SSD 2 – Red Number 10

One year ago.

The gymnasium was packed and roaring with noise.

It was a noisy summer. Cicadas clung to the trees, screeching in the heat. Under the blazing sun, two bicycles, one red and one blue, zipped down the sidewalk in front of the gym, accompanied by the cheerful and urgent jingling of bells.

Their tires screeched sharply against the concrete. One of the boys braked hard and hopped off in a hurry, urging his friend behind him, “Fanming, hurry up! We’re gonna miss the fourth quarter!”

Xu Fanming locked his bike, lazily pulled a piece of bubble gum from his pocket, popped it in his mouth, and mumbled, “Isn’t there still over ten minutes? What’s the rush?”

“This is the finals. The citywide high school district finals!” His friend grabbed his hand in excitement and dragged him forward. “We’re playing against First High. My brother couldn’t even sleep last night. This is a showdown between the top two seeded teams!”

Blowing a bubble, he replied, “Your brother’s not bad. Why so nervous?”

His friend shoved open the gym doors and turned to him with a wide grin. “The other team’s got a blinding center.”

The referee’s whistle sliced through the air. The deafening cheers inside surged like a tidal wave and shook the roof.

In front of them, players ran back and forth in a frenzy. Fans screamed themselves hoarse, red in the face. The scoreboard loomed high above. A basketball slammed against the backboard with a loud thud, and instantly, a dozen hands shot into the air, reaching desperately. It looked like one massive shadow looming over the court.

Xu Fanming forgot to chew for a moment, frozen in place. He liked playing basketball, but he rarely came to watch games live. Still a bit dazed, he was yanked back to reality by his friend’s shout: “Ah! That’s my brother!”

Xu Fanming followed his gaze. His friend pointed at a tall guy on the court in a white jersey. “Number 9! See him?”

Hmm. He was tall, probably over 1.8 meters. That was definitely impressive for a second-year student. Right then, he had both arms outstretched, his expression focused as he locked eyes with the opponent in front of him. Xu Fanming followed his line of sight and was startled to see an even taller figure.

What the hell. That guy looked ready to take off and fly. Scanning the entire court, he stood out the most by far. No wonder Number 9 was so tense. His moves didn’t even look natural anymore.

Xu Fanming swallowed hard. The sweetness of the gum lingered in his mouth, but his throat felt parched. “Hey… that Red No. 10 with the ball in front of your brother, why’s he so tall?”

“That’s the center I was talking about.” His friend’s eyes stayed locked on the court, face filled with anticipation. “My brother must be freaking out right now. Number 10 is one-eighty-eight. Just his presence is overwhelming.”

Xu Fanming’s eyes returned to the two figures on the court. It was true. In order to keep track of both the ball and his opponent, Number 9 had no choice but to lift his chin and lock onto the other player. Just by posture alone, he already looked a step lower in presence. The shadow of Number 10 spilled across his pale face, tightening the tension on the court like a drawn wire. He dribbled effortlessly, his expression relaxed, as if the defender in front of him didn’t matter at all.

“Hold the line!”

A trembling shout came from the white team’s captain. Number 9 flinched instinctively. At that moment, the player in red narrowed his eyes.

Xu Fanming curled his lips, chewing on his gum before popping a bubble with a sharp smack. “There’s an opening. He’s done for.”

The bubble burst.

Right in that moment, Number 10 made a sweeping fake with his arm. Number 9 stiffened, his body reacting on instinct to chase after the ball. He realized too late it was a feint. By the time he turned around, Number 10 had already jumped, landing with both feet and continuing forward without pause.

Number 9 groaned and covered his face, then forced himself to refocus and took off after Number 10’s back. A teammate from the white team rushed in to cover, but Number 10 didn’t care in the slightest. With a calm flick, he passed the ball behind him toward a teammate waiting farther out.

That teammate, who had been standing near the sideline, caught the ball by surprised and suddenly became the center of attention. He froze for a second, then quickly began dribbling toward the basket. The defenders rushed in, sweating and scrambling to block him.

Number 10 stood still and watched the scramble unfold in front of him. Slowly, a smile crept across his lips. Even Xu Fanming, watching from the sidelines, felt a chill run down his spine.

“Quick, block him! Block him!” His friend was still anxiously watching the teammates rush in to help. But Xu Fanming nudged him with his elbow. “Hey, look at Number 10.”

After shaking off the defense, Number 10 charged straight toward the basket. The ball handler finally found the opening and hurled the ball in his direction, just past the opponent who tried to block it.

Number 10 turned, jumped, and slammed it down.

The whistle sounded twice, marking the end of the third quarter. A few seconds later, the gym erupted in thunderous applause.

Number 10 took the towel handed to him by the team staff, wiped the sweat from his cheeks, then unscrewed a bottle cap and took a sip of water. His expression remained relaxed and unbothered. Meanwhile, the players in white were still standing on the court, their faces heavy, none of them saying a word.

The pressure on them was crushing.

They had known in advance that the center from First High was good, but they didn’t expect this. His skill had already surpassed what most high school players were capable of. It felt more like a one-sided beating. Through all three quarters, Number 10 kept his own pace, steady and unhurried. He hadn’t said a single word, but still drove them into a corner.

That string of feints, cuts, and passes just now made it obvious. He hadn’t held back at all. He was treating his opponents like they were toys.

The game had been going on for nearly forty minutes now, and the score difference was close to thirty points.

Damn, my throat’s so dry. I should’ve bought a cold Coke before coming up. Xu Fanming scratched his head, eyes lifting toward the red Number 10 in the rest area sipping water. He raised a brow and asked, “What did you say Number 10’s name was again?”

His friend said a name. “He’s also in second year.” Then he glanced at the scoreboard and clicked his tongue. “Damn. Forty-five to eighty-four. My brother’s team got wrecked this time.”

“He’s a sports student?”

“No idea. I heard he’s planning to apply to a sports school or something. Anyway, he is well-known. Everyone in the scene agrees he’s a beast. Don’t let the thirty-point lead fool you into thinking First High is unbeatable. Honestly, it’s almost all thanks to Number 10. He’s carrying the whole team on his back.”

As he said this, he turned to look at Xu Fanming. “Ming-ge, weren’t you always saying no one was good enough to play you? Well, there’s your challenge. You should watch him and learn something. You’re always picking fights with us mortals, and now you’ve finally run into a god.”

Xu Fanming’s face flushed red. He huffed and kept chewing his gum. “I already play better than you losers.”

But he had to admit, even in those few short minutes of play, it was clear that Number 10 had an incredibly solid foundation. His dribbling, passing, and layups flowed smoothly. His form was sharp, and every movement carried explosive force.

If he kept training without letting up, there was no doubt his future would be bright.

That thought made Xu Fanming’s lips curl into a smile. His eyes shifted back to the court with a spark of anticipation.

Break time ended. The fourth quarter began.

Number 10 stayed consistent. He moved like a machine, scoring again and again, crushing the opposing team without pause. The players in white were clearly losing spirit. Each of them was gritting their teeth, drenched in sweat, struggling to keep up.

The blow from this match was too heavy. The longer it went on, the more their confidence wore away. After yet another successful three-pointer from Number 10, one of the defenders looked completely defeated, his expression sinking as if ready to give up entirely.

This couldn’t go on. The team captain couldn’t take it anymore. At that moment, the coach called for a timeout. On the sidelines, the five players in white huddled tightly, arms wrapped around each other’s shoulders, trying to lift themselves back up.

“No matter how this ends,” the captain shouted, “we can’t walk away from this game with regrets!”

The coach smiled and gave them a few firm pats on the back. “Fight to the last second. That’s how you show respect to the game. That’s the real spirit of sports. You’ve all done great. One last quarter. Give it everything you’ve got.”

When the timeout ended and the players returned to the court, the shift in energy was obvious. The white team had pulled themselves back together. The captain wore a smile, and every player had their eyes locked on the orange basketball. The air tightened with pressure.

Slowly, the crowd began to cheer for the white team. One voice, then another, until the sound rose into a strong, layered chorus.

Time continued ticking down. The score gap was too wide to catch up, but the white team refused to waste any chance to score. Since Number 10 was clearly First High’s key player, they poured everything into locking him down. In the final minutes, they pushed forward with a tight defensive strategy, staying glued to him, leaving no opening at all.

“First High, let’s go!”

“Sixth High, let’s go!”

The cheers exploded from every direction, thumping like drums in their ears. Every player kept their focus on Number 10. The moment he made even the slightest move, someone was already reacting. The ball rotated once more and landed back in Number 10’s hands. In that instant, every nerve on the court went taut.

No longer willing to stay on the defensive, the player guarding him seized the moment and lunged forward, trying to catch Number 10 off guard and steal the ball. But Number 10 quickly switched to a between-the-legs dribble, shifting direction smoothly. The defender reached again and again, but never even brushed the ball. There wasn’t a single opening.

The defender’s face turned red. At that moment, Number 10 spotted a gap, turned his body slightly, and slipped past him while still dribbling.

Just as several defenders braced themselves to block his next move toward the basket, Number 10 unexpectedly passed the ball, throwing it to the red Number 8 who was positioned right beneath the hoop.

“Number 8’s got a good spot for a shot,” Xu Fanming muttered. “As long as he gets inside the paint, that should be an easy score.”

“Stay on Number 10!” the captain shouted while sprinting. After what happened last time, none of them dared let their attention shift. But just as they were preparing to defend, Number 8 suddenly took the ball into the paint, bent his knees, and launched it toward the hoop.

Number 8 was a pale, skinny boy with an average height and plain skills. He usually blended right into the team. The sudden pass from Number 10 had startled him, and even as he took the shot, his fingers were trembling. The moment the ball left his hands, he instinctively glanced toward their center. But the one drawing everyone’s eyes was still staring straight at the backboard.

Half a second later, Number 10 charged forward in huge strides.

“Rebound!”

The ball hit the backboard and spun downward. Everyone reached up, scrambling to grab it. But in midair, the flash of red soared higher than all of them, snatching the rebound with unstoppable force.

A heavy slam followed.

It was a clean put-back.

Red Number 10.

The whistle blew again.

The long whistle blew. The game was officially over. First High had won the championship, and the whole gym erupted.

It felt like a one-man show put on by Number 10.

As the music began playing, Xu Fanming gulped down the gum in his mouth. Two seconds later, he finally came back to his senses. He tugged at his friend’s sleeve and asked blankly, “Hey… that red Number 10, what did you say his name was again?”

His friend let out a sigh and repeated the name. “How many times do I have to tell you?”

Xu Fanming silently mouthed those few words to himself.

Red Number 10. The center of First High. Eighteen years old. One meter eighty-eight. Skill far above the average level.

His mind kept replaying those brilliant plays from the court. His chest burned with excitement he couldn’t hold back. His eyes grew sharp and clear, and the smile on his face grew wider by the second.

Yeah. One day, I’ll face him on the court.

And after that, someday, I’ll surpass him.

Number 10, the center. He Jiang.

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Court Terms

Rebound: A ball that bounces off the backboard or rim after a missed shot attempt.

Restricted Area (Three-Second Zone): Also known as the paint or key. It refers to the rectangular area under the basket, bordered by lines extending from both ends of the free-throw line to a point three meters from the baseline. Offensive players are not allowed to stay in this zone for more than three seconds.