The lights of the national finals poured down the center of the court like molten gold foil. There were three seconds left on the clock, the score was tied at 78, and the air was so stagnant that you could hear the echo of your heartbeat. In the audience, tens of thousands of people held their breath, fearing that even breathing would disturb the balance of fate.
The coach's roar rang in his ears: "Lin Yang! Pass it to the captain! Pass it to the captain! This is tactics! This is discipline!"
The moment Lin Yang's finger touched the ball, time was torn open.
——A screenshot of the news about his father's expulsion from the professional team flashed in his mind: the headline was eye-catching, "Refuse to create fake physical test report, player expelled." In that photo, my father was wearing a faded team uniform, standing outside the training ground, holding a crumpled physical examination form in his hand, his eyes seemed to be empty.
Immediately afterwards, it was Lu Dabai.
He was alone in the training hall late at night. Sweat hit the wooden floor like a silent drumbeat. He shot 300 three-pointers, and no one watched, no one shouted, no one encouraged him. He just cast, and cast again, until his wrists trembled, until the moonlight leaked in through the cracks in the window, illuminating his silent side face.
