The atmosphere grew tense. The locker room had fallen silent once more. Yang Yan sat beside Johnny, the quiet between them more telling than any words.
Johnny looked down, the burden of recent games weighing on his shoulders. Yang Yan could feel it — the frustration, the shame, the invisible pressure pressing down on his friend. And yet, Yang Yan also knew… this wasn't just about Johnny. This situation had everything to do with him too.
"Should I really just sit here?" Yang Yan thought, clenching his fists slightly. The inner conflict was starting to boil.
He had always known that Gallagher, the head coach, wasn't fond of him — maybe even actively trying to keep him out of the spotlight. And yet, Johnny kept taking the fall for decisions he had no control over. Yang Yan had been watching this pattern repeat, game after game.
This wasn't just bad coaching anymore. It was calculated.
Maybe Gallagher wanted to prove a point, using Johnny's failure to justify benching Yang Yan. Maybe it was a mind game aimed at Yang himself — a twisted lesson in humility. But Yang Yan wasn't about to play along anymore.
"If Gallagher wants a showdown," Yang Yan thought, his eyes narrowing with purpose, "then I'm ready."
He wouldn't allow his friend to be thrown under the bus just because of someone else's pride. If anyone was going to take the blame for this mess, it wouldn't be Johnny.
Outside, the buzz of the crowd at Georgetown University was growing louder. The away game was about to begin. As the Ohio State team gathered on the court for warm-ups, Yang Yan moved with them — deliberately, confidently. Even if he wasn't scheduled to play, he had unfinished training to complete, and warming up was part of it.
Gallagher, standing with arms crossed, stole glances at him.
Yang moved with the others, stretching, jogging, focused. His mere presence on the floor brought a strange tension. Some players were whispering among themselves. The assistant coach raised an eyebrow.
Gallagher's scowl softened, but only slightly.
Then, the game began.
Thousands of Miles Away — Dragon Country Livestream Room
"[Welcome back, masters of the court!]" "[It's your favorite commentator, Xiao Liang!]" "[Tonight, we're watching the long-anticipated matchup: Ohio State vs. Georgetown!]"
The comment section exploded with activity.
"[Let's go Yang Yan! Even if they bench you, you're still our MVP!]" "[Why is Johnny starting again? Coach Gallagher must be out of his mind.]""[That guy's defense is so full of holes it makes our village widows look modest.]" "[We want Yang Yan! Why hasn't he played yet?]" "[I even sent a formal report to Ohio State's official site demanding they play him!]" "[Me too! +1!]" "[He's in a foreign land — but he's not alone. We're with him.]"
The room surged with energy and support. For all his isolation abroad, Yang Yan had a nation of fans behind him.
Back at the court, Yang Yan finished his warm-up and headed toward the bench. He picked a seat partially hidden from Gallagher's line of sight, leaned back, closed his eyes, and began to mentally prepare. The court's sounds reached him — the squeak of sneakers, the roar of the crowd, the whistle's sharp blow.
Johnny, meanwhile, was struggling again. Just two minutes in, and Ohio State was already down by four points. Georgetown's small forward was targeting him relentlessly, as if the scouting report had "exploit Johnny" written in bold red ink.
Oden and Conley, watching the disaster unfold on court, turned their eyes toward Gallagher. Their expressions said it all: "Are we really going to let this continue?"
Gallagher sighed. His pride battled with pragmatism. But something in him finally cracked.
"Yang Yan! Get ready!"
Yang's eyes snapped open.
Did he hear that right?
He looked at the coach — Gallagher avoided eye contact, his jaw tight, eyes cold. But the order stood.
Yang couldn't help the grin forming on his lips. He stood up slowly, shed his warm-up coat, and walked to the scorer's table.
Johnny caught sight of him. Something inside him snapped — a burst of energy. Maybe desperation. He sprinted to recover after getting beat by his man, then committed a hard foul — exaggerated, obvious, deliberate. The referee blew the whistle.
Dead ball.
Perfect timing.
Gallagher grimaced. "Damn it… if he played defense like this every game, maybe we wouldn't be in this mess."
Still, he made the substitution gesture.
Johnny jogged off the court as if escaping a war zone. He reached Yang Yan and threw his arms around him, tears welling up.
"It's finally over," Johnny muttered. "Now go show them what you've got, brother."
Yang nodded, his eyes full of calm fire.
He stomped his foot on the sideline, took a deep breath, and stepped onto the court.
Back in the Livestream Room…
"[He's in! Yang Yan is on the court! The Mediterranean finally woke up!]" "[Now this is what I call a game! I've watched his no-look pass clip 40 times already!]" "[Durant got crossed up last game — I want a repeat performance!]" "[Quiz time! How many points will Yang score? Over/under 20?]""[That anchor's gonna go broke today — Yang's about to light it up!]" "[Bless you, Yang Yan! You made us all rich with your last game!]" "[This man is not just a player — he's a miracle in sneakers!]"
On the court, Yang Yan looked at his teammates. Oden and Conley greeted him with quiet nods — respect, recognition, hope.
Yang had arrived.
And this time… he wasn't leaving the court without a fight.