In the late afternoon, the weary atmosphere of the classroom was dispelled by a sudden shout.
"Brothers, to the basketball court!" the Sports Representative rallied, raising an arm. "Let's start practicing early to build some chemistry with Si Jiang. Our day of redemption is at hand!"
The girls laughed. "Even with Senior Si Jiang, you guys aren't going to turn from sparrows into phoenixes overnight, are you?"
"What do you girls know? An ace player is vital."
"Oh, we don't know anything? Fine, then we won't go watch. Goodbye." The girls rolled their eyes and moved to leave, pulling Zong Yan along. "Come on, Senior, ignore them."
Zong Yan found their banter quite novel.
"Wait, wait, wait! Sisters, our support crew needs you!" a boy immediately lunged forward, feigning a plea for mercy.
It was no joke—without girls cheering on the sidelines and handing them water, they would lose half their strength on the court.
"Tch, hypocrites."
It was so noisy. All that chirping was a headache.
Si Jiang sat up, rubbing his temples. His head felt heavy from a lack of sleep. "What are you all talking about?"
"Senior, you're awake! Come on, let's head to the court and warm up?" The Sports Representative’s eyes lit up as he approached, eagerly reaching out to clap him on the shoulder.
Si Jiang raised a hand to block him. "I know."
The energetic college student didn't mind the rebuff. He pulled his hand back and called out to the others, "Let's go! Move out, friends!"
Spots at the indoor basketball court weren't easy to snag. For a last-minute game like this, they could only head to the outdoor courts and hope for the best. Fortunately, a court had just opened up in the sports area right below the dormitory buildings. The boys swarmed it, terrified that someone else might claim the space if they delayed even a minute.
Zong Yan stood in the corner, lacking interest; she had never cared much for sports.
On the court, the boys were in high spirits—bending low, dribbling. Some even whipped off their shirts, revealing lean, toned physiques. Compared to the group of sweating boys, Si Jiang’s attire made him look entirely out of place.
Yet his expression remained unchanged as he wove through the formations. With a reach of his long arms, he intercepted the ball mid-air, skillfully dribbling it between his legs. His body twisted with agility, carrying the ball into a defensive blind spot. Gripping the ball, he aimed at the hoop and leaped lightly—
"A three-pointer!"
Without waiting for the others to cheer, his expression remained stoic. Within a few short minutes, he seized another scoring opportunity, racking up points consecutively.
The atmosphere heated up instantly. The girls’ eyes sparkled as they clapped and cheered, their gazes practically glued to him.
"So cool, Si Jiang!"
Si Jiang had become the undisputed center of attention. Unbeknownst to him, more and more onlookers were gathering around the court.
Taking advantage of a pass, the Sports Representative asked enviously, "That’s incredible, Senior. Where did you learn those moves?"
Dribbling the ball, the corners of Si Jiang’s mouth curled up with pride. "Do I even need to learn? Play with a bunch of foreigners every day and even an idiot would pick up a thing or two."
During his final period at the sanatorium, the doctors had advised him not to stay cooped up in his room. They suggested physical training, leading him to join a basketball team formed by the patients themselves. Although it was a sanatorium, the people there were of no small status—either wealthy or noble. There was even a young prodigy on the team who had nearly been drafted into the NBA.
At first, his physical condition was poor, and he was shorter than the others; he was completely dominated. Everyone mocked his frame, easily stripping the ball from his hands. There were even those with racial prejudices who committed malicious fouls to injure him.
But later, no one dared treat him that way again.
The crowd's flattery acted like a shot of adrenaline injected into his muscles. Si Jiang gradually regained his high-spirited state, galloping freely across the court.
"It's over. With Si Jiang here, will the girls even see us anymore?" the boys wailed.
Si Jiang raised his brows and sank another three-pointer.
His heart felt light. Everyone was looking at him, everyone was dazzled by him—what more could he be dissatisfied with? This was the perfect life that was supposed to belong to him.
*“Si Jiang, have you ever considered that she was PUA-ing you?”*
*“Making you feel that no one is sincere toward you, that no one cares about you. Except for her.”*
*“She placed you in an isolated, helpless position just so she could come and save you. Is that kind of behavior truly caring for you?”*
*“Si Jiang, you are an independent person. Someone who truly loves you wouldn't treat you like that.”*
*“...It’s not like that... Master is very good to me.”*
*“Imprisoning you, keeping you as a pet, refusing to let you seek treatment—that’s being good to you?”*
*“...”*
*The doctor is right. Plenty of people care about me.*
*I don't need to obsess over a fake love anymore.*
He told himself this. For a split second, Si Jiang truly wanted to believe those words.
Inadvertently, he glanced toward the spectator area. There was only one person who wasn't looking at him, standing out like a sore thumb.
It was Zong Yan.
Amidst the crowd looking at him with fervor, the person who had walked away from him in countless dreams had once again turned her back to him, looking in another direction.
Si Jiang’s gaze followed her uncontrollably.
*She’s not looking at me. Who is she looking for?*
—It was a man.
Who was that?
Retreating to the edge of the court, he heard a girl say, "Isn't that Bai Mao? He came to find the Senior."
Bai Mao.
Mao Mao.
Those names bored into his mind. The beautiful, hollow bubbles floating in his heart suddenly burst, and countless images from the past flooded his brain.
*“Si Jiang, you are my pet.”*
*“So, you must never abandon me.”*
Si Jiang’s head throbbed with a splitting pain. He hunched his back, clutching his hair.
"Watch out!"
He was knocked over by a teammate who couldn't react in time, slamming heavily onto the ground.
A gasp erupted from the crowd as a group of people swarmed over.
"Si Jiang, are you okay?"
"Sorry, I didn't mean it! I didn't notice you'd stopped."
"Are you alright? Any injuries? Do you need to go to the infirmary?"
The voices of the boys and girls sounded like a malfunctioning radio, piercing his eardrums like needles.
Si Jiang curled his body, lying on the ground. He opened his eyes. "So noisy."
His expression was hideous. Everyone froze and instinctively backed away.
Gasping for air, Si Jiang climbed up from the ground, clutching his right arm which had taken the brunt of the fall. His brows were tightly knit. Blood was slowly seeping through his clothes.
"You're bleeding!" someone cried out.
So what if he was bleeding? What was there to scream about?
Si Jiang pulled up his sleeve to check his elbow. Sure enough, it was a bloody mess.
"It's deep. You need to go to the infirmary to get that treated."
He was surrounded. See? He could have whatever he wanted now; there were plenty of people concerned about him.
But that figure still stood far away, with no intention of coming over.
Of course.
That person didn't care about him at all. Whether he was dead or alive, whether he was glorious or pathetic, that gaze would never fall upon him again.
Through the gaps in the crowd surrounding him, he could only watch as she walked toward another man.
Leaving him behind in endless agony.
***
When Si Jiang woke up again, he was lying on a bed in the infirmary.
Perhaps to avoid disturbing him, the lights in the room had been turned off. He didn't know how long he had slept, but it was already pitch black outside. There wasn't a single sound in the room; it was so quiet it felt as if he had been severed from the world.
Si Jiang’s entire body froze instantly.
In the darkness, his pupils dilated, trembling uncontrollably.
"No..."
*Huff... huff...*
The breathing in his chest grew increasingly rapid. His windpipe couldn't handle the strain, making a sound like a wheezing bellows.
Si Jiang clearly perceived a figure slowly standing up from a deep, dark corner, walking toward him step by step.
"Caught you."
The ghostly shadow, carrying an endless darkness, drifted onto him.
Face to face, shoulder to shoulder.
It reached out a rotting hand and squeezed his throat.
"Let's go to hell together."
That ghostly hand was covered in scars. The fingers gradually tightened their grip. The ghostly face drew closer and closer, until its nose was almost touching Si Jiang’s.
Si Jiang struggled desperately, but he couldn't make a sound. He could only watch as that face—identical to his own but crawling with maggots—prepared to merge with him.
"He..."
*Someone, save me...*
"The person who would save you doesn't want you anymore," the ghost shadow laughed hoarsely, filled with mockery. "Did you forget? She said she was throwing out trash, and then she left you on a park bench."
"No one picks up trash once it's been thrown away."
Si Jiang opened his mouth in agony. Oxygen was leaving but not entering. His eyes were stretched to the point of bursting; tears mixed with blood broke across his skin, seeping behind his ears.
It triggered a searing pain.
Over the past year, he had bleached and dyed his hair countless times. His scalp seemed to be in a perpetually fragile and sensitive state. Yet he didn't care, obsessing over his hair color over and over again as if possessed.
As if trying to remember something.
Or perhaps to remind himself to hate something.
"Zh..."
"What did you say?" the ghost shadow asked.
It leaned in too close. The maggots in its eye sockets were teetering, about to crawl into Si Jiang’s eyes.
Si Jiang shook his head frantically, using his head to bash against the ghost shadow on top of him. Thud, thud, thud—the sounds echoed through the infirmary.
"Si Jiang."
The ghost shadow was tempting him again.
"Si Jiang."
He didn't want to listen.
"Si Jiang!"
What?
His cold arm was suddenly gripped by a warm palm.
"What are you doing?"
He looked up blankly.
"Si Jiang, let go. Stop moving."
Such a familiar voice... the voice he had once craved to hear every single day.
But he was about to lose consciousness from the lack of air, and his ears were filled with a buzzing drone.
"Be good, let go!"
At that cold, commanding tone, Si Jiang froze.
Zong Yan hurriedly pried Si Jiang’s hands away from his own throat and dragged him away from the wall. She turned on her phone's flashlight, casting a beam of white light into the room.
"What are you doing? Self-harm?"
She had heard Si Jiang was left in the infirmary. When she arrived and found the lights off, she already had a bad premonition. Upon entering, she heard someone in the corner slamming their head against the wall. It was as if he were possessed, trying to take his own life.
She had rushed over only to see Si Jiang choking himself like a man under a spell, bashing himself against the wall. His face was already turning purple from severe oxygen deprivation.
With his hands pried away, Si Jiang took a sharp breath and began to cough violently.
His brain was screaming in protest, stars dancing before his eyes. His powerless body was steadily supported by a pair of hands.
Ah... the scent of cheap soap.
In the chaos, he smelled that familiar fragrance. Like finding a life-saving spring of water, the wanderer who had been lost in the desert for so long suddenly relaxed.
He plunged headlong into that cold embrace.
***
