Chapter 253: Next Thursday, No One Will Be Home

Sunday, sunny. 

As Xiang Ri held Miss An tightly in his arms, both still deep in slumber, a sudden phone call rudely shattered his dream. 

Awakening groggily, Xiang Ri was visibly irritated. Glancing at the screen, he answered with an impatient tone, "Hello? Bamboo Stick, what do you want now?" 

Being roused so early in the morning had clearly put him in a foul mood, enough that his usual silent grumbles found their way into his words. 

"Idiot! The match is about to start, and you're still lounging at home? Get to the school, now!" The voice on the other end roared with fury, only to escalate further, as if struck by realization. "Wait a minute—what did you just call me? Say it again if you dare!" 

"You must've misheard, oh esteemed manager," Xiang Ri quickly pivoted, realizing now was not the time to spar with her. Eager to change the subject, he added, "The match, right? Alright, I'm heading out now." He prepared to hang up. 

But just then, an unexpected sound—a soft, peculiar moan—came from beside him. His old, outdated phone faithfully transmitted it to the other end. 

The sharp-eared manager immediately latched onto the provocative noise. Her tone turned sharp and accusatory. "There's a woman with you?" 

"Uh..." Xiang Ri drew out his response, eventually confirming, "Yes." 

For some inexplicable reason, he felt like a guilty husband caught red-handed. Shaking his head, he dismissed the absurd thought. 

It wasn't as scandalous as it seemed. While on the call, he'd unconsciously caressed Miss An's silken-clad figure. Though his touch was innocent, it had been enough to stir her from her slumber, prompting that soft sound. Now, with her making such a noise, it was clear she was waking up. 

Hearing his candid admission, the manager's tone grew colder. "Hmph! Knowing there's a match today, and yet you're fooling around? If we lose, you'll bear the consequences!" 

"That won't happen," Xiang Ri replied confidently. Noticing Miss An's eyes flutter open, he hastened, "Alright, if there's nothing else..." 

"Wait!" Two voices interrupted simultaneously—one belonging to the now-awake Miss An, the other to the manager, who seemed to sense his intent to end the call. 

But before the latter could continue, the former swiftly acted, snatching the phone from his hand. 

"Hello? Who's looking for my boyfriend?" Miss An asked sweetly, her deliberate emphasis on the words "my boyfriend" unmistakable. 

She'd been awake all along, merely feigning sleep. Thanks to his phone's not-so-private speaker, she'd overheard the female voice on the call. Suspicious, she'd pretended to sleep to eavesdrop further. However, Xiang Ri's distracted movements had elicited her involuntary reaction. 

When she saw he was about to end the call, she took matters into her own hands. She needed to find out who this other woman was. 

"An... Sister An?" came the uncertain voice from the other side. 

"Oh? Sister Ren?" Miss An immediately recognized her, glaring daggers at Xiang Ri before feigning a sudden realization. "Ah, you're here to remind Xiang Kui about the match? Got it. I'll send him over right away." 

Holding the phone conspicuously in front of her, she then raised her voice theatrically. "Xiang Kui, get off me already! You've got a match to play!" 

Xi Ri was momentarily dumbfounded, wondering how he'd been accused of lying on her when he was clearly seated beside her. Then it dawned on him—her words weren't meant for him but for the woman on the other end. He couldn't help but chuckle bitterly. 

As expected, the voice on the other end hurriedly said, "Goodbye," and ended the call. 

Watching Miss An's triumphant grin, Xiang Ri suddenly leaned forward, pinning her beneath him, and kissed her deeply. 

Miss An hastily pressed her hands against his chest, exclaiming, "What are you doing? It's already late! Qingqing might hear us!" 

Ignoring her protests, Xiang Ri seized her wrists and pinned them to the pillow. With a mischievous smile, he replied, "So what if she hears? Besides, didn't you just say I was lying on you? Well, now I'm just making that statement true!" 

And with that, he pressed down fully. 

"Mmm...!" Her muffled protests escaped through the kiss, but her struggles only seemed to inflame him further.

She could distinctly feel the man's hand slipping beneath the hem of her blouse, brushing against the soft skin of her waist. His touch lingered there, hesitant yet unwilling to part, as though poised to venture further at any moment.

At the critical moment, Miss An seized the opportunity while the man's right hand was still recovering, freeing one of her hands to firmly restrain the mischievous hand roaming over her body.

Simultaneously, she pushed his face away and, with a hint of reproach, remarked, "I told you Qingqing might hear us, yet you still won't stop. Last night… wasn't that enough for you? My hand is still sore even now."

Xiang Ri chuckled nonchalantly, entirely unbothered. "Weren't you the one who said I was on top of you? It's only natural—men above, women below, as the heavens decree! And as for your hand, that's hardly my fault. Who told you to refuse to give me what I wanted?"

By the end of his words, Xiang Ri had successfully shifted all the blame onto Miss An.

"You—" An Xin's face turned crimson in an instant. Could she give it to him? If she did, it wouldn't be her hand that hurt—it would be her entire body. 

This topic, however, was far too embarrassing for her to dwell on. Instead, she latched onto the flaw in his earlier statement, retorting, "Why must it be men above and women below? I refuse to believe that!" With that, she made a move to flip herself on top of him. Xiang Ri, realizing he wouldn't lose out either way, simply let her have her way. 

When she finally straddled him, An Xin swayed triumphantly. "See? Now it's women above and men below."

For Xiang Ri, pinned beneath her, it was a mix of torment and pleasure. After all, Miss An had a habit of sleeping in a silk blouse with nothing underneath but a pair of tiny panties. In this state, coupled with her restless movements, wasn't she tempting fate? 

Unable to endure it any longer, Xiang Ri wrapped his arms around her, pulling her tightly into his embrace. 

Miss An finally felt something—something that made her flush even more deeply, the redness spreading all the way to her ears. Catching the man's mischievous gaze, she angrily pinched his waist. "Let me down now!"

"Weren't you the one who insisted on being on top?" Xiang Ri teased shamelessly. But seeing that Miss An was on the verge of erupting, he finally released her. 

Once freed, An Xin retaliated with another sharp pinch before leaping off the bed and announcing, "I'm going to shower!" She darted out of the room, clearly flustered by Xiang Ri's earlier remark. 

"Didn't you say you wanted to be on top?" Xiang Ri teased, taking full advantage of the situation. But noticing that Miss An was on the brink of exploding, he finally let her go.

Once free, An Xin delivered another sharp jab at him before leaping off the bed. Throwing out the curt words, "I'm going to shower," she dashed out of the room, clearly rattled by Xiang Ri's previous remark.

"We could shower together..." Xiang Ri began, but seeing that Miss An had already vanished without a trace, he could only sigh and drop the idea. 

After hastily finishing his breakfast, Xiang Ri arrived at school, only to find that most of the morning had already slipped away. Evidently, a certain manager was far from pleased. The moment she saw him, her fury erupted, delivering a sharp scolding: "Are you a snail? How are you only just arriving now? Do you have any idea the match starts in an hour? Do you know how long we've all been waiting for you?"

As she spoke, Ren Jun gestured toward the other team members around her, her intimidating glare making each one lower their heads. 

In truth, Ren Jun's anger wasn't solely about his tardiness. From the fragments she overheard during their earlier phone call, she couldn't help but suspect that, after hanging up, Xiang Ri had indulged in some tender moments with a certain "Sister An." Otherwise, how could it have taken him this long to arrive? 

At the thought of this, her mood grew increasingly sour. 

"An hour left? That means there's plenty of time," Xiang Ri remarked indifferently, showing no reaction whatsoever to the scolding from the tall, slender woman. His nonchalant attitude only served to further inflame Ren Jun's temper. Yet, realizing the inappropriate setting with so many people present and the impending match just forty minutes away, she suppressed her anger. With a bitter expression, she threw a package at him. "Here, your jersey and sneakers!"

"Mine?" Xiang Ri caught it casually, surprised to find he had his own set. 

He had assumed he'd be wearing the same jersey as last time—the one belonging to player No. 7—but to his astonishment, the tall manager had prepared a brand-new set for him. Opening it, he discovered a red jersey with white trim, exuding a youthful and energetic vibe. The number remained 7. 

Noticing the large "7" on the back, Xiang Ri couldn't help but wonder if it was, in fact, the same jersey from before, as it looked nearly identical. He glanced at the player beside him, a teammate of similar height, who had lent him his No. 7 jersey last time. Now, the player wore a jersey with No. 11, which seemed to confirm Xiang Ri's suspicion.

But the former No. 7—now No. 11—shattered his assumption with his enthusiastic chatter. Approaching with a look of envy, he began babbling, "Boss, you don't know, but this jersey was specially prepared by the big boss herself. I was hoping you'd wear my jersey again so I could bask in your glory, but the big boss said—"

"Shut up!" Ren Jun cut him off with a sharp glare, silencing him mid-sentence and making him retreat sheepishly.

Only then did Ren Jun turn to Xiang Ri and command, "Hurry up and change. We're leaving soon." 

"You're not expecting me to change here, are you?" While Xiang Ri felt a hint of gratitude for the customized uniform, the idea of changing in such a public space gave him pause.

After all, they were in the school gymnasium—a wide-open area with no privacy. If it had been an all-male environment, he wouldn't have cared, but with the tall manager present, he had to consider the situation carefully.

Ren Jun's reply, however, was completely unexpected. "Given the time crunch, we have no choice." As she spoke, she turned her back to him, clearly signaling her disinterest in stooping to such voyeuristic behavior. 

"Huh?" Her nonchalant remark stunned not only Xiang Ri but also the other players. 

It was the first time they'd seen their strict manager so accommodating. Normally, even the slightest hint of an inappropriate topic would earn a severe reprimand. Yet today, she seemed unexpectedly lenient.

At first, they assumed that such a question would undoubtedly provoke a fierce response from the manager. Yet, the reality left everyone wide-eyed with surprise. However, upon recalling that this was the miraculous No. 7, any lingering resentment in their hearts quickly dissipated. 

Who was No. 7? He was the formidable figure capable of shattering a basketball hoop. Even if jealousy lingered in their hearts, it was eclipsed by the undeniable truth—his unparalleled talent left no room for complaint. 

Since even the "Tall Manager" didn't seem to mind, Xiang Ri decided to forgo any pretenses. Without further ado, he swiftly changed into the new jersey. 

Little did he know, this seemingly casual gesture was part of Manager Ren's strategy to ease herself into what lay ahead. The wager still weighed heavily on her mind—after all, if they won, she would have to surrender something precious: her first time. 

Given that far more embarrassing moments awaited her, this seemed like a mere warm-up in comparison. 

"Done," Xiang Ri announced casually, addressing Ren Jun's back. As she turned around, he gestured to his old clothes. "What should I do with these?" 

"Hand them over." Ren Jun grabbed his clothes without hesitation, stuffing them into the bag that had previously held the new uniform. 

With a commanding gesture, she extended her hand. "Your glasses—take them off." Her tone carried the air of an authoritative housekeeper. 

Realizing that going without glasses might make it harder for people to recognize him, Xiang Ri complied without protest. Staying inconspicuous on campus was, after all, part of his strategy for a low-profile life. 

"Let's move," Ren Jun ordered, striding ahead. As she passed him, she lowered her voice to ask, "By the way, how's your hand?" 

"Almost fully recovered," Xiang Ri replied, raising his right hand, which was still wrapped as if in a glove. At the same time, he couldn't help but give her a once-over. 

"Good," she nodded before hastily adding, "Don't misunderstand. I'm only asking for my own sake. After all, your hand is crucial to winning." 

Before he could respond, she quickened her pace, leaving him behind. 

Xiang Ri shook his head in confusion. *What's with her sudden retreat?* He had merely been admiring how well her outfit suited her today—there was no need for such an awkward explanation. 

Indeed, Ren Jun's attire was especially striking that day. A slightly oversized pink T-shirt paired with black, form-fitting capri pants perfectly accentuated her figure, making her tall and slender frame even more alluring. 

Unaware of her captivating appearance, Ren Jun continued to act as though she had been utterly misunderstood. 

When their team bus finally arrived at Beihai University, the support staff had been waiting for quite some time. Upon seeing the school team arrive, they immediately ushered them into the campus basketball arena. 

The arena was already packed to the brim, with Beihai University students comprising about 70% of the audience—it was their home court, after all. However, despite being outnumbered, the students from Xiang Ri's school made their presence felt with an equally loud cheer. 

When the No. 7 jersey-wearing figure—much shorter than the rest of his tall teammates—stepped onto the court, the cheers erupted into an even greater frenzy. 

For many in the audience, this was the legendary No. 7 they had heard about—an athlete capable of breaking a basketball hoop. Those who had missed the thrilling match against Finance University deeply regretted it but were well aware of his reputation. 

"Number 7! Number 7!" The arena reverberated with the chant. 

"You're quite popular," Ren Jun remarked, standing beside Xiang Ri. 

"Just average—they're just showing support," he replied nonchalantly, though his gaze was already fixed on the opposing team's bench. 

Without a doubt, Miss An was still as eye-catching as ever. Flanked by a group of scantily clad, stunning cheerleaders, she sat at the center of attention. Even more strikingly, she had her arms around two beautiful women, each so dazzling they could make any man drool. 

Xiang Ri couldn't help but feel a pang of jealousy. Miss An's left arm held her protégé, Shi Qing, while her right embraced the icy beauty from before. He allowed himself to drift into a brief fantasy about being in their place. 

Meanwhile, on the opposing bench, the university team initially dismissed the deafening cheers from the crowd as they shifted their gaze to the source of the commotion—a relatively short player wearing the No. 7 jersey. 

At first, they assumed he must be some extraordinary figure. But upon realizing he was a mere 1.8 meters tall, a wave of disdain swept across their faces. 

In truth, they had never taken today's match seriously. The opposing school's team, notorious for its lack of formal training and consistent last-place finishes, seemed like an easy target. 

Their plan was simple: defeat the weak team without even deploying their main players. But seeing the enthusiastic crowd, they adjusted their lineup to include starters, intending to crush their opponents' morale within the first ten minutes of the match. 

Their arrogance kept them from researching the opposing team's performance, leaving them unaware of the phenomenon that was No. 7. Consequently, the crowd's cheers only fueled their irritation. 

"Hmph. That short guy thinks he can play basketball? Just watch—I'll destroy him!" declared a towering player wearing No. 27, his height exceeding two meters. 

Unbeknownst to him, his boast was overheard by Miss An, who immediately stood up, her cold gaze fixed on him. "What did you just say? Care to repeat that? I'll make sure you're the one getting destroyed!" 

No. 27 froze, realizing he had likely offended the wrong person. He guessed that Miss An hadn't caught his full statement but had latched onto the most arrogant part. Her reaction made it clear that he had struck a nerve, earning her wrath. 

However, he dared not voice any defense, mindful of the lesson taught by recent events. With a sheepish expression, he blended into the group of players. 

Initially, the other team members had intended to unleash a barrage of verbal jabs at the High University's Number Seven, but the earlier incident had dampened their spirits. They quietly moved to one side to warm up, their resolve now channeling into a determination to humiliate him on the court. 

Little did they realize that this "shorty" wearing the Number Seven jersey was the very same bespectacled man they'd previously seen basking in enviable glory—flanked by their assistant coach on one side and the team manager on the other. 

It was no wonder they failed to recognize him. Xiang Ri's transformation was remarkable. His glasses were gone, and his right hand, freshly rebandaged, bore little resemblance to the heavily wrapped, frail appearance of before. Gone too was his oversized casual wear, replaced by the team jersey that revealed a surprisingly toned physique—not overly muscular, but well-proportioned and aesthetically pleasing. 

The crowd's reaction to Number Seven was just as intense. Among the university students: 

"Hey, who's that Number Seven? Why is everyone shouting his name?" 

"Just look at him—he's nothing but a shorty! Shorter than me, even! And he made it onto the team? High University really is a joke; I hear they don't even have a proper coach." 

"Damn, look at his right hand—he's wearing a glove! Does he think he's some kind of big shot? Everyone knows gloves mess up your feel for the ball. He's so arrogant!" 

"Just wait and see how he embarrasses himself! Bet he'll go down after the slightest bump." 

"With that scrawny frame, he'll probably fly ten meters when hit! And if he gets injured, will he try to pin the blame on us?" 

Meanwhile, High University's side was brimming with unwavering admiration and over-the-top enthusiasm: 

"Number Seven, crush those university bastards!" – The confident type. 

"Number Seven, break their hoop!" – The swaggering type. 

"North Sea's trash, watch as our Number Seven teaches you a lesson! Don't go crying to your mamas when you lose!" – The self-inflated type. 

"Number Seven, I love you!" – The starstruck type. 

Fortunately, the seating sections for the two schools were separated, or such heated remarks might have already sparked a bloody brawl. 

At last, the referee's whistle pierced the air, signaling the start of the game. Both teams stepped onto the court. A mere glance was enough to discern the disparity. 

The university team, coached by professionals, moved with disciplined precision. Their players were tall and imposing, each towering over High University's lineup. 

In stark contrast, High University's team appeared disorganized, their varying heights creating a ragtag impression. The sight of them walking onto the court caused even the loudest of their supporters to instinctively lower their voices. 

Yet, their faith in Number Seven remained steadfast. Though short, he was a figure of formidable skill—one who defied appearances and expectations. Their fervor reignited as they awaited the moment he would deliver the unexpected. 

They cast disdainful glances at the jeering university students, silently wondering if they could maintain such smug expressions when faced with the surprises Number Seven had in store. 

On the court, the two teams assumed their positions. The referee held the ball in one hand and the whistle in the other, raising the former high into the air. With a sharp blow of the whistle, the ball soared upwards, marking the official commencement of the match. 

The opposing center, Number 17, towering at over 2.1 meters, tipped the ball to their point guard, Number 33. Just as 33 was fervently plotting a dazzling offensive play, Xiang Ri darted nimbly to his side, his hand swiftly intercepting the ball. As a former basketball prodigy with unparalleled abilities, such a steal was as effortless to him as a daily routine.

With the ball securely in his grasp, Xiang Ri surged toward the frontcourt with remarkable speed. 

This sudden move ignited a frenzy within the basketball arena. The university students were stunned by the agility of the seemingly unremarkable "shorty," who managed to snatch the ball in the blink of an eye. 

In contrast, High University's students remained composed, though inwardly they scoffed at the naive university spectators. Stealing a ball? That was merely a prelude; far more astounding moments awaited. 

Xiang Ri was aware of the players chasing him, but their speed was no match for his. 

As soon as Xiang Ri had taken possession of the ball, the university players had given chase, with Number 33—still smarting from the turnover—determined to reclaim the ball. Yet, against an extraordinary opponent like Xiang Ri, the gap only widened. 

Not one to squander an opportunity, Xiang Ri aimed to deliver a stunning opening play that would leave his opponents reeling. 

As he dribbled into the free-throw line, he leapt gracefully into the air. His movement was fluid and commanding, an artful blend of elegance and dominance. He soared upward like a taut bowstring, prepared to unleash its full power. 

"What the—! What is he doing?" 

"Could it be...?" 

"No way!" 

"Number Seven! Number Seven! Number Seven!" 

Amid the incredulous murmurs of the North Sea University students and the fervent chants of High University's supporters, Xiang Ri executed a breathtaking move. With a 540-degree spin in midair, he slammed the ball into the hoop with a reverse dunk. 

For a moment, the arena fell silent. Then, an eruption of cheers threatened to shake the very foundation of the building. 

"Is that guy even human?" This thought echoed in the minds of nearly everyone present. 

The university students, who had earlier vowed to humiliate High University's "amateurs," now stared wide-eyed, as though they had seen a ghost. All their bravado evaporated as they watched Number Seven, still hanging from the rim, in awe. 

High University's students, on the other hand, were ecstatic. They looked down their noses at the university crowd with newfound arrogance. Even the skeptics among their ranks, who had once doubted Number Seven's abilities, now gazed at the opposing fans like cranes surveying a flock of chickens. 

The reactions on the court, however, were markedly different. Those playing or seated in the resting area weren't mere spectators; they understood the technical precision and difficulty of such a dunk. 

A move of this caliber was rare even at the highest levels of basketball. To witness it performed by someone under 1.8 meters tall was nothing short of extraordinary. For context, even players who reach 1.8 meters often struggle to dunk. 

Now it was clear why Number Seven's name had been chanted as soon as he entered the arena. His superhuman capabilities had already earned him a reputation. 

Yet, High University's players appeared unfazed. Having seen Xiang Ri shatter a hoop in the past, this was but a minor spectacle. Still, they couldn't help but marvel at his explosive power and unparalleled agility, wishing they could possess even a fraction of his abilities. 

On the North Sea University bench, a middle-aged man—none other than the team's coach—suddenly stood up, eyes wide with astonishment as he stared at Number Seven. 

He was certain: no one in the country could replicate what he had just witnessed. To think such an extraordinary performance was unfolding in a relatively low-stakes college league! 

Jealousy mingled with admiration as the coach began scheming. If they could recruit Number Seven to their team, North Sea University's basketball program would ascend to an entirely new level. 

It wasn't just his dunking prowess that impressed; his quick steal and flawless dribbling hinted at a player with elite skills across the board. 

An Xin, too, was astounded. She already knew the man's physical resilience was extraordinary—after all, he had once walked away unscathed after being hit by a car. 

Still, she hadn't expected the man who epitomized invincible strength to possess such unparalleled basketball talent. Though she had heard whispers of his prowess from a certain meddling younger sister, she hadn't anticipated anything of this magnitude. 

A subtle sense of pride welled up within her. The man she had chosen was anything but ordinary—a testament to her impeccable judgment. 

Yet beneath her pride lay a trace of resentment. That such a high-caliber talent had been hidden from her gnawed at her. She resolved to interrogate him thoroughly once they were home. Who knew what other secrets he might be keeping? 

The two women in her arms, however, showed little reaction. One, her demeanor permanently chilled by past betrayals, remained impassive. The other, long accustomed to this beast of a man's feats, was unsurprised. 

As the university coach observed his players faltering under the psychological pressure of that monumental dunk, he called a timeout. It was clear: his team needed a morale boost if they hoped to recover. 

However, the move backfired spectacularly. Barely ten seconds into the game, the coach's actions had already shaken the players' confidence in him, leaving them questioning his judgment. 

Xiang Ri walked off the court, greeted warmly by his teammates. Manager Ren handed him a towel, her tone a mix of reproach and gentle concern as she said, "Showing off like that when your hand isn't fully healed? Be careful!" 

Xiang Ri smiled faintly, dismissing her words with unwavering confidence in his voice. "We've got this in the bag today!" 

Ren Yun arched an eyebrow, her expression suddenly calm as she remarked in an understated tone, "Next Thursday, my house will be empty." 

Xiang Ri's heart pounded wildly, his eyes fixed intently on her face. He understood perfectly—this was her subtle way of reminding him to claim a certain wager on that day.