Chapter Three: Whose Script?

Victory flickered across Luo's face. “But she doesn't finish.” Xinglan drew a circle on the weak side. “Qiao and I fake a handoff and pull both defenders strong side. Zhou drives, draws the center, and passes to Tang in the corner.” Tang stopped breathing. “Me again?” “They've left you two steps of space because you missed your last two. Good.” “What if I miss again?” “Then we all crash the glass. You don't lose alone.” Du studied Xinglan, erased his play, and nodded. “We run it.” Eleven seconds remained. Zhou dribbled at the top. Xinglan burst strong side off Qiao's screen, and two defenders followed by instinct. Zhou attacked the opening. The center helped. The ball flew to the left corner.