A brilliant basketball journey, a dazzling spectacle.

Chen Hao didn't explain and continued eating with his head down.

Gao Yuan glanced at Lin Feng and raised an eyebrow, as if to say, "What's wrong with him?"

Lin Feng didn't respond.

After the afternoon training session, the three of them stayed behind.

There were a few other people in the arena—Sun Hao was practicing his hook shot under the basket, and Liu Yang was doing strength training. They occasionally glanced over, their eyes lingering on Lin Feng for a moment before looking away.

Lin Feng, Chen Hao, and Gao Yuan each occupied half of the field.

Lin Feng practiced dribbling with his left hand. He did 500 dribbles in place, 10 dribbles while moving, and 50 dribbles each for changing direction. After practicing dribbling, he practiced shooting with his left hand—standing under the basket, shooting with his left hand, starting from close range and gradually moving outwards.

Chen Hao was practicing shooting on the other side. His shooting form was very standard, with a high release point, a flat arc, and fast ball speed. When he shot a three-pointer, the ball barely spun, flying straight towards the basket like a bullet, and with a clean "swish".

Gao Yuan is practicing his pull-up jump shot after dribbling. He has a good sense of rhythm when dribbling, and his braking is very stable when he stops suddenly. His jump height is average, but if he chooses his release point well, it is very difficult for the defender to block it.

The three of them practiced their own techniques, occasionally passing the ball to each other.

We practiced until 6:30, just before the cafeteria closed, before packing up and heading back.

That evening, Lin Feng called Cheng Yuxin again.

The phone rang three times before I answered it today.

"Feed?" Cheng Yuxin's voice was a little out of breath, as if she had just finished running.

"Yuxin, what are you doing?"

"Just finished washing clothes. The washing machine broke, so I washed them by hand."

Lin Feng imagined her squatting in the bathroom washing clothes, an apron tied around her waist, sleeves rolled up to her elbows, her hands covered in foam.

"What's wrong with the washing machine?"

"I don't know. I'll get someone to fix it tomorrow."

There was a moment of silence.

"How was training today?" she asked.

"Not bad. I practiced quick attacks. My accuracy isn't high, around 50%."

"Fifty percent isn't high?"

"The provincial team requires over 70%."

Cheng Yuxin was silent for a moment. "Then practice slowly. You'll improve."

Lin Feng hummed in agreement.

"Sister Yuxin."

"Um?"

Did Liu Jian send you the remittance slip?

"I mailed it. I'm keeping it for you; it's all in a tin box. It's a thick stack."

"That's good."

"Lin Feng, Liu Jian said someone wrote to ask if an English version of your CodeLight could be released. Apparently, a Chinese person studying abroad wants to use this software to write programs, but Chinese characters are displayed as garbled text on English systems."

Lin Feng thought for a moment. "An English version is possible. But we need to develop the Windows 95 version first."

"So when are you going to do it?"

"We'll talk about it after the training camp is over."

"Okay. Don't overwork yourself."

"it is good."

After hanging up the phone, Lin Feng stood in front of it for a while.

The lights in the corridor went out and on again, over and over, as if someone was playing a boring game with him.

He walked back to his dormitory.

Chen Hao sat on the bed reading, while Gao Yuan was hunched over the table writing in his diary—he wrote in his diary every day, his handwriting so large that a single line could fill two or three lines of paper, and a thick notebook was almost full in less than a month. Lin Feng glanced at it and saw that he had written: "I practiced dribbling with my left hand five hundred times today, my fingers are about to break."

Lin Feng lay down on the bed, took out his notebook, and wrote down today's training content.

Quick release, shooting percentage around 50%, the problem lies in the transition between catching and shooting. Left-hand dribbling has improved, but remains inconsistent. More practice tomorrow.

After finishing writing, I closed the notebook and turned off the desk lamp.

The lights were still on on the track and field outside the window. The orange light shone through the curtains, casting a blurry halo on the ceiling.

He closed his eyes.

I was still thinking about what Coach Li said today—"A quick shot doesn't mean sacrificing accuracy; it means increasing speed while maintaining accuracy. You need to find that balance."

Equilibrium point.

Basketball has a balance point, and so does life.

He's looking for it.

He doesn't know when he'll find it, but he's looking.

This is enough.