Zheng stood on the court, trying to steady his breath despite the rapid pounding of his heart. His eyes were fixed on Jian, who stood just a few feet away, calm and composed as always. The third quarter was nearing its midpoint, and the scoreboard showed a twelve-point gap.
Zheng clenched his fists as he wiped the sweat from his brow. Was it still the same? The gap between them?
His mind drifted back to that day years ago. The first time, he'd asked Jian to play. How easily he'd been defeated.
He lost, and he watched as Jian walked away from him like it was nothing. However, Zheng had said something that day—something that stuck with him.
"I'll meet you there someday," he had told Jian after their one-on-one match.
Jian had raised an eyebrow at him, not turning around. His hand had waved carelessly over his shoulder.
