Chen Qingrang · Chat

During the free activity time of PE class, the basketball court was mostly occupied by boys. Chen Qingrang hadn't intended to play—his ear nerves had flared up again last night, and he didn't fall asleep until three in the morning. Today, he was relying entirely on an Americano to keep him going. But Cai Jiayan came sprinting from the other end of the court, grabbed his hoodie sleeve, and started shaking him: "We're short a person! Five-on-five! You have to come! If you don't, that show-off from the basketball team is going to think he's God!" Chen Qingrang glanced at the guy on the opposite side who was doing exaggerated between-the-legs dribbles like he was performing a show; his eyelid gave a slight twitch. Seeing his gaze waver, Cai Jiayan immediately added, "Just fifteen minutes," before running off without looking back. He pulled off his hoodie and draped it over a bench by the court, revealing a black short-sleeved shirt underneath. Under the sunlight, the lines of his shoulders and arms were outlined by the fabric—marks left by years of swimming. The muscle definition of his upper body was different from that of a regular gym-goer; it was a broad yet lean, fully extended physique. Someone nearby whistled; he didn't look back, just bent down to retie his shoelaces. He played well enough. He didn't bother competing with the show-off; most of the time he was just positioning himself for support, occasionally taking a shot—his aim was good, his release was crisp and clean, and the ball always went in with a sharp *swish* against the net, no lingering. Cai Jiayan scurried back and forth on the court, shouting "Catch it, catch it, catch it!" as he passed. Chen Qingrang caught it and shot without even looking at the hoop; it went in. Cai Jiayan let out a howl toward the sky on the spot: "This isn't fair! This is freaking unscientific!" Xu Zhiye was sitting on the sidelines, a phone resting on his knees. The screen showed a game interface, but he hadn't moved for half the match. He spent the entire time staring at the showy guy on the opposing team, a cold sneer on his face that said, "Let's see how long you can keep posing." Jiang Shuyi stood by the scoreboard, holding two bottles of water. He hadn't opened them; he just stood there watching. When the halftime whistle blew, Chen Qingrang walked to the sidelines and bent over to grab his phone from his hoodie pocket. As he straightened up, he found three girls standing in front of him in a loose fan shape. "Senior," the girl in the middle with a ponytail said, handing over a bottle of ice-cold water. "Have some water, you worked so hard just now." It was a pink bottle, unopened, with a layer of fine condensation clinging to its sides. Chen Qingrang's movements paused for a moment. Then he took it and smiled—the standard kind of smile that was just enough to make a heart race but not enough to be mistaken for flirtation: "Thanks. How did you know I was thirsty?" The ponytail girl's face flushed instantly, and she took half a step back. The two girls beside her exchanged excited glances, looking like they wanted to pinch each other to death. Chen Qingrang held the pink icy bottle, his fingertips touching the cold plastic. The curve on his face didn't fade, and his voice remained at a perfectly warm pitch: "You don't have to go out of your way next time; it's quite tiring." After he said this, the girls' expressions shifted from "successful water delivery" to "being touched by Senior's thoughtfulness," and they scurried away, pulling at each other as if their feet were on springs. Cai Jiayan appeared out of nowhere, tilting his head at the bottle before speaking in an incredibly obnoxious tone: "Senior~ You don't have to go out of your way next time~ It's quite tiring~" After mimicking him in a high-pitched voice, he winked at Chen Qingrang. "Can't you change your script? You said the exact same thing last year, word for word." Chen Qingrang looked down, twisted the bottle open, and took a sip without looking at him: "It works." Xu Zhiye stood up from the sidelines and wandered over, glancing at the pink drink as he passed Chen Qingrang. He didn't say a word, but in the moment he passed, he shoved something into Chen Qingrang's hand. Chen Qingrang looked down—it was a bottle of the sugar-free black tea he usually drank, the bottle already warmed to a lukewarm temperature by Xu Zhiye's palm. Before he could turn around, Xu Zhiye had already walked away, his back tense in a "don't ask" posture, the tiny ponytail at the back of his head bobbing. Cai Jiayan saw it and laughed on the spot: "Ooh, Young Master Xu even provides a feeding service?" Xu Zhiye didn't turn around, simply raising his right hand to flip the bird. Cai Jiayan laughed even harder, hooking his arm around Chen Qingrang's neck and starting to describe how "that three-pointer just now was really unscientific," gesturing wildly with his hands and feet as he spoke. Jiang Shuyi had been standing by the scoreboard the whole time. He only walked over once Cai Jiayan finally ran off to get a drink. He didn't say anything, just handed over one of the two bottles in his hand and put the other back on the bench. Chen Qingrang took a look—the one Jiang Shuyi handed over had already been opened, the cap loosened by half a turn. He took a sip. Jiang Shuyi crouched down nearby to tie his shoe, and as he stood up, he spoke casually: "Didn't sleep well again yesterday?" "Yeah." "What do you want for dinner? I'll make something and bring it over," Jiang Shuyi's tone was as light as if he were saying "the weather is nice today." Chen Qingrang thought for a moment and said, "Something spicy." "Okay." The show-off from earlier probably found a new chance to display himself; he dribbled over toward them, saying, "Hey Chen Qingrang, that shot was really good, let's play together next time," but his eyes kept darting toward the three bottles of water on the bench. Chen Qingrang held up the pink one and waved it at him: "A girl gave it to me." The expression on the guy's face froze for about 0.7 seconds. Chen Qingrang smiled and added, "If you want to drink it, I'll give it to you. I haven't touched it." The guy stiffened his neck and said, "No thanks, no thanks," then turned and left, his pace noticeably faster than when he arrived. Not far away, Cai Jiayan let out a five-second-long burst of suppressed, deliberate laughter. Xu Zhiye shouted from a distance: "Are you guys playing or not?" Chen Qingrang placed the pink bottle on a corner of the bench and stuffed the black tea into his hoodie pocket. He had already taken two sips of the bottle Jiang Shuyi gave him, so he set it down in the middle of the bench. As he turned to walk toward the court, Cai Jiayan jogged up from behind and stood to his left this time. The sunlight hit the 2 PM court, and the rubber flooring emitted a faint scent of heated latex. On the bench by the court, three bottles of water sat side by side: pink, black, and transparent. Each had its own source. Chen Qingrang stopped just outside the three-point line and looked back at the bench—the pink bottle had already been snatched by Cai Jiayan, who was currently tilting his head back to drink from it. He caught Cai Jiayan's eye, and the latter grinned at him while holding the pink bottle: "So sweet! Thanks, fan girl!" Chen Qingrang turned back, the corner of his mouth curving upward.