Chapter Twenty-Six: Sword and Hammer

The two teams could be likened in style to a sword and a hammer. Under Lin Fei’s direction, the Business Administration team played at a fast tempo with a dazzling style—sharp and swift like a sword, emphasizing speed, precision, and agile movement. In contrast, the Physical Education team was powerful and robust, resembling a hammer—relying on strength and force, with movements marked by solidity and steadiness. This analysis seemed to capture their essence more thoroughly.

Before taking the court, Cui Yong addressed the Business Administration players: “We’re now within reach of the trophy. In this world, it’s often the winner who takes all. If you lose, no one but yourself will remember your name—instead, they’ll remember the victors. Since we’ve come this far, don’t dwell on how hard the last step might be; just keep moving forward. We are warriors in a duel. Win or lose, even if defeat seems inevitable, we must still draw our swords and fight to the end.”

He was, without a doubt, the true leader of the team. “No matter what happens, I hope each of you gets on the court, and each of you scores. Remember, being out there isn’t to commemorate our past achievements, but to challenge for the final victory. Remember: every one of you must score at least once.”

He had clearly changed—compared to yesterday’s practice, he was now resolute, unwavering.

“Hey, it’s up to you now, brother!” Cui Yong murmured to Lin Fei.

Lin Fei looked at him, nodded slowly in assurance, and extended his fist for a bump. True comrades are those who stand with you even when the world begins to doubt you, and real friends are the ones who will turn their backs on the world with you, without hesitation, when everyone else does.

As for the Physical Education team, in previous games they averaged 90 points per match, their offense formidable; their opponents could only manage an average of 60. These numbers alone were daunting; as for rebounds and assists, there was no need to even mention them.

At tipoff, the Phys Ed team fielded mostly substitutes—players who rarely saw playtime. Today, it was as if they were treating it as a training exercise. Their coach didn’t even show up; it was clear they didn’t take the Business Administration team seriously. The starters sat on the bench, taking it easy.

But have you considered this: if the Phys Ed team were to lose, what would happen to the reputation of the school team? Would it be dissolved? Even though the school team had never accomplished much in the collegiate league, it was still a symbol of the university—like an old, shabby teaching building that could never be torn down. For the Phys Ed team, this was almost a home game; many of their players were campus idols, and even the referees might side with them. In their eyes, it was acceptable for Business Administration to lose, but not the Phys Ed team.

The gym was packed, people pouring in. The Business Administration section seemed especially large—after all, this was a historic run for them. The Phys Ed team’s supporters, by contrast, were less exuberant, having grown used to the cheers over time. Some probably even thought the crowd was there for them. The Business Administration cheerleaders stood out in their bright green attire, led by Duan Tingting, whose beauty could captivate an entire arena.

The Phys Ed team won possession. Number 3, known around campus as “Iverson,” brought up the ball, with Lin Fei guarding him. Among Lin Fei’s matchups in this tournament, this opponent was relatively weaker physically, but their styles were similar—both exceptionally fast, skilled ball handlers, strong playmakers. Lin Fei’s eyes locked onto Number 3’s, intensely focused. He had taught himself to read an opponent’s intent through their eyes—the window to the soul. Most people might miss the subtle clues, but to a keen observer like Lin Fei, they revealed everything.

Lin Fei knew that aside from his own position as point guard, there was a significant disparity across the rest of the matchups. To win, he would need to outplay his opposite number so thoroughly that it would lift the entire team’s performance.

Number 3 attempted a behind-the-back dribble, two quick crossovers, then leapt for a pull-up jumper—openly taunting them. Lin Fei sprang forward, body pressing in, and managed to tip the ball. It flew above Number 3’s head. Before his feet touched the ground, Lin Fei chased after it. Another Phys Ed player sprinted for the loose ball, but Lin Fei got there first. The other player barreled into Lin Fei’s side, sending him tumbling, but Lin Fei clung fiercely to the ball. Foul on Phys Ed; Business Administration gained possession. Right from the start, Lin Fei’s hustle was relentless—he was clearly determined to give everything today.

Lin Fei inbounded the ball, sprinted up the court, received a pass at the three-point line, stopped abruptly, and launched a quick jumper—draining a three to open the game and striking first blood against the Phys Ed team.

But such an early statement barely rattled them; their skills and composure had long been honed. Number 3 brought the ball up and lobbed it inside. The Phys Ed team towered over their opponents with an average height near 190 centimeters. Facing defenders half a head shorter, Cui Yong, tasked with guarding the paint, was outmatched in stature but held his ground fiercely, contesting every inch near the rim. Still, the Phys Ed team’s inside game carved through Business Administration’s defense with ease. On court, Cui Yong felt like Yao Ming’s old Rockets teammate—tenacious and smart on defense, only limited by his height.

Now it was Business Administration’s turn on offense. Lin Fei showcased his brilliant ball-handling—no matter who guarded him, he was past them in a second, across half court in three, and shooting within eight. Strangely, the team played with unusual vigor after Lin Fei’s opening three, with three more players also sinking threes in quick succession. If the Phys Ed team dominated inside, Business Administration would simply attack from outside—their shooters ready and waiting.

“Every player must score”—and they truly lived up to that promise. Lin Fei’s quick drives exploited Phys Ed’s disorganized, unsystematic defense, allowing him to set up teammates for easy baskets time and again.

The Phys Ed team, however, relied on high-percentage shots, only taking them when confident. Their approach was steady, balancing inside and outside, trusting in the quality of every player—each an elite within the university.

Business Administration called a timeout to adjust tactics, switching to a packed-in defense, daring Phys Ed to shoot over them. Lin Fei wasn’t fully confident in this strategy, but with the disparity in strength, they had to try anything.

Lin Fei also realized the Phys Ed team was even stronger than he’d anticipated. The substitutes on their team, who could barely make the school squad, already had remarkable basketball IQ and court vision. It was hard to imagine how good the starters must be. And without a coach, they could still organize a smooth offense—impressive indeed. Business Administration had at least practiced together and built some chemistry, but the Phys Ed team relied entirely on individual awareness and ability. Any of their players could take over a game, and all could explode at any moment.

On the court, Lin Fei could only keep scoring relentlessly. He didn’t know how long he could hold out, as the opposition was much tougher than expected. He also knew that once he left the game, no one else could match the Phys Ed team’s energy. Still, much of his effort was devoted to orchestrating the offense, just as he’d promised—to get every teammate on the scoreboard, knowing how much it would mean for each of them.

At the end of the first quarter, the score was 30–28; Business Administration led by two. The match felt reminiscent of the opening of the 2008 Olympics game between China and the USA—China able to keep pace with the Americans for a brief stretch. The difference in strength between the two teams was like that between China’s and America’s men’s basketball teams, except here, Business Administration’s main scoring threat came from the perimeter, unlike China’s reliance on Yao Ming. This gave them a slight advantage—a guard’s scoring was often more versatile than a center’s.

It was unexpected, truly unexpected, that the Phys Ed team not only failed to crush Business Administration in the first quarter, but actually trailed by two. What a blow to their pride!

The crowd began to buzz with excited conversation, the atmosphere electric.

Lin Fei glanced at the cheerleaders, but in his eyes, there was only Duan Tingting. He wanted her—his senior—to see how he could lead his team to victory.

The second quarter began. The Phys Ed lineup remained unchanged, while Business Administration made a slight adjustment: Cui Yong took a rest, replaced by another player. Curiously, Lin Fei was no longer bringing the ball up; someone else was organizing the offense. Why? It was hard to understand.

After the break, the Phys Ed team returned to the court with renewed resolve, storming the paint against the Business Administration defense. In a flurry of plays, they drew multiple fouls, and Business Administration reached the free-throw limit early in the period—a decidedly bad sign.

What to do now? Phys Ed gradually asserted their advantage, overtaking the lead. In just six minutes, they were up by eight. During this stretch, Business Administration’s offense stalled completely. That’s the nature of outside shooting—when you’re hot, no one can stop you; when you’re cold, you can’t hit anything, no matter how open the shot. Against Phys Ed’s relentless interior attack, their defense crumbled, and everyone was racking up fouls.

Lin Fei realized the team was in a tough spot. He’d ceded control of the offense to a teammate to save energy for scoring, but hadn’t anticipated things would unravel so quickly.

“We’ll press them the whole way! If we have to burn out, so be it!” Lin Fei declared fiercely.

This strategy paid off. After building their lead, Phys Ed grew complacent, and the Business Administration team’s desperate full-court press forced a string of turnovers, narrowing the gap to within four.

On the final play of the second quarter, with only six seconds left, Lin Fei took control. In crunch time, he was the obvious choice—the only player on either team with that kind of range. Even the crowd knew it. He lowered his breathing rate, drawing deeper breaths, steadying his steps—clearly in control of his own rhythm, his eyes brimming with determination. His teammates spread the floor, giving him all the space he needed, knowing this moment belonged to him.

Calmly, with just six seconds on the clock, you could sense his inner stillness in every dribble. With a sudden burst, Lin Fei accelerated. The floor was wide open, and no one from Phys Ed was close enough. At half court, he leapt and launched a three—a shot from way downtown. The ball soared as the buzzer sounded and the clock froze at zero. Now, all that remained was to see: would it go in?