The lads ultimately failed to pry the true gossip from him, but Wang Zhuo's meaningful smile was enough to fuel their imaginations.

Since the group refused to leave and Wang Zhuo couldn't exactly kick them out, he fabricated an excuse to keep them chatting in his dorm room, allowing him to slip away quietly to Xu Chu’s room.

Along the way, the X-ray vision proved decisive, helping him dodge numerous chances of running into teachers or students. Except for the dorm matron, who waved amiably upon seeing him, no one else paid heed to the campus sensation, Instructor Wang, sneaking into Xu Chu’s quarters.

At most, only a few people caught a glimpse of his profile or his back.

"I was hoping you’d come find me, but those guys just wouldn't leave," Wang Zhuo explained with a dry chuckle.

Xu Chu’s dorm room was quite decent, and ever since the Li Mengru wrist-slitting incident, the other girl had moved out, leaving her living alone. Li Mengru had returned to school after the semester started but wasn't around today for some engagement.

The biggest drawback here, however, was the lack of a shower; one had to use the public bathhouse to clean up.

As Xu Chu helped him take off and hang up his jacket, she inquired, "He Ye said you have a friendly match against the Architecture Department this afternoon?"

"Even you know about it?" Wang Zhuo feigned slight surprise, then laughed, "He Ye certainly has the inside track. Are you guys coming to cheer me on?"

"Of course, we are," Xu Chu smiled enchantingly. "I haven't actually cheered for you properly yet."

Her complexion was delicate and crystalline, her lips richly crimson and vibrant, full and ample. Her nose bridge was high and straight, with small, narrow wings. Her slightly deep-set eyes gave her bright, captivating gaze a strong three-dimensional quality. Her smooth forehead curved gracefully, and her heart-shaped face was sharply contoured. Even without makeup, she possessed a certain star quality.

Her physique was noticeably larger than that of women from the south, and her shoulder width surpassed that of northern girls, further enhancing her exotic charm.

The more he looked, the more she resembled the beautiful legend of Sicily.

Unable to resist, he asked directly, "Has anyone ever told you that you look like Monica Bellucci?"

Xu Chu let out a soft laugh, cast him a seductive glance, walked over to her writing desk, picked up a few photo albums, and turned to hand them to him.

Opening them, Wang Zhuo understood immediately: this woman knew perfectly well whom she resembled, as she had taken an entire set of photos with an Italian theme, clearly embodying the heroine, Malèna!

Wang Zhuo had intended to stay for only a short while and then leave, but upon seeing this album, he found it difficult to move. Malèna was Renato's childhood fantasy object; wasn't she his as well? While Renato could only indulge in fantasy because he couldn't possess Malèna, he, Wang Zhuo, had a young, beautiful, and devoted Malèna right beside him. If not now, when?

A surge of desire boiled up in him. He reached out, grabbed Xu Chu’s arm, and pulled her into his embrace, his fingertips gently stroking her thick, soft crimson lips. What attracted him most about Monica Bellucci were those lips, and Xu Chu's were an exact match—the only difference was that hers weren't painted with lipstick.

"I can't wait any longer; cheer me on right now," he said breathlessly, undoing his belt, preparing to pull off his trousers.

Xu Chu quickly shook her head, pressing down on his hand: "No, you have a match this afternoon; you need to conserve your energy."

The match? To the devil with the match! Laying up against a beauty was far more satisfying than laying up against a basket! Wang Zhuo batted her hand away and pushed her down: "It's fine. Your little mouth can recharge me."

...

As he admired those sexy red lips gradually enveloping his pride, inch by inch, fraction by fraction, Wang Zhuo understood another profound truth.

It turned out that besides the advantages of pride, conquest, and visual pleasure, this method of play offered an unparalleled sense of immersion during fantasy.

Xu Chu knew that in this moment, in Wang Zhuo's eyes, she had transformed into the beautiful Malèna of Sicily, the Italian beauty Monica. Yet, she felt no distress over being a substitute; she only felt pride.

While Wang Zhuo, that discerning judge, rode the magnificent Ferghana horse that was Xu Chu to his heart's content, the warm-up for the basketball game was already underway on the court.

His teammates’ calls to Wang Zhuo’s phone were all being answered by his little secretary.

Time flew by swiftly, and Wang Zhuo's physical energy was steadily depleting. Five minutes before the game began, he finally erupted deep within Xu Chu’s body, concluding his nostalgic journey to Sicily with a wave of satisfaction.

Xu Chu's soul had wandered away several times; if Wang Zhuo hadn't been careful to silence her, even the old auntie guarding the downstairs gate might have been alerted.

She trembled and hummed in the afterglow of pleasure, her entire body limp, lacking the strength to even lift a finger.

Seeing her in this state, Wang Zhuo patted her behind proudly: "I'm heading to the game now. Don't you dare fall asleep; you still need to cheer for me later!"

In those final five minutes, Wang Zhuo dressed, left, rushed downstairs, and bolted toward the stadium, paying no mind to anyone who noticed him.

When he reached the court, the center, Luo Dayong, was already facing off against the opposing center, ready for the tip-off. Their small forward was visibly intimidated by the opponent's strength and immediately asked to be substituted as soon as Instructor Wang arrived.

"Damn, Instructor Wang finally made it!"

"Why is he so late? He’s going on without warming up; can he even play?"

"Go, Instructor Wang! Give us a facial shot!"

"Instructor Wang might finally meet his match today; that guy is six-foot-three. Where did such an awesome player come from?"

"I think our school is going to lose today. Damn it; one guy at six-foot-seven, and two over six-foot-three—this isn't a regular university team; it’s a sports academy!"

"Tell me about it. Geng Bin's height only works for power forward, but Luo Dayong is slow on his feet; can he keep up?"

"Why are you all whining? As long as Instructor Wang is on the court, he can sweep those inferior goods. Just watch the show!"

Amidst the chatter, Wang Zhuo stepped onto the court. Although he was a full head shorter than the opposing six-foot-three small forward, he instilled a great deal of confidence in his teammates and the watching students.

"Your nickname is Instructor Wang?" the six-foot-three guy asked, raising an eyebrow with slight disdain. "Instructor of what, exactly?"

"Movement instructor," Wang Zhuo replied coolly, seeing the other’s arrogant manner. "I can instruct on layups, fighting, picking up girls, and so on."

Layups and fighting were easy to understand, but what did 'picking up girls' have to do with the 'movement' part of movement instructor? The six-foot-three guy was about to retort when his teammate, who was involved in the tip-off, tossed the ball their way.

Wang Zhuo moved like the wind; with a pivot of his foot, he turned his back to the six-foot-three opponent, seizing the prime receiving spot that rightfully belonged to the other player. Then, he leaped up, not to catch the ball, but to immediately tip it toward Geng Bin, the power forward who was cutting hard toward the baseline.

"Two points!"

"Good job, Geng Bin!"

"Instructor Wang with the assist! Instructor Wang is mighty! Go, Instructor Wang!"

"We want a facial shot!"

The six-foot-three guy, Jiang Ketian, walked to the offensive half feeling annoyed. In a moment of inattention, he had his ball stolen by this shorter guy called Instructor Wang, who then executed a fast-break play. It was humiliating.

"You’re Jiang Ketian?" Wang Zhuo grinned at him. "I hear you play pretty well. How about we go one-on-one?"

"Huh?" Jiang Ketian burst out laughing. Is this guy serious? I’m a semi-pro player with league games; what kind of player are you? Just because you got an assist on me, you think you can take me one-on-one?

He immediately decided not to waste words on this kid; verbal sparring was pointless. He would let the ball do the talking!

The moment he made a move to ask for the ball, Wang Zhuo, who was staring at him, suddenly moved. Jiang Ketian felt a jolt and sensed immediate trouble, but by the time he initiated his footwork, it was already too late!

Jiang Ketian's teammate, seeing him and Wang Zhuo talking—seemingly trading trash talk—also decided to settle it with the ball. After all, Jiang Ketian was the ace of their team, their absolute secret weapon. He couldn't believe this guy called Instructor Wang was any match for Jiang Ketian.

But just as the pass was being executed between the two, Wang Zhuo instantly detected the pass through subtle muscle movements and cut toward it like a sharp sword. He stuck out his right hand and snatched the ball into his grasp.

To the spectators, it looked like an interception made with foreknowledge. The moment the passer’s arm moved, Wang Zhuo’s body was already closing in, and by the time the ball was released, it was almost as if it had been passed to Wang Zhuo!

Amidst thunderous cheers, Wang Zhuo moved alone and clean, ending the fast break following the steal with a crisp three-step layup, making the score four to zero, before many of the other players had even touched the ball!

"Shit!" Jiang Ketian instantly cursed, but not at Wang Zhuo; he cursed the point guard who passed the ball to him: "Tang Laoya, what the hell were you doing, passing the ball right to him?"

The point guard looked equally frustrated. The pass was supposed to be a surefire connection; the opposing guard covering him hadn't reacted at all. Who knew this guy called Instructor Wang would suddenly dart out of nowhere? It made no sense; it must have been pure dumb luck!

"Go! Give me the ball!" Jiang Ketian angrily waved his hand, throwing the ball to Tang Laoya. He had exerted all his strength just moments ago trying to catch up to Wang Zhuo and had watched Wang Zhuo score the layup in utter frustration.

Tang Laoya reached out to catch the ball, whoosh—a figure flashed past him, the wind rustling his jersey, but the ball was gone.

CRASH!

The backboard shook violently, and a figure landed lightly. Amidst earth-shattering cheers, he slowly jogged back toward the rear court.

Jiang Ketian's mouth opened, but the curse got stuck. He had thrown that pass. Not only was it intercepted mid-flight, but the man had completed it with a flat-ground jumping dunk!

"Jiang Ketian! What the hell are you two doing, letting him score six points!" A deep, booming curse came from the frontcourt. The center finally couldn't stand their idiotic play.

Just then, earth-shaking cheers erupted from the sidelines, punctuated by a chorus of clear, uniform female voices chanting, "Dunk him, dunk him!" And the word "dunk" was pronounced with a sharp, high tone! No one knew where the outwardly declining Medical University had conjured up so many female students, nor why they were shouting such provocative cheers.