dmims Chapter 166
Chapter 166
His left hand still wasn't working. When the ball bounced off his hand, it always went astray, like a disobedient dog pulling on its leash and running to the side. He gritted his teeth and dribbled the ball again and again, slamming it down with force each time, trying to make the ball bounce as high as his right hand.
On the 300th trip, someone walked over from the direction of the dormitory building.
The footsteps were very light, but Lin Feng heard them.
He looked up.
Chen Hao was wearing a white T-shirt and black sweatpants, holding a book in his hand—the second volume of "New Concept English." He walked to the edge of the open space, glanced at Lin Feng, then found a step to sit on, opened the book, and began to read.
He didn't speak, and neither did Lin Feng.
One was dribbling the ball, and the other was reading a book.
When he reached the five-hundredth attempt, Lin Feng stopped and took a breath. He glanced at Chen Hao—Chen Hao was looking down at a book, the morning light reflecting a pale blue hue off his glasses.
Lin Feng didn't disturb him and continued running.
He dribbled the ball with his left hand as he moved, traversing the entire court. When the open space wasn't big enough, he would back and forth, dribbling from one end to the other, turning around, and then dribbling back. Chen Hao sat on the steps, occasionally glancing up before lowering his head to continue reading.
At 6:30, the plateau arrived.
He was wearing a wrinkled T-shirt, his hair was sticking up, and his eyes weren't fully open yet. He was holding a piece of bread, munching on it as he walked, leaving crumbs all around him.
"Are you two crazy?" he mumbled, still chewing on bread. "Getting up so early to practice? Six-thirty, only six-thirty."
Chen Hao didn't even look up. "It's because you got up too late."
Gao Yuan walked over and plopped down next to Chen Hao, kicking up a small cloud of dust on the steps. He stuffed the rest of the bread into his mouth, chewed a few times, swallowed, and then burped.
"Lin Feng, what time did you get up?"
Five o'clock.
Gao Yuan was stunned for a moment. "Five o'clock? Are you crazy?"
Lin Feng ignored him and continued dribbling.
Gao Yuan watched for a while, then stood up, dusted himself off, walked to the middle of the open space, and snatched the ball from Lin Feng's hands.
"Come on, I'll practice with you. Left hand against left hand."
He stood opposite Lin Feng, bent down, and dribbled the ball with his left hand.
"Come on, take mine."
Lin Feng reached for the ball, but Gao Yuan easily dodged it with a behind-the-back hand switch, transferring the ball from his left to his right hand.
"Too slow. Lower your center of gravity a bit more, and when you reach out, you need to anticipate the ball's trajectory, not just follow it."
Lin Feng nodded and started again.
The two practiced for twenty minutes. Gao Yuan's left-handed dribbling wasn't particularly good—he's right-handed, his left hand is just passable—but it was much better than Lin Feng's. He shouted as he dribbled, "Reach out! Steal! Yes! Again!"
Chen Hao sat on the steps, a book on his lap, but he wasn't reading it. Through his glasses, he watched the two people vying for the ball in the morning light, and his lips twitched slightly, it was hard to tell whether it was a smile or something else.
At seven o'clock, the training hall opened.
Three people went inside.
Several players had already arrived and were shooting on the court. Sun Hao—the 2.05-meter center—was practicing his hook shot under the basket, the ball sliding in one after another, his movements slow but steady, each ball following almost the same trajectory.
Liu Yang is stretching. His legs are very long, and when he bends forward, his palms can touch the ground completely, making him look like a folded ruler.
Lin Feng walked to the sidelines, put down his bag, and began to warm up.