I was a top student in America.

When the final buzzer sounded, Li Ao was standing outside the three-point line, his hands still in the position of catching the ball.

The score on the big screen was 62-65, with Wyndham suffering a heartbreaking defeat on the road.

In the last two minutes or so, Li Ao, who returned to the court, stopped blindly asking for the ball.

The opposing team was determined to eliminate his explosive potential, so they immediately double-teamed him and relentlessly attacked him.

He went with the flow, honestly running along the baseline to create space for his teammates.

It wasn't until he was set up twice for Tayshaun to cut to the basket that he managed to pull up and hit a mid-range jumper during a defensive mismatch.

Unfortunately, the hole they dug earlier was too big. They managed to close the gap from 8 points to 3, but time was running out.

In the final possession, Tayshaun was double-teamed while trying to score in the low post. By the time he staggered and threw the ball out of bounds, the game was over.

In the players' tunnel, Wyndham players walked back in twos and threes, muttering grievances.

"Damn, so close!"

"If only we hadn't collapsed in the second quarter..."

"Leo played really well in the last quarter; those three-pointers were so cool."

"What if the coach had substituted him in in the second half? Maybe we would have won in the end."

"Alright, stop with the hindsight, it's making me feel even more frustrated."

Hearing the sighs and groans around him, Li Ao lifted the hem of his jersey to wipe his sweat, but he felt quite calm.

Losing by 3 points to last year's Southern Conference semifinalists on the road, are you feeling frustrated?

Wyndham was just a mid-table team last year, but today they managed to drag the suspense to the last second, so they're practically dead on their feet.

The gap is there; we'll go back, make up for our shortcomings, and come back stronger next time.

Of course, he knew he would get beaten up if he said the truth now, so he wisely swallowed it back.

Upon arriving at the visiting team's locker room, Durant closed the door and glanced around at everyone inside.

Most of the players were still panting; some poured mineral water over their heads, while others covered their faces with towels and remained silent.

"Sit down and listen to me."

The locker room quieted down.

"We played like a piece of crap in the first three quarters, and I'm too lazy to curse anymore. You all know what happened. Our defensive rotations were a beat slow, and on offense we just stood there watching instead of passing the ball, allowing them to score a full twenty points in transition—that's what happens when you can't run plays well."

He paused, his tone still stern, but his pace slowed slightly:

"In the fourth quarter, we came back by seventeen points. It was the same group of players, but they played a completely different game."

His gaze swept over them, lingering on Li Ao for a moment. "What does this mean? It means we're not lacking in ability; we just spent the first three quarters in the locker room! Go back and reflect on your actions. Anyone who doesn't practice tactics properly next week can get out of here."

After saying that, he snapped the tactical board shut and pushed the door open to leave.

When the event ended, the group walked towards the bus.

As he brushed past the students from Simon Academy in the corridor, the black guy playing power forward couldn't help but turn around and stare intently at Li Ao.

Jamal sidled up to Li Ao and chuckled in a low voice:

"Leo, I just glanced at the stats, and you scored 18 points in just 10 minutes! That's fucking insane efficiency!"

Because the team had just lost, he didn't dare to raise his voice too high.

Jay Chou, who was walking ahead, heard this, silently tightened his backpack strap, and didn't say a word.

Tai Shorn followed behind, carrying his bag. As he passed Li Ao, he reached out and patted his shoulder, saying "Well done," before walking straight past him.

On the bus.

Although they lost the game, the team showed great fighting spirit in their final comeback, and the coach didn't get too angry.

The atmosphere in the carriage wasn't too oppressive, but the high spirits they had when they arrived were gone.

Most people were slumped in their seats with their eyes closed, or listening to music with their headphones on.

Li Ao sat down, took a sip of water, and took out an application document from his bag to check it.

Jamal, who was standing next to him, glanced at the densely packed forms. He was already used to it and wisely kept quiet without disturbing them.

Li Ao quickly scanned the two pages, then got up, walked to the back row, and patted the back of substitute defender Trey's chair.

Trey pulled off his headphones and looked up.

Li Ao handed over the materials, pointing to the middle line:

"You filled out this form incorrectly; you missed listing one elective course, so the credits don't match. If you submit your application materials like this, it will definitely be rejected in the initial review. I'll fill out a new one for you later."

Trey paused for a moment, then quickly took the bag and looked at it, before gasping in shock.

"Holy crap, really?!"

Trey stroked his chin and exclaimed, "Thanks, bro, that twenty bucks was fucking worth it."

Li Ao patted him on the shoulder and walked back to his seat.

As soon as he sat down, Ty Shawn from the next row turned his head and casually asked:

"Leo, how's the personal statement I sent you yesterday coming along?"

"The first draft is almost done. I'll bring it to you during training next Monday." Li Ao didn't even look up, continuing to fiddle with the papers in his hand.

Ty Shawn nodded and leaned back in his chair, satisfied.

……

When the bus returned to Wyndham High School, school had already ended, and Li Ao went straight to work at "Iron Box".

When he got home from get off work and pushed open the creaking iron gate of the old apartment building, it was almost seven o'clock in the evening.

The lights were still on inside.

Liu Guifang was sitting on the sofa folding clothes when she saw him come in. She casually asked, "How did the competition go?"

"We lost, by three points."

Liu Guifang's concept of basketball was limited to "fighting for the ball." Upon hearing this, she didn't show any disappointment, but just muttered habitually, "If you lose, you lose. As long as no one is hurt, that's fine. There's rice heating up in the pot; go get some yourself."

Li Ao responded, but instead of rushing to the kitchen, he sat down at the table, took out a roll of change tightly bound with a rubber band from his pocket, and handed it over.

"Grandma, keep these three hundred yuan for now, we'll get through the winter."

Liu Guifang instinctively reached out to take it, but stopped halfway through, and asked alertly:

"You only get twelve yuan a day working part-time at the gym. Even if you work there for half a month, where would you get so much money?"

In Chicago's South Side, it's definitely not a good thing if a sixteen-year-old suddenly pulls out a large sum of cash of dubious origin.

Running errands, keeping watch, selling goods... in the corners of this neighborhood, if you want to make quick money, you mostly have to risk your life.

Li Ao knew what the old lady was worried about, and said with a smile:

"What are you thinking? Don't worry, take it. Besides the wages from the gym, there's also the 'consulting fee' I got for helping those basketball team classmates with their application materials and revising their essays."

Liu Guifang was stunned.

She knew her grandson was smart, but in this godforsaken place, who had ever heard of making money by writing for others?

"You really didn't do anything else?" she asked suspiciously, confirming again.

"If you don't believe me, go ask our basketball team. I have several clients now, and there will be more income later." Li Ao pointed to the money.

Liu Guifang then took the money, counted it carefully, and then cautiously put it into her inner pocket.

"You don't earn money easily, save some for yourself to buy something nice to eat..." she muttered to herself, turning to walk towards the kitchen.

"I'll keep them. I need to get a new pair of sneakers tomorrow; the soles of these are all worn down."

Li Ao replied with a smile and followed to the kitchen to help.

……

The weekend arrived in the blink of an eye.

Before dawn, Li Ao was already dressed and stuffed the math competition study guide Brown had given him into his backpack, ready to head out.

Liu Guifang was cooking oatmeal in the kitchen when she heard the noise and poked her head out: "Isn't it the weekend? Where are you going so early in the morning?"

"I'm going to attend a class at a high school up north," Li Ao replied while changing his shoes.

"You've gone so far, will you be able to come back for lunch?" Liu Guifang asked.

"I'm not coming back. I'll just grab something quick for lunch, so don't worry about me."

Li Ao pushed open the door, wrapped his pilling old coat tightly around himself, and went downstairs.

The red-line train travels northward.

The carriage was deserted. Li Ao huddled in a corner, rummaged through his bag for the lecture notes, and continued to ponder the few sequence problems he hadn't been able to solve that morning.

As the wheels rattled, the scenery outside the window subtly changed.

The dilapidated brick walls and messy graffiti in the southern district were left behind and gradually replaced by glass curtain walls in the city center.

As we approached the station, the streets were lined with neatly trimmed lawns and clean shop windows.

Li Ao would occasionally glance out the window before turning his attention back to studying the formulas on the draft paper.

As I stepped out of the subway station, the cold wind that hit me carried the aroma of butter from the corner bakery.

This is Lincoln Park, a well-known affluent neighborhood in Chicago.

On the wide street, the occasional passerby is wearing a smart coat, holding a hot coffee, and walking leisurely.

Although they live in the same city, this area and the southern district are two completely different worlds.

Not far along, the gates of Whitney Young High School appeared on the street corner.

The off-white exterior of the teaching building was spotless, covered with colorful banners honoring academic competitions.

The students on the photo wall are all dressed in suits and shirts, smiling and showing their neat white teeth, with either a laboratory or an awards podium in the background.

……