BAS CH 1

Summary : See? That’s our dorm’s ‘Little Beauty’.

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“What’s so appealing about these basketball scholarship students? I really don’t get it.”

The late September weather was practically the textbook definition of “crisp autumn air.” Outside, the sky was clear, like blue glass washed clean by water, with occasional fluffy clouds drifting by that looked as soft and pettable as white cotton.

Despite the beautiful scenery, Qu Ci couldn’t enjoy it outdoors. Instead, he was stuck in the basketball gym with his best friend, Ruan Lin, watching the school’s men’s team play a practice match. He felt like a total fool.

Especially since three of the players were his unlucky roommates—just one glance at them was enough to ruin his mood.

He had been perfectly content living in the old campus, sharing a dorm with classmates from his own major. But then, in his sophomore year, they all moved to the new campus. When Qu Ci saw his new dorm assignment, his heart sank.

All the other boys from his major were rooming together—only he was assigned elsewhere.

When he arrived at his new dorm with his luggage, he felt like giving up entirely.

As soon as he stepped inside, three towering figures, each around 190 cm tall, loomed in the room like giant pillars blocking out the sky. To make matters worse, it was still sweltering hot at the end of August, and the three of them were drenched in sweat—the smell alone was enough to knock him out.

They were all basketball scholarship students from the School of Economics and Management.

Scholarship students were essentially student-athletes, and to Qu Ci, student-athletes were his sworn enemies!

Back in middle school, when he was still as scrawny as a bean sprout, he had been bullied by student-athletes—not just once or twice, but repeatedly over a long period.

That was the darkest time of Qu Ci’s life. Although he had since moved on, the stereotype stuck with him, and every student-athlete he encountered only reinforced it.

Sharing a dorm with them felt like being trapped in hell, tormented day and night.

But he couldn’t just switch dorms without a valid reason. He had tried applying to the counselor, only to be coldly rejected.

“Basketball scholarship students have great figures—narrow waists, long legs, broad shoulders, and well-proportioned muscles that aren’t too bulky. They’re so pleasing to the eye—they’re my ideal life models!” Ruan Lin said cheerfully, tilting his head to playfully nuzzle Qu Ci’s shoulder. “Qu-ge, you’re risking your life to keep me company tonight—I’ll treat you to chicken hotpot!”

“Of course you’re treating—this is my compensation for emotional damages!” Qu Ci retorted, lowering his head as he sketched designs on his tablet with a stylus.

Beside him, Ruan Lin was also drawing on his tablet, working on a fan art piece in an anime style.

The two had been friends since high school. Though they weren’t in the same class, they became close during art training camp. They took the art entrance exams together and were admitted to the same university. The only difference was that Qu Ci majored in product design, while Ruan Lin studied animation.

Qu Ci glanced at his friend’s tablet. “How’s the drawing coming along? Don’t let my sacrifice go to waste.”

“Going great!” Ruan Lin cheerfully showed off his masterpiece.

The drawing depicted two people in tank tops. Though only parts of their bodies were visible, it was clear they were both boys. The slimmer one was biting the hem of his own lifted shirt, his hand slipping under the other’s clothes, while the other’s large hand was caressing his waist.

Qu Ci: “…”

“More porn?” He clicked his tongue in disapproval.

Ruan Lin was a moderately popular fan artist online, known for his bold style. He grinned and said, “So? The contrast in skin tone and body type is maxed out—the sexual tension is through the roof!”

On the darker-skinned hand, veins bulged slightly, and the index finger pressed against a slender, pale waist, clearly hinting at a downward movement.

The stronger one’s shirt was only partially lifted, revealing a glimpse of well-defined abs.

“I used Fang Ye as a reference for this muscular guy’s body,” Ruan Lin whispered. “Isn’t it just mouthwatering?!”

Qu Ci was speechless. “Wipe your drool. What’s so great about him? He’s like a cold-faced demon.”

“Ah, you’re straight—you wouldn’t get it!” Ruan Lin, who was gay, grinned with dreamy infatuation.

Qu Ci really didn’t get it. Though he admitted that some student-athletes had beautifully defined muscles, emotionally, he couldn’t bring himself to like them.

Tweet! A whistle sounded from the court, marking the end of the second quarter of the practice match. The players moved to the sidelines, some drinking water, others wiping off sweat.

Some acted as if they couldn’t afford towels, simply lifting their shirts to wipe their faces.

Ruan Lin let out an excited “Wow!” and immediately started sketching from life.

Qu Ci glanced down inadvertently and happened to lock eyes with Fang Ye.

This guy was practically the top streamer among their cohort. From the moment he started university, his name had been on everyone’s lips—

A National Level 2 Basketball Athlete, seen as a candidate for the next university team captain as soon as he enrolled. His brains matched his brawn; despite being a scholarship student, his college entrance exam score surpassed the first-tier cutoff, landing him in the International Trade program.

Rumour had it he came from a wealthy family—his mother was a partner at a prestigious law firm, his father a second-generation rich kid who had already taken the helm of the family’s trade group.

Of course, all that was just “drawing the dragon.” The finishing touch, the dotting of the eyes, was that he was genuinely handsome.

The cool, fierce kind of handsome. Even though he always looked menacing and never gave anyone a pleasant expression, no one could deny that face was one of Nuwa’s more outstanding graduation projects.

While Qu Ci held no positive impressions of student-athletes, he objectively admitted Fang Ye was handsome.

Since freshman year, a steady stream of suitors, male and female, had thrown themselves at him—love letters, posts on the campus confession wall, heartfelt declarations in person—totalling no less than a few hundred. It was said all were met with cold rejection.

Not just indifferent, but icy cold. A famous quote from Fang Ye circulated around campus, born when a desperate suitor broke down and demanded, “What kind of person do you even like?!” He replied like a robot: “Sorry, I don’t like humans.”

He really managed to pull off that aloof act.

Gradually, the female suitors backed off, but a few bold gay men still pestered him relentlessly. Thus, rumors spread that Fang Ye was homophobic.

It was said he beat up a persistent bottom who was harassing him, sending him to the hospital. Shielded by his lawyer mother, he only had to pay the medical bills and got off easily, while the bottom was advised to leave the university.

After all this, Fang Ye’s suitors had mostly given up. After all, while three-legged frogs are hard to find, two-legged handsome guys aren’t exactly scarce on campus.

Qu Ci had never actually met the guy before, though he often came across his photos online. Since moving to the new campus, his dorm was in the School of Economics and Management zone, so he occasionally spotted that 195 cm tall, upright figure in the hallway.

Qu Ci himself was 180 cm, but standing near these basketball scholarship students, he felt petite for the first time.

So far, they hadn’t really crossed paths. That unintentional eye contact just now was practically their first face-to-face encounter.

One impression: fierce, really fierce.

Especially just after finishing a quarter, his eyes looked like they wanted to devour someone.

His eye shape was nice, very much like the deep-set, large eyes with thick brows seen in comics, even giving a slight mixed-race vibe. Those diamond-shaped eyes could practically shoot laser beams to kill.

“See that? That’s the ‘little beauty’ from our dorm.”

On the sidelines, Shi Heng smirked, nudging Fang Ye’s shoulder and jerking his chin towards Qu Ci in the stands. “I think he’s definitely gay. I asked, and he didn’t deny it. He actually came here to watch us practice today. Maybe he has his eye on someone? Hopefully not me.” He smoothed down the shaved side of his head.

Thanks to his point guard instincts, Fang Ye had sharp observational skills. During that brief, accidental eye contact, he quickly memorized Qu Ci’s appearance.

Soft facial contours, delicate features—he stood out strikingly among the sparsely scattered people in the stands. Being called “little beauty” made sense.

Even with his long hair tied in a bun, his somewhat spirited demeanor prevented anyone from mistaking him for a girl.

A loose white shirt with jeans, clean academic style—clearly had good fashion sense.

From a distance, his good head-to-shoulder ratio was obvious: a small face, slender neck, so thin it looked like Fang Ye could snap it with one hand.

Whether he was gay or not was unclear, but even if he was, the chance he’d be interested in Shi Heng was negative. The idiot should look in a mirror.

He ignored Shi Heng. Just off the court, still catching his breath, he couldn’t be bothered to talk.

Shi Heng, as a substitute who hadn’t played, was full of energy and kept chattering: “I heard this Qu Ci—oh, the ‘little beauty’—is pretty amazing. Got into our university with the top professional score, joined several clubs, all anime-related, really popular with the girls. I heard some even have crushes on him. Those girls must be blind—how can they not tell he’s gay?”

Fang Ye still didn’t respond, taking small sips of water.

“Don’t think I’m lying. This guy is definitely not straight. Don’t know what his deal is—he likes playing with dolls. The kind with princess dresses and curly hair.” Shi Heng continued his rambling.

Fang Ye frowned slightly, glancing at him.

Seeing he’d caught the top streamer’s attention, Shi Heng gained momentum: “Really, not lying. His bookshelf is full of boxes, all doll heads. Damn, seeing them in the middle of the night would scare the piss out of me—”

Tweet! The third quarter began. Fang Ye mercilessly set down his water bottle, stood up, and returned to the court.

Qu Ci naturally noticed Shi Heng whispering to Fang Ye.

After over half a semester, the other two roommates were tolerable, but this guy was the worst. It was like he was selling swords—always, everywhere, having to fan (commit) some nonsense. Even after being put in his place a few times, he never learned.

He was probably gossiping about him. A dog’s mouth can’t spit out ivory.

Better not let it reach my ears, or I’ll put you in your place again!

Ruan Lin glanced at the tablet in Qu Ci’s hands. “Drawing pretty fast. An Empire waistline dress? That’s a big project.”

“Yeah, full makeup for a 1/4 scale doll, plus clothes and hair, all-inclusive.” Qu Ci generated the image and sent it to the client, waiting for feedback.

“That set doesn’t come cheap, right?”

“The doll body itself cost her six thousand. My part, materials and labor, is four thousand.”

Ruan Lin said sympathetically, “After costs, you’re barely making any manual labor fee. Really powering through with love.”

“She’s a regular. I need to be worthy of her trust.” Qu Ci put away his tablet.

He’d only been a BJD doll faceup artist for just over a year, but thanks to his skill and ability to make doll clothes, his overall value was high, and he had lots of repeat customers.

Doll owners spare no expense raising their “children.” Once they trust an artist’s skill, they’re willing to pay any price. Qu Ci didn’t overcharge; he cared more about his reputation.

The client was also a university student, probably still in class, so she didn’t reply immediately. Qu Ci leaned over to look at the初步 taking shape on Ruan Lin’s tablet. “You’re drawing Fang Ye, aren’t you? Be careful he doesn’t charge you copyright fees.”

“Don’t insult this master’s skills.” Ruan Lin said seriously. “Can’t blame me. Blame him for having a face like a 3D model—no matter how I draw it, it’ll somewhat resemble him.”

A sudden uproar erupted on the court. The rhythmic bouncing of the basketball and squeaking of shoes were replaced by chaos.

Both looked over to see Fang Ye and another player in some kind of conflict, nose to nose, chest to chest, both glaring furiously, looking ready to fight any second.

The coach wasn’t there, and the assistant coach acting as referee didn’t have enough authority to control them. Other players milled around, some pulling them apart, others fanning the flames, shouting loudly.

The indoor stadium was somewhat echoey, making it hard to hear who was saying what.

The next moment, Fang Ye suddenly exploded in rage, shoving the other guy back hard. The other player, clearly scared, backed up a few steps and then turned and ran.

Fang Ye sprinted after him with long strides, snatching a mop from the cleaning aunt’s bucket by the wall as he passed, chasing the guy around the stadium, beating him with it.

Ruan Lin stared, his eyes sparkling with little hearts. “Oh my god, so manly!”

“Kid, get a grip.” Qu Ci sighed. “This, right here, is called super-masculinity.”

BANG! The mop hit the guy being beaten, then bounced onto the seats in front of them. The loud noise made both of them jump.

Qu Ci looked over in shock, once again locking eyes with the panting, murderous-looking Fang Ye.