Chapter Seventy-One: Eight Kilograms

Yumanman spoke coldly, “Number Two, if you make a mistake, you must be punished… Before training, run 300 laps around the field!”

Three hundred laps!

Geng Haoshi stood there, his mouth agape in shock.

“What are you waiting for? Go now!”

The reason Yumanman so decisively assumed Geng Haoshi had done something wrong and punished him was, above all, because his current performance was still far from meeting the terms of her bet with the CEO of Feizhi Group. So whenever an opportunity arose, she would always give Geng Haoshi a little “extra.”

Of course, Geng Haoshi had no idea he was merely the bargaining chip in a wager between Yumanman and someone else. All he could do was obey, utterly bewildered, and start running his 300 laps.

…

After 300 laps, Geng Haoshi’s legs were trembling uncontrollably from exhaustion.

“Dinner’s ready!” Li Shishi’s sweet, clear voice rang out from the kitchen.

He let out a breath—he’d spent nearly the whole afternoon running, right up to mealtime. Collapsing onto the floor, Geng Haoshi didn’t want to move another step.

“Number Two, get up and eat!” Yumanman’s commanding voice cut through the air. “After you eat, training continues!”

Geng Haoshi was speechless. Couldn’t she just let him rest for a moment? Was her goal to work him to death?

“Get up now!”

Sighing, Geng Haoshi struggled to his feet, wobbling as he made his way to the dining hall.

Once all the basketball team members were seated, Yumanman addressed them. “I have an announcement. From now on, we need to make some changes to our training regimen.”

“Starting tomorrow, each of you must play at least one thousand rounds against the robot every day.”

“In addition, whether you’re training during the day or at night, you’ll have to wear weighted bags on your arms and legs—eight in total.”

Geng Haoshi couldn’t help but interject, “Coach, do we need to wear the weights for the hundred laps and shooting drills in the morning too?”

“Exactly!” Yumanman surveyed the team. “As long as you’re inside the gym, you’ll be wearing the weights!”

“Coach…” Geng Haoshi tried to say more—

“Silence!” Yumanman shot him a glare. “Eat!”

…

After dinner, the team lounged at the table, resting.

Zhu Di draped an arm around Geng Haoshi’s shoulders. “Number Two, did you commit some terrible crime this afternoon? Why are we suffering for it too?”

“Who knows what’s gotten into our coach again,” Geng Haoshi shook his head. “This afternoon I played five hundred rounds against the robot, barely finished training when she made me run 300 laps around the court… I’m the real victim here!”

He stroked his chin thoughtfully. “Could she be going through menopause?”

“Oh, I know the reason.” Zhu Di locked Geng Haoshi in a headlock. “It must be your lousy shooting percentage. The coach got angry and punished you with 300 laps, then took it out on all of us.”

“Yeah, that must be it,” the others chimed in.

Zhu Di raised an eyebrow at Geng Haoshi. “Since you’ve made our training harder, don’t you think you owe us?”

“At the very least, you should treat us to a good meal,” the others echoed.

“Heh, we could buy some groceries and cook ourselves. That way, we’ll eat well and still get reimbursed.” Even though he’d just received a five-thousand yuan bonus, Geng Haoshi had no intention of spending lavishly. After all, he knew what it meant to be poor (and frankly, he still was).

After half an hour’s rest, it was time for the evening training session.

The team strapped a weighted bag to each upper arm, forearm, thigh, and calf—eight in total on all four limbs.

Each weighed one kilogram, so every player was carrying eight kilograms.

Once the weights were secured, they began the evening’s training routine.

The tasks were the same as before: rapid passing, fast punching, 50-meter sprints, shooting, quick arm swings, and dribbling back and forth across the court.

At first, it didn’t seem so bad, but soon enough their arms and legs grew numb with fatigue.

Though it was only eight kilograms, as the training went on, the exhaustion was more than doubled.

Yumanman sat in the coach’s seat. “Number Two, finish all your training tasks by nine. Then go play five hundred rounds against the robot!”

Seriously?!

Even before, without the weighted bags, it took almost two hours to finish the session—let alone now, with eight kilograms strapped on!

“Coa…” Geng Haoshi started to protest, but thought better of it. There was no point in arguing.

After all, his shooting percentage was still far from the target, so he had no excuse.

…

Left with no choice, Geng Haoshi focused all his attention on the training tasks.

In truth, after a long period of training, being able to compress the time needed to complete the tasks actually helped improve training results.

For instance, to speed up the one thousand arm-swing drills (especially those for defense), you had to concentrate on finding the optimal swing arc and the best leg span, thus improving both efficiency and effectiveness.

And so, Geng Haoshi threw himself into the training—and really did manage to complete all the tasks, weighted down with eight kilograms, before nine o’clock.

Yumanman checked the time: 8:56. “Number Two, you have four minutes to rest.”

Damn! Devil! Demon! Geng Haoshi cursed inwardly.

Soon enough, it was nine.

Yumanman opened the X-6 room and kicked the reluctant Geng Haoshi inside.

He stepped into the red circle, and the room lit up. “Coach, do I have to play against the robot with all these weights on?”

“As I said, if you’re inside the gym, you wear the weights! Now start!”

“Ugh, I’m already exhausted, and now you want me to play the robot with all this weight… How inhuman,” Geng Haoshi muttered, dribbling the ball to the yellow line.

At first, to conserve energy, Geng Haoshi went straight for threes. Eight attempts, and not one hit the rim.

Watching the monitor in the Boss Room, Yumanman shouted in anger, “Number Two! Practise your two-pointers first! If you dare attempt another random three, I’ll geld you myself!”

Chastened by her outburst, Geng Haoshi didn’t dare shoot threes anymore, faithfully driving inside the arc, weaving between the three robots, looking for an opening to shoot.

Watching him on the monitor, Yumanman thought: Number Two, don’t blame me. It’s just that you have the best mentality of all these players. (In truth, you’re just goofy, clueless, and thick-skinned.)

The reason Yumanman chose a player with a good mentality for focused training, rather than the team’s star center Meng Lang, was tied to a sad story from her past. It happened six years ago…