Dad, Please Try a Little Harder

Chapter 85: Chapter 77 Qian Quan almost kissed; Qian

Quan slam dunked!_2

Translator: Inschain | Editor: Inschain

It became impossible to associate that song with Jay Chou anymore.

“Only in the dark night do I dream of the girl I once loved…”

Qian Quan sang and finished the song.

On the other side, Ding Linlang’s new song was selected.

They went back and forth, each picking a song in turn.

Without talking, without interacting, they sat at opposite ends of the sofa. A silent understanding existed between them – they’d sing for a bit, then drink for a bit.

They each quickly finished their bottle of beer.

Their minds started to get a bit fuzzy.

Without Ding Linlang having to say anything, Qian Quan automatically fetched

two more bottles.

Alcohol was strange. Before you started drinking, you believed you had solid self-control. You could plan exactly how much you would drink.

But after the first round, all bets were off. If anyone tried to stop you, it felt like they were opposing you, as you felt invincible.

This bravado lasted until you were bent over a toilet, throwing up.

And then you’d post on social media, proclaiming, “Starting from today, I’m quitting drinking. Day one check-in, please supervise me…

Those check-ins would last a week at most, sometimes just half a day.

When Qian Quan and Ding Linlang finished their second bottle, they began singing songs that had been released years before.

No longer sitting at opposite ends, they moved to the middle of the sofa, singing boisterously face to face, their voices loud and passionate.

They were so close, separated only by a metaphorical paper-thin barrier.

But that barrier was as strong as silk.

Being too familiar with someone can make taking even a small step forward

feel daunting.

When the music abruptly stopped, they looked into each other’s eyes, breathing in the scent of one another. They could even see each other’s throats move as they swallowed.

The colorful lights inside the room flickered, setting the mood.

Just as Qian Quan, emboldened by the alcohol, started to lean in and Ding Linlang, also influenced by the drink, slowly closed her eyes, her phone suddenly rang.

Both of them were jolted back to reality.

Qian Quan straightened up, while Ding Linlang exhaled and answered the call.

It was a video call from her father.

“Hello, Dad.” Ding Linlang instantly regained her composure.

“Sweetheart, happy birthday!” Her father joyfully exclaimed, then asked, somewhat puzzled, “Where are you? Why are your cheeks so flushed? Where’s

Rocky?”

Passing by the yoga studio, he saw a group of women being instructed by a stunningly beautiful yoga instructor.

Qian Quan observed for a moment before heading to the basketball room.

Zhao Chunjia wasn’t there today, but his wife, Huang Lingyan, who was also Zhao Baiyu’s mother, was present.

According to the staff who had approached him about the coaching contract, the management of this place would mainly be handed over to the lady boss, who would occasionally come over to supervise.

Seeing Qian Quan, Huang Lingyan greeted warmly, “Rocky.”

Given their school senior-junior relationship, it was natural for her to address him by his nickname.

She had wanted to call him “Qian Quan” or “Xiao Quan,” but both felt awkward, so they settled on “Rocky.”

“Yeah,” Qian Quan replied politely. “There seem to be a lot of attendees today.” Glancing around, he noticed about twenty to thirty children aged between three and nine.

Together with their accompanying parents, the basketball room was bustling with activity.

“These are the ones scheduled for today. There will be just as many tomorrow,” Huang Lingyan said. “However, we don’t know how many will actually sign up.1 “Right,” Qian Quan chuckled. “By the way, did they have any specific requests for the trial class?”

“Well, the initial plan was to let you coaches conduct a class for the kids directly.

-But a few of the fathers wanted to first gauge the basketball skills of you coaches…”

Huang Lingyan sounded somewhat resigned.

“Oh? Do they want a one-on-one challenge?

Huang Lingyan laughed, “Not exactly. They wanted the four of you to play a match.”

■■They sure like to make things lively,” Qian Quan grinned. “What did the other coaches say?”

“They’re all okay with it.”

“Then let’s play. Maybe invite two parents to join in.”

“Great idea.”

As Qian Quan and Huang Lingyan discussed, they approached the other three coaches.

Huang Lingyan told Qian Quan’s suggestion to them.

Everyone agreed.

However, when Huang Lingyan went to discuss with the fathers, only one was eager, while the rest politely declined with a smile.

So, the idea was dropped.

Qian Quan and the other three coaches decided to play a 2v2 half-court game to 10 points.

Qian Quan initially assumed the match would be a friendly one, with everyone showcasing their skills. But once the game began, he realized the three of them seemed to be isolating him.

The two on the opposite side went without saying, coordinating with each other seamlessly, passing the ball, posting up, layups, jump shots, and fully showcasing their skills.

His teammate kept letting Qian Quan inbound the ball, only to ignore him and play solo once he got it.

The opposing coaches, however, played into his hands by deliberately defending him poorly.

Realizing their intentions, Qian Quan didn’t react outwardly and simply warmed up.

During a defensive play, he purposely let his opponents enter the paint. As one attempted a layup, Qian Quan blocked it hard, catching the ball mid-air. Subsequently, he ignored the call for the ball from the coach on his side, took the ball out past the three-point line, and did a complete circle. Facing the opponent’s defense, he executed two perfectly timed crossovers, leaving the defenders cleanly behind.

Then he gently lobbed the ball towards the backboard, leaped into the air, caught the ball, and slammed it home.

The scene went silent for a second, followed by an eruptive roar of cheers. Especially those seven or eight-year-old kids, who cheered extremely loudly..

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