We Were Young

Chapter 3: The Ball is in Your Court

Half an hour later.

Serena returned to her dorm, casually chewing on an ice pop. She had barely walked through the door when her phone buzzed with a text from one of the seniors on the school’s etiquette team. Apparently, there was some esports hosting gig at an internet café this weekend, and they wanted her to try it out.

An internet café? For esports?

The thought alone made her cringe. The image of smoke-filled rooms, greasy-haired boys glued to their screens, cigarette ash falling everywhere, and keyboards covered in grime was enough to make her stomach turn. An internet café was the last place a lady like her should ever step foot in.

Without even finishing the text, she exited the message.

Inside the dorm, it was the usual chaos. The dorm leader was engrossed in a Korean drama, another roommate was gaming while giggling over some in-game character, and yet another was lost in a Japanese anime. One of them sat in the corner, watching Japanese dramas and occasionally bursting out in creepy laughter. Only one girl, the youngest, sat at her desk, quietly working on her assignments. Serena had always thought she was the most normal one in the group.

Serena was number four in the dorm lineup.

It was the second year of living with these girls, but this year, she had smartly decided to move out to live with her grandmother nearby. There was no way she could tolerate another summer of sweltering 30-degree nights, where they rigged fans with open umbrellas to direct airflow. It was primitive living at its finest, a “survival hack” invented by some genius senior.

Serena placed her takeaway dinner on the table and was just about to ask if the youngest had eaten yet when her phone rang. She answered it, only to hear one of the seniors from the student council on the other end, calling her to an urgent meeting on the rooftop of Building 2 to work on the posters for the upcoming freshman welcome party.

“But I haven’t even—” Serena started.

The senior cut her off, “Don’t be late! This counts for attendance!”

Serena sighed, staring at her untouched dinner. “Haven’t eaten yet, huh?” she said with a forced smile as she placed the food in front of the youngest. “I’ve got a student council meeting and won’t have time. Want this?”

The girl, delighted at the prospect of saving time on a meal, eagerly accepted. “Wow, thanks! More time to study! You coming back tonight?”

Serena thought for a second. “Nah, I’ve got a class at ten tomorrow, so I’ll head back to my grandmother’s.”

The girl gave a wistful sigh. “Must be nice to live off-campus. Here, we lose power and Wi-Fi at midnight! Can’t even study after that… It must be amazing to have a car and live outside.”

Serena chuckled. “No car for me, just a family driver.”

“Wow! A personal driver? That’s next level rich!”

Before Serena could reply, one of her roommates snorted from her bed. “Yeah, not like it’s her own money,” she muttered under her breath, her tone unreadable.

Serena simply smiled and ignored the remark, glancing out the window at the blazing sun. The broken fan in the dorm still hadn’t been fixed, and the heat was unbearable. Not my problem, she thought. I’m not the one who’s going to die of heatstroke.

With her good deed done and the dinner handed off, Serena quickly changed into shorts, grabbed her bag, and headed out. She was in a rush, but when she arrived at Building 2, most of the other council members were already there. The seniors were directing everyone to prepare posters for the upcoming freshman welcome event, scheduled for the end of the month.

“This year’s party will be the first time multiple departments are working together,” one of the seniors explained, “so the posters need to reflect that. Once they’re ready, we’ll post them in all the departments. Get them done by tonight.”

Serena imagined herself hauling a giant three-meter-wide poster board around campus, surrounded by freshman boys. The image made her cringe internally, but she didn’t say a word. I signed up for this department, she thought. Gotta see it through.

The student council posters were divided into two categories: large hand-drawn ones for major announcements and smaller written ones for basic information. Serena was the council’s go-to person for hand-drawn fonts, her skill in creating POP-style posters becoming well known over the past year.

While the others busily designed the giant posters, Serena grabbed a marker from the desk and called over to the senior, “Are we still doing the written version of the posters?”

The senior nodded. “Yup, give it a try. Test it out first.”

Glad to have her own task, Serena bent down and started writing. However, after just a few lines, the marker ran out of ink. Annoyed, she tossed it aside. “No more ink in this marker. Are there new ones?”

At that moment, the senior picked up the discarded marker and examined it. “The nib’s still fine. Just dip it in some ink. Grab an ink tray.”

Serena blinked. “What?”

“Ink tray,” the senior repeated, as if it were the most normal thing in the world.

Serena stared at her in disbelief. Is the university going bankrupt or something? she thought. We’ve barely started the semester, and we’re already out of markers?

Reluctantly, she took the ink tray, dipped the marker, and resumed her task. She glanced at the senior, deadpan. “We don’t have to grind the ink ourselves, do we?”

The senior laughed. “Nah, we’ve got ready-made ink! Do you know how expensive that stuff is?”

Serena sighed, relieved but still silently fuming. She quickly finished her portion of the posters, rolled them up, and stuffed some tape in her pocket before heading out to plaster the small announcements across the departments.

As night fell, the university grounds were still alive with activity. The sports field at the Civil Engineering and Water Conservancy Department was buzzing with energy. Freshmen in their camouflage training uniforms gathered in small groups, their day of military training finally over. The boys were drenched in sweat, while the girls, slightly sunburned and with disheveled hair, chatted and laughed as they sat on the stone steps beside the field. There was a raw, youthful vitality in the air—the kind that only came from fresh high school graduates stepping into their first taste of freedom.

Serena walked through the gates, her freshly applied lipstick feeling oddly out of place. She glanced at the crowd of energetic freshmen, realizing that perhaps reapplying her makeup before entering this department wasn’t her smartest move. After all, she was just here to put up some posters, not impress anyone.

The sooner I post these and get out of here, the better, she thought to herself, clutching the rolled-up posters tighter.

She glanced around the unfamiliar campus, feeling a bit lost. Unlike her own department, where she knew every nook and cranny, this was unfamiliar territory. She had no idea where the bulletin board was. She considered approaching one of the students to ask for directions when, just as she was about to tap a short-haired girl on the shoulder, the girl let out an excited squeal.

“Ethan!”

Serena’s hand froze mid-air, retreating instantly. At the sound of that name, the entire group around her seemed to stir. Following their gazes, Serena looked toward the middle of the field.

There, under the dim glow of the night, a group of tall boys were playing basketball. They moved swiftly, their bodies agile as they leaped and dodged. And at the center of it all, the tallest among them, was Ethan.

Serena watched as he soared into the air, his long arms catching a rebound with ease. He landed with a soft thud, cradling the ball as he turned and darted past his opponents. With a smooth, effortless motion, he dribbled the ball toward the basket.

As Serena stood watching, Ethan’s figure blurred for a moment as her thoughts caught up with her. Carrying the ball like that should be a foul, right?

Before she could dwell on it, Ethan had already crossed the half-court line, weaving past three defenders. With a quick step, he made his way beneath the basket, launching the ball with a graceful three-step layup. The ball arced perfectly into the net.

Cheers erupted from all around, and the crowd clapped enthusiastically. The girls squealed his name, their voices filled with admiration, while the boys applauded loudly. Yet, as Serena stood on the sidelines, all she could focus on was the distinct smell of sweat carried by the breeze.

Her nose wrinkled slightly as she took a small step back, fighting the urge to cover her nose. Yep. Definitely him. My “rescuer” from earlier today, she thought, recalling the boy with the sheepish curls who had barged into her life.

As if sensing her presence, the basketball bounced towards her, coming to a stop at her feet. Serena glanced down at the ball, nudging it lightly with her polished leather shoes. Slowly, she lifted her head, locking eyes with a pair of startlingly bright, dark eyes staring back at her.

Ethan grinned, his eyes twinkling with amusement even under the dim light. “What are you standing there for, huh?” he called out, his voice teasing. “Pass me the ball, sis.”

Sis? Serena’s eye twitched at the word.

She glanced around at the fresh-faced girls nearby, their innocent expressions making her feel inexplicably older. It was as if Ethan’s casual use of “sis” had, in an instant, singled her out as the odd one out—the only one mature enough to bear the title.

Today, it seemed, the world was intent on pushing all her buttons.

With a sharp inhale, Serena tightened her grip on the rolled-up posters, the paper crinkling audibly. Her lips pressed together in a tight line, her frustration simmering beneath the surface. Without a word, she turned on her heel and began to walk away.

In the midst of the noisy chatter, only Ethan heard the soft, exasperated “hmph” she let out as she stalked off.

It was a sound that reminded him of the moment a layer of ice cracks on a cold drink—a soft, satisfying noise that somehow managed to make him smile.

“Boss, the ball!” one of the boys called from the court.

Ethan chuckled softly, stepping forward and scooping the ball up with one hand. “On it.”

“Why’re you grinning like some kind of street thug?” one of his friends asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Because that’s what I am,” Ethan replied with a smirk before jogging back to the game.