The Fleeting Youth of Those Years

Fan Guang and Da Hei were arguing intensely on the sidelines. Da Hei chuckled and said, “Fan Guang, you can’t go. You’re no longer a part of Class 2 in the third year of high school. If you join, it would be against the rules.”

“Then you can’t play either. If you do, this game won’t be fair,” Fan Guang replied resolutely, leaning against the basketball hoop.

“I have to play.” Although Da Hei’s tone was firm, his face still carried a friendly smile. It seemed this game was a breeze for them.

The game began.

Bao Le grabbed the ball and just as he started his shooting motion, Da Hei swatted it all the way to the midcourt. Xiao Hei immediately dashed over, effortlessly running in for a fast-break layup.

After the ball was inbounded, Ding Peng, our team’s center, shockingly dribbled the ball across the half-court. But out of nowhere, Xiao Hei sprang forward, stealing the ball and sinking a three-pointer from beyond the arc…

Each scene was a painful sight. The score on the board reflected an ever-widening gap between us and them.

“I’m going in,” said Fan Guang as he pulled off his jacket and appealed to the referee.

White Dove glanced at Fan Guang and then at Da Hei. Da Hei nodded and said, “Go ahead, go ahead.”

However, Fan Guang’s entry didn’t make much of a difference. Tragically, he became the perfect backdrop for their show-stopping plays. Xiao Hei drove the ball, stopped abruptly, and pulled up for a jump shot, scoring again. He then dribbled just beyond the three-point line, leapt, and nailed yet another three-pointer over Fan Guang-three-pointer after three-pointer, again and again…

In summary, Xiao Hei’s relentless barrage of threes left us gritting our teeth. They didn’t need Da Hei’s towering height to crush us; instead, they relied on these infuriatingly absurd three-pointers.

San Guang attempted one last layup, jumping into the air, but Da Hei swatted it down with one powerful block. With a dull thud, Fan Guang fell to the ground like a bird with broken wings, lying flat on his back. For the first time, I witnessed someone performing a free-fall in real life. Yet, instead of awe at witnessing a miracle, my heart was filled with a strange emptiness. Our classmates quickly gathered around him.

“Are you okay?” Da Hei extended a hand kindly to help Fan Guang up.

“That block was a foul,” Fan Guang said, his face slightly red as he still reached out his hand.

“Yeah, yeah, it was a foul,” Da Hei admitted apologetically. But from his demeanor, it was clear that conceding the foul was purely out of politeness. I cursed internally.

With Fan Guang’s exit from the game, our team’s journey was over. We didn’t make it any further. While we all felt a twinge of regret, there was no disappointment, because we had been earnest about this from the beginning.

Yes, as long as we give it our all, even in failure, what is there to regret? And as for those who defeated us, what reason do they have to boast?

The greatest enemy in this world is oneself. If you dare to face yourself, what is there to fear? Those who can confront themselves may be defeated, but they can never truly be broken. This statement is not contradictory at all. I firmly believe it.

When a relationship grows old, injecting fresh blood into the loneliness, falling in love with licking wounds behind closed doors-often we don’t realize it’s merely a ritual to mourn what once was. In the end, the one who gets lost is yourself.

On the other end of the phone, Wang Bo was pouring his heart out about a breakup. I offered a wry smile as I tried to comfort him.

“I really never imagined we would break up,” Wang Bo said in a choked voice.

“My teeth hurt,” I replied lazily, lying on the spacious bed.

“I just broke up! You should be comforting me properly,” Wang Bo’s tone turned slightly distorted, exactly as I intended.

“Hey, Wang Bo, you know my teeth often hurt, don’t you?” I chuckled, my left hand fiddling with our graduation photo from back then. Wen Youhan’s face had already become blurry. It was the graduation photo from 2007. I hadn’t shelled out the five yuan to get it laminated; instead, I had taped it myself. Over time, moisture had seeped in, causing many faces in the photo to fade, their features gradually diverging from the memories in my mind.

“Yeah, I think your teeth do hurt often…” Wang Bo pondered for a moment before responding.