Chapter 13｜Choice

When the third quarter began, the score gap had shrunk to just three points.

The opposing team didn’t panic.

They were still slow, still tough, like a cold, wet cloth pressed against your face. Zero stood at the top of the arc, feeling the defender closer than ever, their breath almost in his ear.

They began to believe one thing—
As long as they could pressure Zero, this game would return to their rhythm.

Zero knew.

So he slowed down even more.

On the first possession, he didn’t touch the ball.

The ball moved along the wing, back and forth, while he stayed on the weak side, like a point that didn’t exist. The opponent’s attention was forced to scatter, and a nearly invisible gap appeared in their defensive line.

Zero cut suddenly.

Received the pass.

Stopped on a dime.

Shot.

Swish.

The gap shrank to one point.

A soft gasp rose from the sidelines.

Second possession.

The opposing point guard began applying pressure, pressing harder, trying to break the rhythm with physicality. Zero didn’t engage. Instead, he passed the ball early and immediately ran forward—not to receive it again, but to stretch the defense.

The opponent hesitated for just a moment.

That moment was all his teammates needed.

Three-pointer.

Lead change.

The other team called a timeout.

After the timeout, their strategy was clear.

They no longer orbited around Zero. They sped up ball movement, using continuous inside-outside plays to create mismatches. Two successful possessions, and they regained the lead.

Zero caught the ball in the backcourt, heart rate climbing.

This was a tug-of-war.

This was the true rhythm of the game.

He glanced at the scoreboard, then at the timer.

Time was pressing.

Fourth possession.

Zero advanced with the ball. The defender gave him a step.

A gamble.

Betting he wouldn’t shoot.

Zero didn’t shoot immediately.

He dribbled one step forward.

The defender contracted.

Zero passed immediately to the cutting big man.

Score.

Next possession.

Same formation.

Same hesitation from the defense.

This time, Zero didn’t even pause.

Jumped.

Shot.

The ball sailed under the lights.

Score.

Zero didn’t change expression.

But someone on the sidelines stood up.

Before the fourth quarter, the score was tied again.

The bench was silent.

Zhou Qiming looked at Zero, said nothing, and simply put away the tactics board.

Fourth quarter.

The opponents started double-teaming.

Not a half trap—complete containment. As soon as Zero received the ball, two defenders closed in to force a stop.

Zero didn’t push through.

He raised the ball high and passed early.

The pass wasn’t perfect.

It was slightly tipped.

The referee didn’t call it.

Ball out of bounds.

Possession to the other team.

Zero stood on the sideline, feeling a clear pressure for the first time—
Not fear of losing, but the fear that a single mistake could ruin the whole game.

Next possession.

The opponent ran a complex play, multiple screens, pulling Zero’s defender away. Zero was late by half a beat, and the opposing player hit a mid-range jumper.

Down by two.

Four minutes left.

Zhou Qiming didn’t call a timeout.

Zero stood at the top of the arc and took a deep breath.

The ball came to his hands.

The double team formed immediately.

This time, Zero didn’t pass to the safest option.

He threw it back.

To the teammate who had been cold all game, but was now completely open.

The entire arena seemed to pause.

Shot.

Score.

Lead by one.

Zero retreated on defense, chest rising and falling.

He knew that if that shot hadn’t gone in, the criticism would have been endless.

Yet he had chosen anyway.

Not a gamble with life.

A choice of trust.

The opponents rushed back.

Attempted to drive aggressively, but were stopped.

Rebound.

Ball to Zero.

He didn’t speed up.

He controlled the clock.

Second by second.

The other team began to foul.

Zero stepped to the free-throw line.

First shot.

Score.

Second shot.

Missed.

Scramble for the rebound.

Ball tipped out of bounds.

Final two minutes.

Up by two.

Zero stood on the court, suddenly realizing something—
He was no longer thinking, “I must win.”

He was thinking—
How to see the game through.