Volume One: I Came, I Saw, I Conquered!

Volume One: I Came, I Saw, I Conquered! Chapter Five: I Happen to Know a Genius. The living room was cluttered with junk, and the dining table was covered with all kinds of takeout boxes, especially McDonald's and KFC boxes. Zhang Yu was just like his predecessor in that regard: he loved fried chicken and burgers. He sat there in a daze for a moment, then suddenly began frantically searching for his phone. His fingers trembled as he found a number in his contacts. He stared at it for a full minute before gritting his teeth and pressing the call button. He sat there in a daze for a moment, then suddenly began frantically searching for his phone. His fingers trembled as he found a number in his contacts. He stared at it for a full minute before gritting his teeth and pressing the call button. "This player is different. He's a true genius, and we need to show him how serious we are." Li Yinghua was in a good mood, smiling cheerfully and not getting annoyed. In the past, Zhang Haijun would have been nagged all evening. "Coach Rickert had his eye on Mike Conley ever since Conley was a freshman. He's gone to watch North Lawrence High School play regularly these past few years and has stayed in close contact with him. Conley hadn't decided where to go until now because he was wondering whether to come to Butler." Matthew had handled the team's recruiting for years. He thought it over, then his expression turned disappointed: Zhang Yu hesitated, then finally corrected himself: The small kitchen was piled high with dirty dishes, their surfaces greasy. Stained clothes and pants lay scattered around the bedroom, filling it with a musty smell. Zhang Yu slumped onto the sofa, turned the air conditioning down as low as it would go, and kept wiping the sweat from his forehead with a towel. "I really just didn't sleep well yesterday..." Zhang Yu tried to explain, but when he saw that nobody believed him, he gave up. "Why did he choose Ohio State University?" Stevens pressed. But even though the coaching staff knew that recruiting a prodigy like Mike Conley was always difficult, his reason for turning down the Bulldogs still made them entertain an unreasonable what-if: if Rickert were still the Bulldogs' head coach, would Mike Conley have chosen them? "I fell asleep... All right, I admit it. I only slept three hours yesterday." Zhang Yu let out a huge yawn. "Ha... I'd better head back, then..." Li Yinghua was a little puzzled by her son's sudden way of speaking. Still, just getting a call from him made the unassuming middle-aged woman incredibly happy, and she immediately began asking about his life. But that wasn't a problem for Zhang Yu. Nobody knew better than he did who would become a superstar in the future. This was the price of becoming an NCAA head coach at twenty-three. The next day, Zhang Yu arrived at Hinkle Fieldhouse early. The Bulldogs' players also arrived one after another to practice. As he spoke, his gaze lost focus, as if he'd fallen into a memory—or perhaps was looking forward to something. His voice held a barely perceptible note of excitement. "As far as I know, Charlotte Christian High School doesn't have any star players graduating this year." Zhang Yu stared blankly out the window. A few wispy clouds drifted over, covering half the moon. The moonlight was like gauze, like mist. A thought that had been drifting through his mind ever since he'd crossed over grew crystal clear. "I happen to know a genius. He probably hasn't made his choice yet," Zhang Yu said. The next day, Zhang Yu arrived at Hinkle Fieldhouse early. The Bulldogs' players also arrived one after another to practice. This was the price of becoming an NCAA head coach at twenty-three. When you put all your energy into one thing, it's hard to make time for anything else. Zhang Yu had no answer. Stevens's words stung a little, but he wasn't wrong. The next day, Zhang Yu arrived at Hinkle Fieldhouse early. The Bulldogs' players also arrived one after another to practice. Before he'd crossed over, this would have been an almost impossible task for Zhang Yu. But now... "Mom, I miss you." The next day, Zhang Yu arrived at Hinkle Fieldhouse early. The Bulldogs' players also arrived one after another to practice. Zhang Yu looked around the whole apartment, his thoughts stirring. During the day, he had to adjust to his new identity and deal with all kinds of people. His nerves were constantly on edge, leaving him no time to think about his past life. Now that he could finally relax, his parents were the first thing that came to mind. He sat there in a daze for a moment, then suddenly began frantically searching for his phone. His fingers trembled as he found a number in his contacts. He stared at it for a full minute before gritting his teeth and pressing the call button. His predecessor had spent the past few days obsessively watching game footage because he was fretting over this. He'd watched footage of almost every high school in Indiana, hoping to pick out promising high school players to recruit. "What's wrong with you? Didn't you just call a few days ago? What are you planning to eat for lunch? Oh, I forgot—it's evening in America now. What did you eat?" "Ronan, did you stay up all night watching game footage again?" Half an hour later, Zhang Yu reluctantly put down his phone. He'd once read a saying he thought was spot-on: when you turn your life into a mess, you succeed at work. "Of course I know that, but those geniuses might not even know the Bulldogs' name," Matthew Graves sighed. Listening to the familiar Shandong dialect, Zhang Yu felt a weight lift from his heart. His voice was soft, but firm, as he said: Though Zhang Yu wasn't a neat freak, he couldn't stand living in such a mess. After making a plan, he quickly began his "Apartment Cleaning Project." He didn't finish his sentence, but everyone understood what he meant. "What happened? Are you having trouble recruiting players?" Zhang Yu felt most of his sleepiness vanish and was the first to ask. Matthew Graves walked over, looking serious: "Ha... I'd better head back, then..." Zhang Yu hesitated, then finally corrected himself: Zhang Yu's apartment was cluttered with junk, and the dining table was covered with all kinds of takeout boxes, especially McDonald's and KFC boxes. Zhang Yu was just like his predecessor in that regard: he loved fried chicken and burgers. He sat there in a daze for a moment, then suddenly began frantically searching for his phone. His fingers trembled as he found a number in his contacts. He stared at it for a full minute before gritting his teeth and pressing the call button. "We don't have to go in person. We can just have him come to Indiana for a tryout." "I happen to know a genius. He probably hasn't made his choice yet," Zhang Yu said. "The North Lawrence High School star Mike Conley turned us down and chose Ohio State University," Matthew said helplessly. Mike Conley didn't trust a twenty-three-year-old Chinese head coach. Zhang Yu's presence had snuffed out the last possibility of Conley joining the Bulldogs. It was already ten at night. A crescent moon hung high in the distant sky. Its light wasn't very bright, but against the glimmer of the stars, it seemed especially gentle. The apartment's soundproof windows shut out the noise of students passing outside; only faint laughter and conversation reached Zhang Yu's ears. But his predecessor had been as gifted at basketball strategy as he was terrible at judging players' potential. In that respect, he was on the same level as the great basketball god Michael Jordan—and so far, he had come up empty-handed. When you put all your energy into one thing, it's hard to make time for anything else. He rolled over and looked toward the window. The curtains blocked it completely, but the moonlight and starlight seemed to pierce right through them, casting a dim but enduring glow across the floor. Zhang Yu had been busy for three full hours before he got the apartment reasonably clean. He'd leave the remaining details for later. "The North Lawrence High School star Mike Conley turned us down and chose Ohio State University," Matthew said helplessly. Matthew Graves walked over, looking serious: "Of course I know that, but those geniuses might not even know the Bulldogs' name," Matthew Graves sighed. The trash he'd cleared out filled three large plastic bags, and he'd struggled to carry them downstairs to throw them away. "No. I'm just a little excited, so I can't sleep," Zhang Yu said listlessly. He sat there in a daze for a moment, then suddenly began frantically searching for his phone. His fingers trembled as he found a number in his contacts. He stared at it for a full minute before gritting his teeth and pressing the call button. "It's already late in the recruiting season. Lots of talented high school players in Indiana picked their schools ages ago, so it'll be hard to recruit good players." Matthew looked troubled. Just then, Matthew Graves's phone rang. He raised a hand to let them know, stepped aside, and picked it up. "Matthew, start recruiting someone new." Stevens spoke up. "A genius like Mike Conley won't choose the Bulldogs." Matthew Graves walked over, looking serious: "Hello, Xiaoyu? Isn't it Saturday today? Why are you calling?" A clearly middle-aged woman's voice came through, brimming with undisguised delight. Zhang Yu slumped onto the sofa, turned the air conditioning down as low as it would go, and kept wiping the sweat from his forehead with a towel. He couldn't stop himself from yawning again: "Matthew, start recruiting someone new." Stevens spoke up. "A genius like Mike Conley won't choose the Bulldogs." "Ronan, I understand how you feel about becoming a head coach, but you have to get enough rest. There's still half a year until next season. Are you going to work until late every night for the next six months?" "Charlotte Christian High School," Zhang Yu replied. Li Yinghua was in a good mood, smiling cheerfully and not getting annoyed. In the past, Zhang Haijun would have been nagged all evening. Before he'd crossed over, this would have been an almost impossible task for Zhang Yu. But now... It was already ten at night. A crescent moon hung high in the distant sky. Its light wasn't very bright, but against the glimmer of the stars, it seemed especially gentle. The apartment's soundproof windows shut out the noise of students passing outside; only faint laughter and conversation reached Zhang Yu's ears. It was already ten at night. A crescent moon hung high in the distant sky. Its light wasn't very bright, but against the glimmer of the stars, it seemed especially gentle. The apartment's soundproof windows shut out the noise of students passing outside; only faint laughter and conversation reached Zhang Yu's ears. "As far as I know, Charlotte Christian High School doesn't have any star players graduating this year." He couldn't stop himself from yawning again: Zhang Yu slowly shook his head: "You must be at the darkest point in your life right now..." Zhang Yu suddenly opened his eyes. Zhang Yu stared blankly out the window. A few wispy clouds drifted over, covering half the moon. The moonlight was like gauze, like mist. A thought that had been drifting through his mind ever since he'd crossed over grew crystal clear. And even though the coaching staff knew that recruiting a prodigy like Mike Conley was always difficult, his reason for turning down the Bulldogs still made them entertain an unreasonable what-if: if Rickert were still the Bulldogs' head coach, would Mike Conley have chosen them? "Ronan, no matter how highly you think of him, you can't go see him yourself. You're the head coach. You represent the Bulldogs," Matthew explained. "Matthew, start recruiting someone new." Stevens spoke up. "A genius like Mike Conley won't choose the Bulldogs." I've crossed over here. Will Mom and Dad be heartbroken? The next day, Zhang Yu arrived at Hinkle Fieldhouse early. The Bulldogs' players also arrived one after another to practice. "Old Zhang, don't you think Xiaoyu's been a little strange today? He didn't even complain about me nagging him." The next day, Zhang Yu arrived at Hinkle Fieldhouse early. The Bulldogs' players also arrived one after another to practice. During the day, he had to adjust to his new identity and deal with all kinds of people. His nerves were constantly on edge, leaving him no time to think about his past life. Now that he could finally relax, his parents were the first thing that came to mind. "You sure you didn't sleep badly, rather than not sleep at all?" "If he becomes famous across the country, there'll be nothing left for us," Zhang Yu said resolutely, as if he'd already thought it over. "Have someone book two plane tickets. We're going to Charlotte tomorrow." Zhang Yu looked around the whole apartment, his thoughts stirring. He sat there in a daze for a moment, then suddenly began frantically searching for his phone. His fingers trembled as he found a number in his contacts. He stared at it for a full minute before gritting his teeth and pressing the call button. Half an hour later, Zhang Yu reluctantly put down his phone... The next day, Zhang Yu arrived at Hinkle Fieldhouse early. The Bulldogs' players also arrived one after another to practice. "Coach Rickert got hurt, and Mike Conley was still undecided," Matthew said, glancing at Zhang Yu hesitantly. "But after he learned that Ronan was the Bulldogs' new head coach... he made up his mind." Mike Conley didn't trust a twenty-three-year-old Chinese head coach. Zhang Yu's presence had snuffed out the last possibility of Conley joining the Bulldogs. "Beep..." But Matthew still insisted: "Damn it, finally finished..." "Hello, Xiaoyu? Isn't it Saturday today? Why are you calling?" A clearly middle-aged woman's voice came through, brimming with undisguised delight. He'd thought about a lot of things the previous night. In the second half of the night, he'd simply gotten up and written down many details from his past life, so he wouldn't forget them later. "Mike Conley? He made the McDonald's All-American team. He was never very likely to come to Butler, was he?" Stevens asked, confused. Listening to the familiar Shandong dialect, Zhang Yu felt a weight lift from his heart. His voice was soft, but firm, as he said: He didn't finish his sentence, but everyone understood what he meant. "What's wrong with you? Didn't you just call a few days ago? What are you planning to eat for lunch? Oh, I forgot—it's evening in America now. What did you eat?" "You complain when I nag you, but you complain when I don't. You're impossible to please!" Zhang Haijun said. Zhang Yu hesitated, then finally corrected himself: Zhang Yu hung up, went to the bathroom to wash up, then returned to the bedroom and lay down with his eyes closed. But he couldn't sleep at all. Mike Shulsbury's words kept echoing in his mind: "At least make it to the Sweet Sixteen." "..." Zhang Yu hesitated, then finally corrected himself: And even though the coaching staff knew that recruiting a prodigy like Mike Conley was always difficult, his reason for turning down the Bulldogs still made them entertain an unreasonable what-if: if Rickert were still the Bulldogs' head coach, would Mike Conley have chosen them? "Mom, I miss you." Li Yinghua was in a good mood, smiling cheerfully and not getting annoyed. In the past, Zhang Haijun would have been nagged all evening. "Ding..." Matthew's expression brightened: His predecessor's memories were right. Zhang Yu's parents in this world were the same people as his parents in his past life, only more than ten years younger. "What school does he go to?" His predecessor's memories were right. Zhang Yu's parents in this world were the same people as his parents in his past life, only more than ten years younger. Listening to the familiar Shandong dialect, Zhang Yu felt a weight lift from his heart. His voice was soft, but firm, as he said: "What school does he go to?" "Charlotte Christian High School," Zhang Yu replied. His parents hadn't changed, and neither had his home. "That's right. Besides, you'd only be watching from the sidelines." Stevens added, "Ronan, why don't you go rest for a while? We can handle practice," Matthew Graves suggested. Li Yinghua was in a good mood, smiling cheerfully and not getting annoyed. In the past, Zhang Haijun would have been nagged all evening. "As far as I know, Charlotte Christian High School doesn't have any star players graduating this year." "What's wrong with you? Didn't you just call a few days ago? What are you planning to eat for lunch? Oh, I forgot—it's evening in America now. What did you eat?" Zhang Yu had no answer. Stevens's words stung a little, but he wasn't wrong. He looked hollow-eyed, with bloodshot eyes and a pale face. His hair was a tangled mess, like a bird's nest, with a few unruly strands sticking straight up. Li Yinghua was a little puzzled by her son's sudden way of speaking. Still, just getting a call from him made the unassuming middle-aged woman incredibly happy, and she immediately began asking about his life. Half an hour later, Zhang Yu reluctantly put down his phone. In the past, the nagging had annoyed him, but now it sounded so soothing. He even felt like he might cry as he gave her detailed answers. "Why did he choose Ohio State University?" Stevens pressed. "I ate steak..." "I happen to know a genius. He probably hasn't made his choice yet," Zhang Yu said. But his predecessor had been as gifted at basketball strategy as he was terrible at judging players' potential. In that respect, he was on the same level as the great basketball god Michael Jordan—and so far, he had come up empty-handed. "The North Lawrence High School star Mike Conley turned us down and chose Ohio State University," Matthew said helplessly. Half an hour later, Zhang Yu reluctantly put down his phone. In the past, the nagging had annoyed him, but now it sounded so soothing. He even felt like he might cry as he gave her detailed answers. Zhang Yu looked around the whole apartment, his thoughts stirring. "Hello, Xiaoyu? Isn't it Saturday today? Why are you calling?" A clearly middle-aged woman's voice came through, brimming with undisguised delight. Zhang Yu had been busy for three full hours before he got the apartment reasonably clean. He'd leave the remaining details for later. In the past, the nagging had annoyed him, but now it sounded so soothing. He even felt like he might cry as he gave her detailed answers. The trash he'd cleared out filled three large plastic bags, and he'd struggled to carry them downstairs to throw them away. "You sure you didn't sleep badly, rather than not sleep at all?" His eyes were hollow, bloodshot, and rimmed by dark circles. His face was pale, and his hair was a tangled mess, like a bird's nest, with a few unruly strands sticking straight up. Zhang Yu looked around the whole apartment, his thoughts stirring. He had been busy for three full hours before he got the apartment reasonably clean. He'd leave the remaining details for later. "You sure you didn't sleep badly, rather than not sleep at all?" His eyes were hollow, bloodshot, and rimmed by dark circles. His face was pale, and his hair was a tangled mess, like a bird's nest, with a few unruly strands sticking straight up. "You sure you didn't sleep badly, rather than not sleep at all?" His lips held a faint smile. He stood there calmly, left hand on his chest and right hand supporting his chin as he rubbed it. His distant gaze rested on the faraway stands at Hinkle Fieldhouse, as though Mike Conley hadn't turned down the Bulldogs at all—as though he'd been the one to reject Conley. "Ding..." "I fell asleep... All right, I admit it. I only slept three hours yesterday." Zhang Yu let out a huge yawn. "You sure you didn't sleep badly, rather than not sleep at all?" "Old Zhang, don't you think Xiaoyu's been a little strange today? He didn't even complain about me nagging him." "Why did he choose Ohio State University?" Stevens pressed. "I ate steak..." "I happen to know a genius. He probably hasn't made his choice yet," Zhang Yu said. But his predecessor had been as gifted at basketball strategy as he was terrible at judging players' potential. In that respect, he was on the same level as the great basketball god Michael Jordan—and so far, he had come up empty-handed. Half an hour later, Zhang Yu reluctantly put down his phone. In the past, the nagging had annoyed him, but now it sounded so soothing. He even felt like he might cry as he gave her detailed answers. Zhang Yu looked around the whole apartment, his thoughts stirring. He sat there in a daze for a moment, then suddenly began frantically searching for his phone. His fingers trembled as he found a number in his contacts. He stared at it for a full minute before gritting his teeth and pressing the call button. Half an hour later, Zhang Yu reluctantly put down his phone. The next day, Zhang Yu arrived at Hinkle Fieldhouse early. The Bulldogs' players also arrived one after another to practice. "Coach Rickert got hurt, and Mike Conley was still undecided," Matthew said, glancing at Zhang Yu hesitantly. "But after he learned that Ronan was the Bulldogs' new head coach... he made up his mind." Mike Conley didn't trust a twenty-three-year-old Chinese head coach. Zhang Yu's presence had snuffed out the last possibility of Conley joining the Bulldogs. "Beep..." But Matthew still insisted: "Damn it, finally finished..." "Hello, Xiaoyu? Isn't it Saturday today? Why are you calling?" A clearly middle-aged woman's voice came through, brimming with undisguised delight. He'd thought about a lot of things the previous night. In the second half of the night, he'd simply gotten up and written down many details from his past life, so he wouldn't forget them later. "Mike Conley? He made the McDonald's All-American team. He was never very likely to come to Butler, was he?" Stevens asked, confused. Listening to the familiar Shandong dialect, Zhang Yu felt a weight lift from his heart. His voice was soft, but firm, as he said: He didn't finish his sentence, but everyone understood what he meant. "You complain when I nag you, but you complain when I don't. You're impossible to please!" Zhang Haijun said. Zhang Yu hesitated, then finally corrected himself: Zhang Yu hung up, went to the bathroom to wash up, then returned to the bedroom and lay down with his eyes closed. But he couldn't sleep at all. Mike Shulsbury's words kept echoing in his mind: "At least make it to the Sweet Sixteen." "..." Zhang Yu hesitated, then finally corrected himself: And even though the coaching staff knew that recruiting a prodigy like Mike Conley was always difficult, his reason for turning down the Bulldogs still made them entertain an unreasonable what-if: if Rickert were still the Bulldogs' head coach, would Mike Conley have chosen them? "Mom, I miss you." Li Yinghua was in a good mood, smiling cheerfully and not getting annoyed. In the past, Zhang Haijun would have been nagged all evening. "Ding..." Matthew's expression brightened: His predecessor's memories were right. Zhang Yu's parents in this world were the same people as his parents in his past life, only more than ten years younger. "What school does he go to?" His predecessor's memories were right. Zhang Yu's parents in this world were the same people as his parents in his past life, only more than ten years younger. Listening to the familiar Shandong dialect, Zhang Yu felt a weight lift from his heart. His voice was soft, but firm, as he said: "What school does he go to?" "Charlotte Christian High School," Zhang Yu replied. His parents hadn't changed, and neither had his home. "That's right. Besides, you'd only be watching from the sidelines," Stevens added. "Ronan, why don't you go rest for a while? We can handle practice," Matthew Graves suggested. Li Yinghua was in a good mood, smiling cheerfully and not getting annoyed. In the past, Zhang Haijun would have been nagged all evening. "As far as I know, Charlotte Christian High School doesn't have any star players graduating this year." "What's wrong with you? Didn't you just call a few days ago? What are you planning to eat for lunch? Oh, I forgot—it's evening in America now. What did you eat?" Zhang Yu had no answer. Stevens's words stung a little, but he wasn't wrong. He looked hollow-eyed, with bloodshot eyes and a pale face. His hair was a tangled mess, like a bird's nest, with a few unruly strands sticking straight up. Li Yinghua was a little puzzled by her son's sudden way of speaking. Still, just getting a call from him made the unassuming middle-aged woman incredibly happy, and she immediately began asking about his life. Half an hour later, Zhang Yu reluctantly put down his phone. In the past, the nagging had annoyed him, but now it sounded so soothing. He even felt like he might cry as he gave her detailed answers. "Why did he choose Ohio State University?" Stevens pressed. "I ate steak..." "I happen to know a genius. He probably hasn't made his choice yet," Zhang Yu said. But his predecessor had been as gifted at basketball strategy as he was terrible at judging players' potential. In that respect, he was on the same level as the great basketball god Michael Jordan—and so far, he had come up empty-handed. Half an hour later, Zhang Yu reluctantly put down his phone. In the past, the nagging had annoyed him, but now it sounded so soothing. He even felt like he might cry as he gave her detailed answers. Zhang Yu looked around the whole apartment, his thoughts stirring. "Hello, Xiaoyu? Isn't it Saturday today? Why are you calling?" A clearly middle-aged woman's voice came through, brimming with undisguised delight. Zhang Yu had been busy for three full hours before he got the apartment reasonably clean. He'd leave the remaining details for later. In the past, the nagging had annoyed him, but now it sounded so soothing. He even felt like he might cry as he gave her detailed answers. The trash he'd cleared out filled three large plastic bags, and he'd struggled to carry them downstairs to throw them away. "You sure you didn't sleep badly, rather than not sleep at all?" His eyes were hollow, bloodshot, and rimmed by dark circles. His face was pale, and his hair was a tangled mess, like a bird's nest, with a few unruly strands sticking straight up. Li Yinghua was a little puzzled by her son's sudden way of speaking. Still, just getting a call from him made the unassuming middle-aged woman incredibly happy, and she immediately began asking about his life. Half an hour later, Zhang Yu reluctantly put down his phone. In the past, the nagging had annoyed him, but now it sounded so soothing. He even felt like he might cry as he gave her detailed answers. Zhang Yu had been busy for three full hours before he got the apartment reasonably clean. He'd leave the remaining details for later. "You sure you didn't sleep badly, rather than not sleep at all?" His eyes were hollow, bloodshot, and rimmed by dark circles. His face was pale, and his hair was a tangled mess, like a bird's nest, with a few unruly strands sticking straight up. "You sure you didn't sleep badly, rather than not sleep at all?" His lips held a faint smile. He stood there calmly, left hand on his chest and right hand supporting his chin as he rubbed it. His distant gaze rested on the faraway stands at Hinkle Fieldhouse, as though Mike Conley hadn't turned down the Bulldogs at all—as though he'd been the one to reject Conley. "Ding..." "I fell asleep... All right, I admit it. I only slept three hours yesterday." Zhang Yu let out a huge yawn. But Matthew still insisted: "Matthew, start recruiting someone new." Stevens spoke up. "A genius like Mike Conley won't choose the Bulldogs." But this wasn't a problem for Zhang Yu. Nobody knew better than he did who would become a superstar in the future. Matthew Graves walked over, looking serious: "You sure you didn't sleep badly, rather than not sleep at all?" Zhang Yu looked around the whole apartment, his thoughts stirring. He looked hollow-eyed, with bloodshot eyes and a pale face. His hair was a tangled mess, like a bird's nest, with a few unruly strands sticking straight up. "You sure you didn't sleep badly, rather than not sleep at all?" He couldn't help yawning again: "Old Zhang, don't you think Xiaoyu's been a little strange today? He didn't even complain about me nagging him." "As far as I know, Charlotte Christian High School doesn't have any star players graduating this year." "You sure you didn't sleep badly, rather than not sleep at all?" "Ronan, why don't you go rest for a while? We can handle practice," Matthew Graves suggested. The next day, Zhang Yu arrived at Hinkle Fieldhouse early. The Bulldogs' players also arrived one after another to practice. Matthew was a little taken aback and said: "Of course I know that, but those geniuses might not even know the Bulldogs' name," Matthew Graves sighed. But Zhang Yu couldn't stand the living conditions, even though he wasn't a neat freak. After making a plan, he quickly began his "Apartment Cleaning Project." Zhang Yu stared blankly out the window. A few wispy clouds drifted over, covering half the moon. The moonlight was like gauze, like mist. A thought that had been drifting through his mind ever since he'd crossed over grew crystal clear. "Ronan, why don't you go rest for a while? We can handle practice," Matthew Graves suggested. The next day, Zhang Yu arrived at Hinkle Fieldhouse early. The Bulldogs' players also arrived one after another to practice. Matthew was a little taken aback and said: "Of course I know that, but those geniuses might not even know the Bulldogs' name," Matthew Graves sighed. But Zhang Yu couldn't stand the living conditions, even though he wasn't a neat freak. After making a plan, he quickly began his "Apartment Cleaning Project." Zhang Yu stared blankly out the window. A few wispy clouds drifted over, covering half the moon. The moonlight was like gauze, like mist. A thought that had been drifting through his mind ever since he'd crossed over grew crystal clear. Matthew had handled the team's recruiting for years. He thought it over, then his expression turned disappointed: "Ronan, why don't you go rest for a while? We can handle practice," Matthew Graves suggested. "Mike Conley? He made the McDonald's All-American team. He was never very likely to come to Butler, was he?" Stevens asked, confused. His predecessor's memories were right. Zhang Yu's parents in this world were the same people as his parents in his past life, only more than ten years younger. Listening to the familiar Shandong dialect, Zhang Yu felt a weight lift from his heart. His voice was soft, but firm, as he said: Zhang Yu had been busy for three full hours before he got the apartment reasonably clean. He'd leave the remaining details for later. Zhang Yu was a little taken aback and said: He rolled over and looked toward the window. The curtains blocked it completely, but the moonlight and starlight seemed to pierce right through them, casting a dim but enduring glow across the floor. Matthew had handled the team's recruiting for years. He thought it over, then his expression turned disappointed: "Ronan, why don't you go rest for a while? We can handle practice," Matthew Graves suggested. "You sure you didn't sleep badly, rather than not sleep at all?" "No. I'm just a little excited, so I can't sleep," Zhang Yu said listlessly. Matthew's expression brightened: He'd thought about a lot of things the previous night. In the second half of the night, he'd simply gotten up and written down many details from his past life, so he wouldn't forget them later. Matthew Graves walked over, looking serious: "Ding..." Li Yinghua was in a good mood, smiling cheerfully and not getting annoyed. In the past, Zhang Haijun would have been nagged all evening. Listening to the familiar Shandong dialect, Zhang Yu felt a weight lift from his heart. His voice was soft, but firm, as he said: The next day, Zhang Yu arrived at Hinkle Fieldhouse early. The Bulldogs' players also arrived one after another to practice. Mike Conley didn't trust a twenty-three-year-old Chinese head coach. Zhang Yu's presence had snuffed out the last possibility of Conley joining the Bulldogs. "I fell asleep... All right, I admit it. I only slept three hours yesterday." Zhang Yu let out a huge yawn. "You sure you didn't sleep badly, rather than not sleep at all?" "Old Zhang, don't you think Xiaoyu's been a little strange today? He didn't even complain about me nagging him." "You complain when I nag you, but you complain when I don't. You're impossible to please!" Zhang Haijun said. Zhang Yu had no answer. Stevens's words stung a little, but he wasn't wrong. "You sure you didn't sleep badly, rather than not sleep at all?" "I fell asleep... All right, I admit it. I only slept three hours yesterday." Zhang Yu let out a huge yawn. He stood there calmly, left hand on his chest and right hand supporting his chin as he rubbed it. His distant gaze rested on the faraway stands at Hinkle Fieldhouse, as though Mike Conley hadn't turned down the Bulldogs at all—as though he'd been the one to reject Conley. "What school does he go to?" "That's right. Besides, you'd only be watching from the sidelines," Stevens added. "Ronan, why don't you go rest for a while? We can handle practice," Matthew Graves suggested. Li Yinghua was in a good mood, smiling cheerfully and not getting annoyed. In the past, Zhang Haijun would have been nagged all evening. "As far as I know, Charlotte Christian High School doesn't have any star players graduating this year." "What's wrong with you? Didn't you just call a few days ago? What are you planning to eat for lunch? Oh, I forgot—it's evening in America now. What did you eat?" Zhang Yu had no answer. Stevens's words stung a little, but he wasn't wrong. "Ronan, why don't you go rest for a while? We can handle practice," Matthew Graves suggested. "Mom, I miss you." "You complain when I nag you, but you complain when I don't. You're impossible to please!" Zhang Haijun said. "Ding..." "This player is different. He's a true genius, and we need to show him how serious we are." Matthew's expression brightened: His predecessor's memories were right. Zhang Yu's parents in this world were the same people as his parents in his past life, only more than ten years younger. His parents hadn't changed, and neither had his home. Listening to the familiar Shandong dialect, Zhang Yu felt a weight lift from his heart. His voice was soft, but firm, as he said: "What school does he go to?" "Charlotte Christian High School," Zhang Yu replied. "That's right. Besides, you'd only be watching from the sidelines," Stevens added. "Ronan, why don't you go rest for a while? We can handle practice," Matthew Graves suggested. Li Yinghua was in a good mood, smiling cheerfully and not getting annoyed. In the past, Zhang Haijun would have been nagged all evening. "As far as I know, Charlotte Christian High School doesn't have any star players graduating this year." "What's wrong with you? Didn't you just call a few days ago? What are you planning to eat for lunch? Oh, I forgot—it's evening in America now. What did you eat?" Zhang Yu had no answer. Stevens's words stung a little, but he wasn't wrong. "You sure you didn't sleep badly, rather than not sleep at all?" "If he becomes famous across the country, there'll be nothing left for us," Zhang Yu said resolutely, as if he'd already thought it over. "Have someone book two plane tickets. We're going to Charlotte tomorrow." Zhang Yu looked around the whole apartment, his thoughts stirring. He sat there in a daze for a moment, then suddenly began frantically searching for his phone. His fingers trembled as he found a number in his contacts. He stared at it for a full minute before gritting his teeth and pressing the call button. Half an hour later, Zhang Yu reluctantly put down his phone... The next day, Zhang Yu arrived at Hinkle Fieldhouse early. The Bulldogs' players also arrived one after another to practice. "Coach Rickert got hurt, and Mike Conley was still undecided," Matthew said, glancing at Zhang Yu hesitantly. "But after he learned that Ronan was the Bulldogs' new head coach... he made up his mind." Mike Conley didn't trust a twenty-three-year-old Chinese head coach. Zhang Yu's presence had snuffed out the last possibility of Conley joining the Bulldogs. "Beep..." But Matthew still insisted: "Damn it, finally finished..." "Hello, Xiaoyu? Isn't it Saturday today? Why are you calling?" A clearly middle-aged woman's voice came through, brimming with undisguised delight. He'd thought about a lot of things the previous night. In the second half of the night, he'd simply gotten up and written down many details from his past life, so he wouldn't forget them later. "Mike Conley? He made the McDonald's All-American team. He was never very likely to come to Butler, was he?" Stevens asked, confused. Listening to the familiar Shandong dialect, Zhang Yu felt a weight lift from his heart. His voice was soft, but firm, as he said: He didn't finish his sentence, but everyone understood what he meant. "You complain when I nag you, but you complain when I don't. You're impossible to please!" Zhang Haijun said. "Ha... I'd better head back, then..." Zhang Yu hesitated, then finally corrected himself: Zhang Yu hung up, went to the bathroom to wash up, then returned to the bedroom and lay down with his eyes closed. But he couldn't sleep at all. Mike Shulsbury's words kept echoing in his mind: "At least make it to the Sweet Sixteen." "..." Zhang Yu hesitated, then finally corrected himself: And even though the coaching staff knew that recruiting a prodigy like Mike Conley was always difficult, his reason for turning down the Bulldogs still made them entertain an unreasonable what-if: if Rickert were still the Bulldogs' head coach, would Mike Conley have chosen them? "Mom, I miss you." Li Yinghua was in a good mood, smiling cheerfully and not getting annoyed. In the past, Zhang Haijun would have been nagged all evening. "Ding..." Matthew's expression brightened: His predecessor's memories were right. Zhang Yu's parents in this world were the same people as his parents in his past life, only more than ten years younger. "What school does he go to?" His predecessor's memories were right. Zhang Yu's parents in this world were the same people as his parents in his past life, only more than ten years younger. Listening to the familiar Shandong dialect, Zhang Yu felt a weight lift from his heart. His voice was soft, but firm, as he said: "What school does he go to?" "Charlotte Christian High School," Zhang Yu replied. His parents hadn't changed, and neither had his home. "That's right. Besides, you'd only be watching from the sidelines," Stevens added. "Ronan, why don't you go rest for a while? We can handle practice," Matthew Graves suggested. Li Yinghua was in a good mood, smiling cheerfully and not getting annoyed. In the past, Zhang Haijun would have been nagged all evening. "As far as I know, Charlotte Christian High School doesn't have any star players graduating this year." "What's wrong with you? Didn't you just call a few days ago? What are you planning to eat for lunch? Oh, I forgot—it's evening in America now. What did you eat?" Zhang Yu had no answer. Stevens's words stung a little, but he wasn't wrong. He'd looked around the whole apartment, his thoughts stirring. He sat there in a daze for a moment, then suddenly began frantically searching for his phone. His fingers trembled as he found a number in his contacts. He stared at it for a full minute before gritting his teeth and pressing the call button. Half an hour later, Zhang Yu reluctantly put down his phone. "Ronan, why don't you go rest for a while? We can handle practice," Matthew Graves suggested. "Damn it, finally finished..." Matthew's expression brightened: "What's wrong with you? Didn't you just call a few days ago? What are you planning to eat for lunch? Oh, I forgot—it's evening in America now. What did you eat?" "You complain when I nag you, but you complain when I don't. You're impossible to please!" Zhang Haijun said. "I happen to know a genius. He probably hasn't made his choice yet," Zhang Yu said. But his predecessor had been as gifted at basketball strategy as he was terrible at judging players' potential. In that respect, he was on the same level as the great basketball god Michael Jordan—and so far, he had come up empty-handed. Half an hour later, Zhang Yu reluctantly put down his phone. In the past, the nagging had annoyed him, but now it sounded so soothing. He even felt like he might cry as he gave her detailed answers. Zhang Yu looked around the whole apartment, his thoughts stirring. "Hello, Xiaoyu? Isn't it Saturday today? Why are you calling?" A clearly middle-aged woman's voice came through, brimming with undisguised delight. Zhang Yu had been busy for three full hours before he got the apartment reasonably clean. He'd leave the remaining details for later. "You sure you didn't sleep badly, rather than not sleep at all?" His eyes were hollow, bloodshot, and rimmed by dark circles. His face was pale, and his hair was a tangled mess, like a bird's nest, with a few unruly strands sticking straight up. Li Yinghua was a little puzzled by her son's sudden way of speaking. Still, just getting a call from him made the unassuming middle-aged woman incredibly happy, and she immediately began asking about his life. Half an hour later, Zhang Yu reluctantly put down his phone. In the past, the nagging had annoyed him, but now it sounded so soothing. He even felt like he might cry as he gave her detailed answers. Zhang Yu looked around the whole apartment, his thoughts stirring. "You sure you didn't sleep badly, rather than not sleep at all?" His eyes were hollow, bloodshot, and rimmed by dark circles. His face was pale, and his hair was a tangled mess, like a bird's nest, with a few unruly strands sticking straight up. "You sure you didn't sleep badly, rather than not sleep at all?" His lips held a faint smile. He stood there calmly, left hand on his chest and right hand supporting his chin as he rubbed it. His distant gaze rested on the faraway stands at Hinkle Fieldhouse, as though Mike Conley hadn't turned down the Bulldogs at all—as though he'd been the one to reject Conley. "Ding..." "I fell asleep... All right, I admit it. I only slept three hours yesterday." Zhang Yu let out a huge yawn. "You sure you didn't sleep badly, rather than not sleep at all?" Zhang Yu looked around the whole apartment, his thoughts stirring. "You sure you didn't sleep badly, rather than not sleep at all?" His eyes were hollow, bloodshot, and rimmed by dark circles. His face was pale, and his hair was a tangled mess, like a bird's nest, with a few unruly strands sticking straight up. "You sure you didn't sleep badly, rather than not sleep at all?" "Old Zhang, don't you think Xiaoyu's been a little strange today? He didn't even complain about me nagging him." "As far as I know, Charlotte Christian High School doesn't have any star players graduating this year." "You sure you didn't sleep badly, rather than not sleep at all?" "Ronan, why don't you go rest for a while? We can handle practice," Matthew Graves suggested. The next day, Zhang Yu arrived at Hinkle Fieldhouse early. The Bulldogs' players also arrived one after another to practice. Matthew was a little taken aback and said: "Of course I know that, but those geniuses might not even know the Bulldogs' name," Matthew Graves sighed. But Zhang Yu couldn't stand the living conditions, even though he wasn't a neat freak. After making a plan, he quickly began his "Apartment Cleaning Project." Zhang Yu stared blankly out the window. A few wispy clouds drifted over, covering half the moon. The moonlight was like gauze, like mist. A thought that had been drifting through his mind ever since he'd crossed over grew crystal clear. "Ronan, why don't you go rest for a while? We can handle practice," Matthew Graves suggested. The next day, Zhang Yu arrived at Hinkle Fieldhouse early. The Bulldogs' players also arrived one after another to practice. Matthew was a little taken aback and said: "Of course I know that, but those geniuses might not even know the Bulldogs' name," Matthew Graves sighed. But Zhang Yu couldn't stand the living conditions, even though he wasn't a neat freak. After making a plan, he quickly began his "Apartment Cleaning Project." Zhang Yu stared blankly out the window. A few wispy clouds drifted over, covering half the moon. The moonlight was like gauze, like mist. A thought that had been drifting through his mind ever since he'd crossed over grew crystal clear. Matthew had handled the team's recruiting for years. He thought it over, then his expression turned disappointed: "Mike Conley? He made the McDonald's All-American team. He was never very likely to come to Butler, was he?" Stevens asked, confused. His predecessor's memories were right. Zhang Yu's parents in this world were the same people as his parents in his past life, only more than ten years younger. Listening to the familiar Shandong dialect, Zhang Yu felt a weight lift from his heart. His voice was soft, but firm, as he said: Zhang Yu had been busy for three full hours before he got the apartment reasonably clean. He'd leave the remaining details for later. Zhang Yu was a little taken aback and said: He rolled over and looked toward the window. The curtains blocked it completely, but the moonlight and starlight seemed to pierce right through them, casting a dim but enduring glow across the floor. Matthew had handled the team's recruiting for years. He thought it over, then his expression turned disappointed: "Ronan, why don't you go rest for a while? We can handle practice," Matthew Graves suggested. "You sure you didn't sleep badly, rather than not sleep at all?" "No. I'm just a little excited, so I can't sleep," Zhang Yu said listlessly. Matthew's expression brightened: He'd thought about a lot of things the previous night. In the second half of the night, he'd simply gotten up and written down many details from his past life, so he wouldn't forget them later. Matthew Graves walked over, looking serious: "Ding..." Li Yinghua was in a good mood, smiling cheerfully and not getting annoyed. In the past, Zhang Haijun would have been nagged all evening. Listening to the familiar Shandong dialect, Zhang Yu felt a weight lift from his heart. His voice was soft, but firm, as he said: The next day, Zhang Yu arrived at Hinkle Fieldhouse early. The Bulldogs' players also arrived one after another to practice. Mike Conley didn't trust a twenty-three-year-old Chinese head coach. Zhang Yu's presence had snuffed out the last possibility of Conley joining the Bulldogs. "I fell asleep... All right, I admit it. I only slept three hours yesterday." Zhang Yu let out a huge yawn. "You sure you didn't sleep badly, rather than not sleep at all?" "Old Zhang, don't you think Xiaoyu's been a little strange today? He didn't even complain about me nagging him." Matthew had handled the team's recruiting for years. He thought it over, then his expression turned disappointed: "As far as I know, Charlotte Christian High School doesn't have any star players graduating this year." "You sure you didn't sleep badly, rather than not sleep at all?" "Hello, Xiaoyu? Isn't it Saturday today? Why are you calling?" A clearly middle-aged woman's voice came through, brimming with undisguised delight. Zhang Yu looked around the whole apartment, his thoughts stirring. "You sure you didn't sleep badly, rather than not sleep at all?" His eyes were hollow, bloodshot, and rimmed by dark circles. His face was pale, and his hair was a tangled mess, like a bird's nest, with a few unruly strands sticking straight up. "You sure you didn't sleep badly, rather than not sleep at all?" His lips held a faint smile. He stood there calmly, left hand on his chest and right hand supporting his chin as he rubbed it. His distant gaze rested on the faraway stands at Hinkle Fieldhouse, as though Mike Conley hadn't turned down the Bulldogs at all—as though he'd been the one to reject Conley. "Ding..." "I fell asleep... All right, I admit it. I only slept three hours yesterday." Zhang Yu let out a huge yawn. But Matthew still insisted: "Matthew, start recruiting someone new." Stevens spoke up. "A genius like Mike Conley won't choose the Bulldogs." But this wasn't a problem for Zhang Yu. Nobody knew better than he did who would become a superstar in the future. Matthew Graves walked over, looking serious: "You sure you didn't sleep badly, rather than not sleep at all?" Zhang Yu looked around the whole apartment, his thoughts stirring. He looked hollow-eyed, with bloodshot eyes and a pale face. His hair was a tangled mess, like a bird's nest, with a few unruly strands sticking straight up. "You sure you didn't sleep badly, rather than not sleep at all?" He couldn't help yawning again: "Old Zhang, don't you think Xiaoyu's been a little strange today? He didn't even complain about me nagging him." "As far as I know, Charlotte Christian High School doesn't have any star players graduating this year." "You sure you didn't sleep badly, rather than not sleep at all?" "Ronan, why don't you go rest for a while? We can handle practice," Matthew Graves suggested. The next day, Zhang Yu arrived at Hinkle Fieldhouse early. The Bulldogs' players also arrived one after another to practice. Matthew was a little taken aback and said: "Of course I know that, but those geniuses might not even know the Bulldogs' name," Matthew Graves sighed. But Zhang Yu couldn't stand the living conditions, even though he wasn't a neat freak. After making a plan, he quickly began his "Apartment Cleaning Project." Zhang Yu stared blankly out the window. A few wispy clouds drifted over, covering half the moon. The moonlight was like gauze, like mist. A thought that had been drifting through his mind ever since he'd crossed over grew crystal clear. "Ronan, why don't you go rest for a while? We can handle practice," Matthew Graves suggested. The next day, Zhang Yu arrived at Hinkle Fieldhouse early. The Bulldogs' players also arrived one after another to practice. Matthew was a little taken aback and said: "Of course I know that, but those geniuses might not even know the Bulldogs' name," Matthew Graves sighed. But Zhang Yu couldn't stand the living conditions, even though he wasn't a neat freak. After making a plan, he quickly began his "Apartment Cleaning Project." Zhang Yu stared blankly out the window. A few wispy clouds drifted over, covering half the moon. The moonlight was like gauze, like mist. A thought that had been drifting through his mind ever since he'd crossed over grew crystal clear. Matthew had handled the team's recruiting for years. He thought it over, then his expression turned disappointed: "Ronan, why don't you go rest for a while? We can handle practice," Matthew Graves suggested. "You sure you didn't sleep badly, rather than not sleep at all?" "No. I'm just a little excited, so I can't sleep," Zhang Yu said listlessly. Matthew's expression brightened: He'd thought about a lot of things the previous night. In the second half of the night, he'd simply gotten up and written down many details from his past life, so he wouldn't forget them later. Matthew Graves walked over, looking serious: "Ding..." Li Yinghua was in a good mood, smiling cheerfully and not getting annoyed. In the past, Zhang Haijun would have been nagged all evening. Listening to the familiar Shandong dialect, Zhang Yu felt a weight lift from his heart. His voice was soft, but firm, as he said: The next day, Zhang Yu arrived at Hinkle Fieldhouse early. The Bulldogs' players also arrived one after another to practice. Mike Conley didn't trust a twenty-three-year-old Chinese head coach. Zhang Yu's presence had snuffed out the last possibility of Conley joining the Bulldogs. "I fell asleep... All right, I admit it. I only slept three hours yesterday." Zhang Yu let out a huge yawn. "You sure you didn't sleep badly, rather than not sleep at all?" "Old Zhang, don't you think Xiaoyu's been a little strange today? He didn't even complain about me nagging him." Matthew had handled the team's recruiting for years. He thought it over, then his expression turned disappointed: "Ronan, why don't you go rest for a while? We can handle practice," Matthew Graves suggested. "You sure you didn't sleep badly, rather than not sleep at all?" Matthew Graves walked over, looking serious: "You sure you didn't sleep badly, rather than not sleep at all?" "I happen to know a genius. He probably hasn't made his choice yet," Zhang Yu said. But his predecessor had been as gifted at basketball strategy as he was terrible at judging players' potential. In that respect, he was on the same level as the great basketball god Michael Jordan—and so far, he had come up empty-handed. But when you put all your energy into one thing, it's hard to make time for anything else. "..."