Chapter 3: The Beginning of Returning to the Bench (3)

"Ning Zhou is a genius when it comes to vision!"

The volleyball leaving Ning Zhou’s hand spun not at all, carrying an inner force as it flew toward the outside hitter’s position…

The blockers on the other side wanted to chase after the ball, but their bodies simply couldn’t keep up—

They’d just gone up for a block on the previous play at the outside spot and were still shuffling back to their positions.

The athleticism of the players allowed them to change direction instantly.

But for a body to come to a stop and then launch itself again required a fraction of a second—a fraction that, on a volleyball court, could be fatal.

A chorus of astonished shouts rose from the players on the sidelines:

"My god, he’s created a single block!"

"More than that—since the block went up late, the height is no threat at all. It’s almost an open net!"

"And Shao Qiu’s back row isn’t in formation. The outside hitter has so many lines to choose from!"

"Wow, that setter is too lucky—first set of the match and he’s already found a gap in their defense…"

The opposition was rattled.

But the one most nervous on the court was actually Ning Zhou himself…

He’d just been reborn into this match and wasn’t yet used to his perfectly restored fingers.

He had intentionally eased up on power while setting, but the ball’s trajectory was still high—higher than most spikers’ ideal contact point…

Damn, my first set and I’m already putting my hitter in a tough spot!

The confidence Ning Zhou had before the set vanished, replaced by a grimace as he turned toward the outside hitter—

Yu Bai’s eyes locked onto the ball, as fierce as his closely cropped hair.

Not a trace of emotion on his face, as if he had no opinion about the high set. He simply stepped forward to jump and spike—

Yu Bai’s approach was unique.

He kept his center of gravity lower than other players, crouched like a leopard about to pounce, his thighs coiled with explosive power.

The advantage of this low start was its sheer force; as Yu Bai planted and leapt, it was as if gravity no longer applied and he soared above the floor.

In the air, he extended his arm and struck the ball at its peak.

His attack point was well above the outstretched hands of the block, spiking the ball cleanly into the opponent’s court—

A sharp, decisive kill straight to the floor!

The crowd gasped, startled by the ferocity of Yu Bai’s spike…

The referee blew the whistle—Yu Bai’s team scored the first point and took the lead!

1:0

A point snatched with no real danger. Ning Zhou, adjusting his feel for the ball, sidled up to Yu Bai:

"Nice one! Was my set a little too high?"

Yu Bai silently rolled his shoulders.

Ning Zhou pressed on: "You didn’t seem to go all out on that spike. Should I set it a bit lower next time?"

Yu Bai glanced down at him, then turned away. "No need."

"…Alright."

Ning Zhou had never encountered a hitter so hard to communicate with, not even in his previous life.

Back then, Yu Bai was a core member of the national team, while Ning Zhou was a substitute.

Besides necessary exchanges in practice, they almost never interacted alone—

And never with the tense, combative air that hung between them now.

What’s he angry about? Did a jumping virus infect his language skills? Ning Zhou wondered in frustration.

"Ning Zhou! We actually scored first!"

His roommate, Nie Fei’ang, was so excited he snorted like a bull:

"You and Yu Bai work so well together! Did you know his hitting point was high and purposely set it higher for him?"

Ning Zhou pressed his lips together modestly:

"Shh, keep it lowkey."

Nie Fei’ang’s eyes sparkled with admiration:

"Great job, Ning Zhou! Set a few for me too, okay? This is our chance to shine in front of the coaches!"

Ning Zhou pretended not to hear and walked back to the service line.

At that moment, the audience’s focus was all on Yu Bai—

"Who is this guy? That spike was at least three and a half meters high!"

"I’ve seen some big jumpers, but his takeoff was on another level—gave me goosebumps…"

"What has he been eating—springs?"

Assistant coach Ning Xu also praised him: "Great talent! Coach Luo’s eye is as sharp as ever!"

"No, you’ve never lost when it comes to spotting talent yourself," Coach Luo replied, his eyes gleaming, smile deepening:

"Yu Bai’s performance is outstanding, but let’s not overlook the setter’s precision.

Can he maintain that wide vision for a long time?"

Ning Xu shook his head.

"From what I’ve seen, Ning Zhou’s vision is innate, but his stamina is average. His focus drops in the second half, and then there are mistakes connecting his sets and vision."

"I see…" Coach Luo rubbed his fingers together, energized. "That’s good enough for me!"

…

As the coaching staff discussed, the players on court were already analyzing the play.

Despite wasting an offensive opportunity, the Shao Qiu team wasn’t discouraged:

"That last pass was my fault. I didn’t get the first touch."

"No problem—next one’s ours!"

"Their new outside hitter is just too strong. It’s normal that we can’t stop him."

Only Du Jun looked displeased, smoothing out the edges of his kinesiology tape:

"Their setter’s faster than I expected. Let’s change our block formation—spread out instead of bunching in the middle."

The middle blocker raised an eyebrow: "That was just a lucky set… Alright, your call. There’s not much to fear from their setter anyway. Once I block a few, you’ll see."

The whistle blew. Having secured the serve, Yu Bai’s team kept the right to serve, so Ning Zhou stepped up again.

He pressed his palm to the ball, recalling the feel from before.

His toss was calm, and in the instant he jumped to strike, there was a tiny adjustment in his wrist—

The ball just skimmed the net, heading for the back row outside hitter again.

But this time, after crossing the net, its trajectory dropped sharply…

A sinking float serve to the middle!

"Damn!"

That outside hitter, after experiencing the previous deep serve, had moved back in anticipation.

But now the ball dropped short in the midcourt!

He tried to move, but his feet couldn’t respond in time. He dove forward, barely managing to dig the ball…

But he’d put too much power into it, and the ball shot back over the net.

Another chance to attack for Yu Bai’s team!

The other outside hitters watching shuddered, looking disgusted:

"This is bad—two straight serve receives failed, and it’s only the setter’s weaker serve rotation…"

"I’d rather shank a power jump serve than be tortured by these floaters!"

"Don’t put yourself in their shoes! My friend’s about to have a nervous breakdown!"

Yu Bai’s libero dug the ball, feeling like he’d just won the lottery: "We’ve got a chance!"

Ning Zhou moved into the setter’s position.

He lowered his eyelids; the six players across the net were imprinted on the flat of his mind.

The three blockers had already switched formations, spread out across their positions.

It would be hard to create an open net like before—no matter where he set, at least one would track the ball…

Ning Zhou’s jump set was graceful, his intentions unreadable until the ball left his hands.

The opposing middle blocker couldn’t guess if he’d set forward or back, so he waited anxiously in the center…

Ning Zhou’s eyes flashed—he quickly set to where his roommate, Nie Fei’ang (the middle blocker), was about to jump—

A quick attack!

With a snap of his fingers, the ball shot out at speed.

Usually, setters wouldn’t risk such a fast play with a middle they’d never paired with in a match before—especially with no secret signals…

But Ning Zhou knew Nie Fei’ang—

His greatest strength was his explosive speed.

Given a simultaneous take-off, he could reach his highest point faster than anyone else.

And besides…

Ning Zhou’s eyes softened, pouring his response to Nie Fei’ang into the set—

Here’s the ball you wanted!

Nie Fei’ang, as if injected with adrenaline, leapt up, but the opposing middle was a beat late to block…

Over-eager to show off, Nie Fei’ang failed to control his swing.

The ball, carrying the sincerity of the setter’s intent, was spiked out of bounds…

"Uh…" Nie Fei’ang looked at Ning Zhou nervously, stiff-necked but stubborn: "It touched the block! Definitely touched it!"

If a spike grazes the block and goes out, it counts as a point for the spiking team;

But if it goes straight out, it’s a hitting error and the point goes to the other side.

Whether or not it touched the block would decide the point…

The Shao Qiu middle blocker looked aggrieved:

"Touched what? I didn’t even jump!"

The audience laughed:

"Shouting out that your block was useless must feel awful~"

"The spiker must feel worse—missed an easy point!"

"Tsk tsk—neither middle has room to laugh at the other. Public embarrassment in front of the coaches for both of them, haha!"

The referee ignored their protests and ruled it an attack error, awarding the point to Shao Qiu’s team.

Ning Zhou stopped Nie Fei’ang, who was about to argue, and apologized across the net to the opposing middle:

"Sorry, he got carried away. No hard feelings. It didn’t touch the block—I saw it clearly."

"…It’s fine."

The middle looked conflicted, curiosity getting the better of him as he stared into Ning Zhou’s eyes:

"Did you set to the middle because you saw I was going to block the outside?"

"So you were planning to block the outside!"

Ning Zhou pointed at his legs:

"No wonder your center of gravity was high and you weren’t bending your knees to jump. That’s how I knew you’d be late for a quick attack."

The middle put on a mask of pain: "Seriously? In less than a second before your set, you analyzed my legs?"

Ning Zhou continued earnestly: "And your back row defense was positioned deeper, so I guessed you were all worried about Yu Bai’s power spike…"

"!?"

The middle’s face changed as he gripped the net, mouth opening and closing, speechless…

Thinking the conversation over, Ning Zhou turned to comfort the crestfallen Nie Fei’ang:

"It’s fine, just get it next time."

Nie: "Ning Zhou, you’ll set for me again, right?"

Ning: "We’ll see."

Nie: "You’re mad! I know that ball touched his fingertips!"

Ning: "…"

Across the net.

As Shao Qiu’s team gathered to celebrate the point, they realized someone was missing.

They turned to see their middle hanging from the net, looking like a fish caught in a trawler…

Du Jun poked his back: "Still alive?"

"Du Jun, you were right!"

The middle, revived by his ordeal, grabbed Du Jun’s shoulders and shook him: "It’s their setter we need to watch out for most!"

…

In the stadium’s reception lounge, a woman in her fifties leafed through the player profiles for the men’s national volleyball training camp, looking troubled:

"The main setter really doesn’t want to be on the show? We can adjust the shooting schedule and timing!"

"Director Zhang, we’ve confirmed with Shao Qiu several times. He doesn’t want to waste any of his training. You should find someone else… Maybe try the national track and field center next door…"

"Wait, this face!?"

Director Zhang shot to her feet, finger trembling as it pointed to a headshot in the profile: "Can you ask if this player would be willing to join our show?"

The name on the profile was clear: Ning Zhou.