Inside the University of Texas basketball training facility, the air was thick with tension. Today's practice wasn't just another day of drills and scrimmages—it was judgment day.
After this session, head coach Rick Barnes would announce the official 12-man roster for March Madness.
To be honest, most spots were already locked in. What remained were only a few fringe positions—benchwarmers, water bottle carriers, guys who'd only see action during garbage time.
But even those roles were worth fighting for. For any college player, just stepping into March Madness—even just to wave a towel—was a dream.
After warm-ups and some shooting drills, Coach Barnes glanced at his watch.
"It's about time," he muttered.
Assistant coach Russell Springman clapped his hands sharply.
"Alright boys, circle up! Time for a full-court 5v5!"
The second he said it, Chen Yan's eyes lit up.
This was it.
Nothing showcases a player's all-around game better than a 5-on-5. This was his chance—maybe his only chance—to prove himself to the coaching staff.
Today's format was starters vs. reserves.
When the scrimmage began, Chen Yan wasn't on the floor. Instead, he stood on the sideline, waiting for his moment.
He wasn't even in the starting five for the second unit. He was a backup's backup. But he didn't mind. If he wasn't at the bottom of the barrel, he wouldn't need to claw this hard just to make the final cut.
"Quick pass! Move it, move it!"
"Nice shot, let's go!"
The reserve squad came out playing hard. Cheers and claps echoed in the gym with every hustle play.
Coach Barnes stood on the sidelines, nodding approvingly as he shouted occasional feedback.
In the early minutes, both squads traded buckets. But it didn't take long before the skill gap showed.
The starters were just too stacked.
After all, the Texas Longhorns had two surefire NBA-level talents.
First was Kevin Durant. No introduction needed. Averaging 25.8 points and 11.1 rebounds across 35 games this season. Eleven 30-point games. Four 35-plus performances. He was a flat-out monster in the NCAA.
Against these backups, it felt like an adult schooling middle schoolers. Durant made it look easy—too easy.
The other beast? DJ Augustin.
Texas's starting point guard. Quick as hell, smart with the rock, and a smooth jumper. This season, he was putting up 14.4 points and 6.7 assists per game. His signature move—a cross between the legs Hardaway-style—was deadly.
Chen Yan remembered DJ mostly for one moment: the game-winner against the Raptors in the NBA playoffs.
If Durant was the team's thigh, then DJ was at least the calf.
And behind them, players like Damian James and Dexter Pittman—both brimming with potential—rounded out the core. With that much firepower, the second unit struggled to keep up.
Ten minutes in, Coach Barnes finally made some subs.
"Chen, Justin, Harris—you're in!"
Chen Yan jumped up instantly. This was it. His audition. His shot.
The three players leaving the court looked dejected. They hadn't performed well, and it might've just cost them a ticket to the Big Dance.
"Yo! Look who's checking in—our little academic all-star!" Damian James laughed as he noticed Chen walk onto the court.
The NCAA's infamous Proposition 48 meant that any player who didn't meet academic standards couldn't play. Dwyane Wade had missed his entire freshman year because of grades.
Ever since then, ballers started taking academics more seriously. Durant, DJ, and the other guys often turned to Chen Yan for help with assignments after practice.
It wasn't that Chen was a genius—it's just that some of his teammates were seriously clueless when it came to schoolwork.
At some point, tutoring became routine. One guy was brave enough to teach, and the rest were desperate enough to learn. Over time, Chen earned the nickname "Top Student."
Damian's teasing wasn't hostile, but it still annoyed Chen.
"Ignore that clown," DJ Augustin muttered as he patted Chen on the shoulder. "Focus up. You got this."
Durant followed with a nod. "Play your game. Lock in and make it count."
Chen gave a small nod. He wasn't here to bicker. His goal was simple—earn the coach's trust and land a roster spot.
The game resumed.
"Bang!"
Martin Hill, freshly subbed in, jacked up a jumper... brick.
Everyone on the second unit wanted to impress. But sometimes, trying too hard did more harm than good. Chen hadn't even touched the ball on their first possession.
Didn't matter.
If they wouldn't pass it, he'd take it.
"If there ain't a gun, snatch one. If there ain't a cannon, let the enemy bring it."
The main squad brought the ball up. DJ crossed halfcourt and dished to Damian James. James turned, stuck his butt out, and prepared to run a hand-off with Durant on the wing.
Damian was a weird case. He didn't have a jumper like a guard, nor the handles to create. But he was athletic, and his defense was solid—that's why he was starting.
Just as he and Durant were about to connect—
Snap!
Chen Yan cut in like a flash of lightning!
[God-Level Steal] Activated!
"SNATCHED!"
He ripped the ball clean from Damian's hands and took off down the court.
"Yo! Who gave this kid turbo?!"
Chen exploded down the floor, flying like he had NOS in his shoes. Damian barely had time to react before Chen was halfway to the rim.
Even Durant stared at his back in shock.
"Is this kid running a V10 engine or what?!"
BANG!
Chen Yan launched off his left foot and slammed it home with one hand.
Clean.
Simple.
Loud.
The coaches at the sideline glanced at each other, a little surprised. Chen looked faster. Hungrier. More locked in than usual.
Was he always this quick?
But they hadn't seen anything yet.
Next play—Durant pulled up off a short pass... clanked it.
Rebound!
Chen timed his jump perfectly, snatching the defensive board over two bodies.
No break opportunity this time, so he slowed things down, brought the ball up himself.
One step outside the three-point line, Damian James suddenly appeared in front of Chen Yan.
The last possession had ended with a hand-off pass being intercepted, and it left Damian James feeling humiliated. So this time, seeing Chen Yan with the ball again, he didn't hesitate—he stuck to him like glue.
In Damian's mind, Chen Yan's ball-handling was about on par with his. Back in college, the two were considered the pride of the University of Texas, the dragon and phoenix of the team.
Without thinking too much, Damian lunged in.
He went for the steal—full gamble!
But the very next second, Chen Yan dropped his center of gravity, baited him left, then quickly switched the ball to his right hand.
Crossover.
"Swish—"
The sound of sneakers screeching across the hardwood echoed, and just like that, Chen Yan vanished from in front of Damian.
Damian froze—completely stunned.
He had seen big crossovers before, but this? This was on a different level.
Iverson's signature crossover was famous for its explosive movement. But Chen Yan? He was nearly 20 centimeters taller than AI, and with that wingspan, the effect was even more exaggerated than Iverson's version.
One shake. One move.
And Damian was already one and a half body lengths behind!
By the time he snapped out of it, Chen Yan was already slicing through the paint like a sports car drifting through traffic.
Pittman and Durant both rotated to help.
Chen Yan didn't flinch—he took off just outside the restricted area, shifted mid-air, dodged through the opening like a phantom, and gently laid it in.
On the sideline, Damian could only feel his scalp tingling.
When the hell did this guy get so freakish?
"Chen's ball control, burst speed, and finishing at the rim... it's like a completely different player!" Russell Spreeman couldn't contain his excitement, shouting while scribbling notes.
As the team's offensive coach, he knew the skillset of every Longhorn player like the back of his hand.
Head Coach Rick Barnes said nothing. But his gaze was locked in, completely focused on Chen Yan now.
As the ball dropped cleanly through the net, Durant's face lit up with a mix of surprise and excitement. When Chen Yan jogged back on defense, Durant reached out and slapped his hand in approval.
From Durant's perspective, Chen Yan wasn't just better—this was a leap forward.
On the very next play, Chen caught the ball again, shifted under his legs with a quick change of direction, then pulled up for a smooth mid-range jumper.
Damian tried to react, but his center of gravity was already broken. His legs wouldn't listen. He wanted to jump and contest, but his body just wouldn't respond. He could only watch as the ball traced a perfect arc in the air.
"Shua!"
Wet.
Chen's movements were so damn fast, Damian swore it was like watching at 1.5x speed.
He stared at Chen Yan's back and shook his head. Is this guy cheating or what?
Over the next few minutes, Chen unleashed his full offensive arsenal without holding anything back.
A drive and finish plus the foul. A pullback jumper from midrange. A crafty inside floater after beating his man with a hesitation dribble.
Usually, the second team was just there for the starters to run practice. But today, under Chen Yan's command, they were going toe-to-toe.
"Chen's impact is way different now. He's way more aggressive!"
"That pull-up jumper—clean rhythm, and the touch is so much softer now."
"He's got 12 straight already! No one's stopping him today!"
Within minutes, the entire coaching staff's view of Chen Yan had flipped. Everyone in the gym had their eyes on him.
Normally, no one bothers with stats in a training scrimmage. But today? They were making an exception.
Once Chen checked in, the whole tone of the game shifted.
It wasn't just a scrimmage anymore.
It had become an audition.
Right as the coaching staff was whispering among themselves, Chen made another statement on the court.
He jumped a passing lane.
Reading the play early, Chen launched himself, intercepting DJ Augustine's lob to Durant mid-air like a heat-seeking missile.
Landing clean, he gathered and bolted downcourt solo.
As soon as he crossed half-court, two teammates instinctively sprinted up top to set screens for him.
That kind of treatment?
Said everything.
In just a few possessions, Chen hadn't only changed the coaches' opinions. His teammates were now looking at him differently, too.
Using the double screen, Chen weaved his way into the paint at a 45-degree angle from the left wing.
Dexter Pittman stepped up to cut him off. Damian James chased from behind after fighting through the screen.
They were ready to trap Chen. Lock him down. Put him in a vice.
But Chen didn't flinch.
He slammed the brakes, pulled the ball back like he was resetting to the perimeter.
"Bang!"
Just as the two defenders lunged to trap—
BOOM.
Chen exploded into a spin move out of nowhere!
The sudden shift in rhythm left Damian completely off balance.
Next thing you know—
CRASH!
Damian tumbled to the hardwood, sprawled out.
"WOOOOOOOOO!!"
"Yo Damian, you good bro? Ankle check!"
The bench erupted instantly.
This was pure American basketball culture. Nothing lit up a gym more than watching someone get their ankles snatched.
Chen leaned into Pittman, flicked his wrist, and banked it in easy.
Then, casually, he landed and reached down to pull Damian back up with a grin on his face.
To Damian, that smile?
Felt like mockery.
His face flushed red.
He regretted ever calling Chen a "top student" before the scrimmage started. The dude really gave him a damn lesson today.
Damian was getting cooked so bad, he had no fight left. Hell, he even felt like crying a little.
All he wanted now was for this scrimmage to be over.
Fast.
Durant, watching from the weak side, wiped sweat from his forehead.
He had originally thought about going easy on Chen in this scrimmage, maybe let him shine a bit so he could sneak into the twelve-man rotation.
But now?
Man, he realized he'd been thinking too much.
Forget "letting" Chen score—even if Durant went all out, he wasn't confident he could slow Chen down at all!
——
"I say we keep Chen," offensive coach Russell Spreeman said without hesitation after the game, turning toward the head coach. "We need that impact. That scoring punch."
"I'm with him," assistant coach Goodman added. "Chen's got something special. I really think he can help us next game."
Both of them turned to Rick Barnes, the head coach.
He hadn't said a word during the post-scrimmage chatter. The room fell silent for a beat, all eyes on him.
Feeling their stares, Coach Barnes finally looked up and broke the silence.
"What're you all staring at me for?"
Then he smiled.
"Put Chen on the roster already."