhaps.”
“Meanwhile, Screw seizes the moment, leaps up, and tips the ball to his teammate.”
“The stats show Wang Feng is a first-year at No. 3, while Screw is a senior. Clearly, the latter’s experience gives him the edge on the court.”
“With possession, No. 1 pushes forward, while No. 3 quickly falls back on defense.”
“You can see No. 3’s captain, number 12, Chen Zheng, running over to Wang Feng and quietly giving him a few words—likely encouragement to stay calm and play his game.”
Hearing this, Lin Nan turned to look at the commentator’s desk, surprised at how keenly the commentator had picked up on such a detail. Along with his earlier remarks, it was clear this was a true professional.
With that in mind, Lin Nan turned his attention back to the court, listening closely to the commentary in hopes of learning something useful.
Li Ke continued, smiling, as he narrated the action.
“No. 1 is on offense, led by number 23, Zhu Bo. He brings the ball up steadily—rumor has it he’s known as ‘Bo God’ at school, and as captain of the team, his skillful ball-handling certainly lives up to the title.”
“Facing a tight zone defense from No. 3, Zhu Bo doesn’t force a drive or try a three-pointer. Instead, after a brief dribble, he passes the ball.”
“No. 1’s other players do the same—each holds the ball for less than three seconds before passing decisively. Eventually, after everyone has touched the ball, Zhu Bo finds a wide-open spot far from the defenders and takes a calm three-pointer.”
“Ah, it bounces off the rim, and No. 3 grabs the defensive rebound. Looks like Bo God’s shooting touch isn’t quite warmed up yet.”
“But that last offensive sequence from No. 1 had the feel of a high-level tournament—no one going solo, and everyone got involved right off the bat to build team chemistry. That’s an excellent approach.”
Lin Nan wholeheartedly agreed with the commentary. When he played with the older guys over summer break, this was exactly how they started: quick ball movement, then watching ‘Iron Man’ put on his solo show.
In the stands, Zheng Zemin nodded in approval as well. Whether or not the first shot goes in isn’t important—finding rhythm and flow is key.
Had Zhu Bo’s shot gone in, it would have shown he was well-adjusted to the court and in good form, warranting a quick second attempt to ride the hot hand. But missing wasn’t a problem either; next, they should focus on building team chemistry.
Zheng Zemin glanced down at Li Ke in the commentator’s booth a few rows ahead; he seemed familiar, perhaps someone he’d seen at the Wen-Ti Square basketball courts, though he wasn’t certain. Regardless, the man’s commentary skills were evident.
He turned his attention back to Li Ke’s narration.
“Now it’s No. 3’s turn to attack. No. 1 also chooses a zone defense—looks like both teams want to conserve energy in the first quarter.”
“But here’s the difference: No. 3’s captain, number 12, Chen Zheng, brings the ball up to the three-point line and opts to drive instead of passing.”
“Two nearby defenders immediately pressure him, but Chen Zheng, without so much as a glance, whips a behind-the-back pass to number 13, Chen Zhen.”
“Chen Zhen happens to be in the exact spot the right-side defender had just vacated a moment earlier. He catches the ball, leaps, and with a swift, graceful jumper, sinks it cleanly.”
“No. 1’s defenders were too far away to contest—just watched the ball go in.”
“What a polished play! The two didn’t exchange a single glance, yet it was as if they’d rehearsed it countless times.”
“Even their names are nearly identical—Chen Zhen and Chen Zheng. Truly, basketball is a brotherhood.”
Li Ke’s excitement grew at the commentator’s desk; he hadn’t expected such a brilliant play so early in the game. Clearly, Chen Zhen and Chen Zheng from No. 3 had been teammates for a long time.
Indeed, on the court, Chen Zhen and Chen Zheng exchanged a smile, as if nothing could be more natural than executing that play.
They had known each other for over a decade—classmates since kindergarten, now seniors in high school.
Both had always been energetic, climbing trees, racing at sports day, playing together, and eventually falling in love with basketball.
From childhood, their synergy in games had been uncanny, their bond as close as brothers, which naturally translated onto the court, often leaving opponents dumbfounded with their seamless teamwork.
Even Zhu Bo recalled marveling at their chemistry during last year’s game; he hadn’t expected it to become even more refined after a year apart.
It was clear he would have to switch from a zone defense to man-to-man soon—but for now, the priority was to even the score.