Hard-Won

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Yang Tang returned home in low spirits to find the house empty. It was not yet four o’clock; his parents were still at work.

“To do good with intention, though good, earns no reward; to do evil without intention, though evil, incurs no punishment! An easy thing to say, but what is there to do?”

After pondering for a moment, Yang Tang set down his bag, changed into sportswear and sneakers, bit into an apple, and rode his bicycle out the door. Staying home certainly wouldn’t help him accumulate merit.

Fortunately, the Lantern Festival was approaching, and the campus was gradually regaining its vibrancy. The basketball courts were already alive with students sweating it out.

He lingered by the court, bicycle at his side, observing. Security patrol cars occasionally passed by, leaving him speechless.

Damn, looks like there’s nothing good to do. Are they forcing me to do something bad? Discontented but determined, Yang Tang didn’t want to become a villain. He left the university and headed toward the nearby teachers’ college.

Before the merger, several universities sat near the campus—University of Architecture, College of Construction, Teachers’ College, and others. The campus was closest to the University of Architecture and the College of Construction, separated by only a street or two. Historically, the three schools had merged, but Yang Tang didn’t visit the neighboring two. Instead, he went to the Teachers’ College, simply because there were more girls there, and plenty of locals came to play ball, making small disputes fairly common.

This was where Yang Tang’s experience showed. In his view, wherever athletic competitions involved girls, conflicts were more likely to arise—and for him, conflict meant opportunities for merit. Wouldn’t that be something to smile about?

Alas, reality often defies expectations.

Arriving at the Teachers’ College, he found only a handful of people on the soccer field and not a single girl—clearly, there would be no chance for merit today.

The basketball courts were better: five out of nine had players, and six or seven girls cheered from the sidelines. Among them was a tall, fair-skinned girl in sportswear practicing her shots at an empty hoop, assisted by two attentive young men.

Yang Tang wasn’t there to pick up girls, nor was he in the mood. He scanned the courts and noticed that two hoops had groups rotating in fierce competition. He guessed that if someone made a dirty foul, a fight might break out.

That would suit him perfectly. But after standing by for nearly half an hour, everyone remained surprisingly restrained. Apart from some cursing, no one made a move.

No one fighting—normally a good thing—but Yang Tang was frustrated. He walked over to one of the hoops, picked up an unused basketball, and asked the group waiting nearby, “Whose ball is this? Mind if I use it for a bit?”

A bespectacled young man, slimmer and shorter than Yang Tang, replied, “It’s mine. Go ahead, just don’t take it too far.”

Yang Tang gestured his thanks, dribbled to the adjacent court, and executed a basic three-step layup. On the third step, he suddenly felt his jump had improved dramatically.

Was this due to the physical enhancements from solidifying his skills?

He caught the ball one-handed as it dropped from the hoop, set it aside, then stood directly beneath the basket. He leapt lightly upward, raising his hand to touch the rim.

“Whoosh—bang!”

Yang Tang easily grabbed the rim, making a loud noise that drew curious glances from everyone on the court.

“Wait, I barely jumped with any effort. Does that mean I could dunk now?” he wondered, tongue-tied, yet decided not to test it immediately.

When the crowd’s attention faded, Yang Tang prodded the ball with his toe, dribbled to the three-point line, and absentmindedly took a shot.

Of course, he missed completely.

He didn’t mind. What he cared about was whether those fiercely competitive groups would break out into a fight before dark. Another half hour passed, and, frustratingly, no one instigated anything.

At this moment, the girl practicing shots, along with her two helpers, approached Yang Tang and asked, “Hey, how about a two-on-two?”

Yang Tang glanced at her. She was almost as tall as him, her oval face with well-proportioned features—on a scale of one hundred, she’d score a seventy-five. Her rosy complexion made her a rare basketball beauty.

“Sure, two-on-two. I’ll team up with the beauty,” he replied.

The two helpers immediately shot him hostile looks.

Yang Tang wasn’t fazed. He grinned at them and explained, “That way, I’ll have the least physical contact with the beauty!”

The two guys looked stunned, then realized he was right.

The basketball girl glared at Yang Tang playfully, but didn’t object. “Teaming up with you isn’t a problem, but those two work well together!”

Yang Tang waved it off. “No worries, it’s just for fun!”

“Alright, let’s introduce ourselves. I’m Ye Ni,” the girl said, then pointed to the first helper, whose face was long and narrow. “He’s Longlong,” then to the square-faced one, “He’s Wang Dong—we all call him Dongzi.”

Yang Tang nodded to each, then casually invented, “I’m Yi Hong, just call me Xiao Hong.”

Longlong immediately jeered, “Xiao Hong? Like ‘little red’ from the nursery rhyme?”

“Hong as in ‘grand ambitions’!” Yang Tang corrected, shrugging. “But if you’re uncultured, you can think of it as the red in ‘little red flower.’”

“Kid…” Longlong stepped toward him.

Ye Ni intervened, “Longlong, are you playing or not?”

“Playing, of course!” Longlong stopped and exchanged a look with Wang Dong.

Wang Dong followed, “Ni Ni, you two start with the ball.”

Ye Ni hesitated, then agreed. She stood outside the three-point line, ready to pass to Yang Tang, but Longlong, nearly as tall as Yang Tang, pressed his shoulder against him.

With a dull thud, Yang Tang only swayed slightly, while the more robust-looking Longlong had to step back to regain his balance. Ye Ni, however, didn’t notice; she was already dribbling toward the basket under the two-on-two rule that allowed the starter to drive.

Unfortunately, her dribbling was no match for Wang Dong’s defense. When Ye Ni attempted a three-step layup, Wang Dong, a few centimeters taller, jumped alongside and blocked her shot perfectly.

“Smack-thump!”

The sound of ball and board echoed together. Ye Ni’s face flushed with embarrassment.

Wang Dong, proud of his block, landed—only for Longlong to shout from behind, “Watch out!” Before he could react, a hand snatched the ball rebounding off the board and slammed it into the basket.

Wang Dong hadn’t regained his footing when he felt a powerful force behind him, pushing him toward the hoop.

Thud!

His hand stung against the rim, and he turned in anger to see Yang Tang hanging leisurely from the basket, while Longlong and Ye Ni looked up at him in awe.

Not only them, but everyone nearby who witnessed Yang Tang’s put-back dunk was stunned. Dunking over someone—was that even human?

From then on, whether defended by Longlong or Wang Dong, Yang Tang, having made his mark, passed them easily. When the other defender came to help, he would feed Ye Ni the ball for a score. If neither covered, he’d break through for an easy layup. It was like a walk in the park.

After a dozen rounds, Wang Dong and Longlong had only scored three times and were seething. They planned to trip Yang Tang during his next jump, but just then, a pair of glasses from the adjacent court flew over and struck Wang Dong’s nose.

“Huh?”

For the past ten minutes, Yang Tang had focused solely on basketball. He glanced over and saw five or six guys beating up the bespectacled man who had lent him the ball, the fight now spilling over toward his hoop.

Perfect opportunity!

Yang Tang tossed the ball to Ye Ni and, without warning, dashed over, grabbed one of the attackers by the foot, and flung him outward.

“Whoosh—”

The guy barely knew what hit him, his body lifted half a foot off the ground and landing four or five meters away in a tumble, completely dazed.

“Whoosh—” Another one.

Ye Ni and her teammates were dumbfounded.

As the remaining attackers realized what was happening and turned on Yang Tang, he struck again, kicking another away.

Seeing this, the last two attackers, not entirely stupid, split up and fled toward the flower beds with bamboo railings, clearly searching for weapons.

Yang Tang marveled at his newfound physical prowess and, in a flash, rushed over to help the bespectacled man, who lay on the ground, face covered in blood and nearly unconscious.

At that moment, clarity arose: “Stop a serious fight—gain two merit points!”

Yang Tang was delighted. He checked the man’s breathing; it was weak.

Damn, this guy’s about to die! He shouted, “He’s about to kick the bucket! Who the hell has a car—get him to the hospital now!”

His shout stunned the attackers, making them hesitate.

Ye Ni spoke up, “I have a car…”

Wang Dong tugged her sleeve, whispering, “Ni Ni, don’t get involved.”

Ye Ni glared at Wang Dong, “How is this none of our business? A life’s at stake!” Then she turned to Yang Tang, “Quick, get him into my car!”

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