Super Underdog: No Brothers, No Basketball

The hardest thing about writing this book wasn't the game scenes, it was the moments when nothing happened. Two people sat on the steps, one opened a hot water bottle and the other held the tape. They were silent for a long time and only said, "Today is your birthday." These little things are too easy to be ignored in reality, but the most real things between brothers are all hidden inside. Lu Chen spent the longest time - he has the most poisonous mouth and the most attentive heart. The old wounds on his knees are a metaphor I give to every adult: everyone has some old wounds. Carrying them forward is not because it doesn't hurt, but because there are people around you who are worth it. Ma Chao is the happiest person I write about. The atmosphere team is not a gangster. Without him, the wild ball player is just a training camp. With him, it is a family. Ultimately, what I want to write about is not an invincible team, but a group of ordinary people who become less ordinary when they get together. You will get hurt, you will quarrel, you will leave, but you will come back in the end - because of basketball, and more because of each other. Thank you for reading this. If you think of a brother who played ball with you or quarreled with each other in late-night group chats, then these hundreds of thousands of words are worth it.

The novel's quality of life, dialogue, and group portrait sketches are strengths, but as a novel chapter, there is room for improvement in character recognition, emotional foreshadowing, and structural balance. The biggest potential problem is that the narrator is too much like a live camera, recording a lot but feeling too little - except for the short paragraph at the end, Lu Chen's heart is almost closed. If this is an intentional stylistic choice, then "silence" itself needs to have tension.

Come on, author. It's the first time I've seen this type of work. It's very well done.