Side Story | The Origin of Zero

Zero first wore the number zero jersey in seventh grade.

He didn’t choose it.

That day, the jerseys were being handed out. Most of the numbers had already been picked. Someone grabbed number one. Others took seven or ten, joking about how “smooth” or “lucky” they sounded.

When it was Zero’s turn, only two jerseys remained.

One was number thirty-eight.
The other was zero.

Thirty-eight looked bulky. The digits pressed together, awkward and clumsy.

Zero, however, saw the zero jersey as clean.

He picked it up. The fabric still smelled faintly of washing, and across the chest was only a single, round “0.”

The people nearby laughed.

“You chose zero?”
“Zero points?”
“Does that mean the benchwarmer never plays?”

Zero didn’t explain.

He just hugged the jersey to his chest.

That first game, he went on the court late.

The score was already lopsided. Spectators were leaving. Nobody was defending seriously. Someone casually said as he stepped on the court:

“Eh, it’s just number zero.”

Zero caught the ball in the backcourt.

He didn’t look at the hoop.

He passed to a teammate who had been ignored.

Score.

Next possession, same thing.

Score again.

That day, he didn’t score a single point.

In the stat sheet, the points column read—
0.

But assists? The most on the team.

People started calling him.

Not by his name.

Just—“Zero.”

At first it was a joke.

Later it became a habit.

And eventually… a part of him.

By eighth grade, the team got new jerseys.

Someone suggested he pick a new number.

“You play well now. You don’t need zero anymore.”

Zero shook his head.

He knew that number zero wasn’t about nothing.

It was about starting from zero.

No natural advantage.

No physical gift.

No one assuming he would succeed.

Every time he stepped on the court, he was proving it all over again.

On the day of high school tryouts, there was a column on the form:
Jersey Number (optional)

Zero wrote a single digit.

Zhou Qiming looked up when he saw it.

“Do you know what zero means?”

Zero nodded.

“Yes.”

“What does it mean?”

Zero thought for a moment, then said:

“It means I don’t owe anything.”

Zhou Qiming didn’t ask further.

Later, when Zero stepped onto the league court, people finally understood—

The quietest number could be the hardest to replace.

Because it didn’t represent a starting point.

It represented an attitude.