Late on the night of August 17, 2025.
Ryan was curled up in his room, his eyes glued to his phone screen. On the sports channel's live broadcast, the players of the national team were hanging their heads, their eyes filled with tears.
"3.9 seconds left! The team has one last chance! Coach Shiqiang has called a timeout!" The commentator's voice was tense and excited.
Ryan's heart was pounding, his palms sweaty. This was the closest the national team had ever been to winning the Continental Cup. 89 to 90, they were down by just one point!
The timeout ended, and the game resumed.
"The ball is passed to Mingxuan! He's at the three-point line! This is the last chance!"
On the screen, after catching the ball, Mingxuan faced the tight defense of an opposing player. He dribbled steadily, looking for an opportunity to shoot. The clock was ticking down: 3 seconds... 2 seconds...
Mingxuan decisively jumped and took the three-point shot!
The entire world seemed to stand still. The basketball drew a beautiful arc in the air, and everyone's eyes followed its path. Ryan could even hear his own heartbeat, thump... thump... thump...
"It's no good! The shot missed! The game is over! The national team loses to their opponents 89 to 90, regretfully taking second place in the Continental Cup..."
On the screen, Mingxuan held his head in his hands, kneeling on the floor, his shoulders trembling slightly. His teammates came over to comfort him, but you could see the frustration and regret in everyone's eyes.
On the TV, the opposing players were celebrating wildly as golden confetti rained down from above.
"If only I could've been out there..." Ryan muttered to himself, then let out a bitter laugh.
Him? A scrawny young man, 188cm tall and weighing only 75kg, an amateur who even got picked last at the neighborhood court. How could he still be having such a daydream?
Ryan had loved basketball since he was a kid. From the moment Ming entered the big league, he became the nation's most loyal basketball fan. But reality was harsh. He had no talent, no height, no strength, and even his basic dribbling wasn't smooth. When he tried to join the school team in high school, he was cut in the first round of tryouts.
"You're not built for basketball. You should just focus on your studies," the coach had said at the time. The condescending tone in his voice was still etched in Ryan's memory.
Ever since then, he could only be an armchair fan, playing coach from his couch online and cheering for the national team during live streams. But every loss, every near-miss, felt like a knife twisting in his heart.
"Why does our team always fall just a little bit short..." Tears welled up in Ryan's eyes.
They weren't tears of anger or despair, but of deep, profound regret. He lamented every one of the team's heartbreaks, lamented that the players' hard work didn't get the reward it deserved, and most of all, lamented his own helplessness.
On his phone screen, the post-game interview was underway.
"Do you have anything to say about this game?" a beautiful female reporter asked, holding the microphone out to the national team's head coach, Shiqiang.
Ryan noticed the reporter. She looked to be around thirty, dressed in a professional suit with long, flowing hair and a sharp, focused gaze. Her press badge read: Yuxin, Sports Channel Reporter.
"We gave it our all," Shiqiang's voice was heavy. "The final play was executed well, and Mingxuan's shot selection was correct. But that's basketball for you; sometimes, a near miss is as good as a mile. These young men have exceeded my expectations. They are the future of our country's basketball."
Yuxin nodded, then turned to the camera: "To our viewers, although we lost by a single point in the Continental Cup, our men's national team has shown incredible fight. Especially in the final moments, the players played with a heart that honored the jersey. I believe that if we keep pushing, one day..."
She didn't finish her sentence, but Ryan knew what she wanted to say. One day, our country's basketball team will stand at the top of the world. But when would that day finally come?
Ryan's mind kept replaying Mingxuan's final shot: the perfect catch, the calm jump, the standard shooting form... but it just didn't go in. It was that cruel, just that little bit short.
Ryan turned off his phone, and the room plunged into darkness. A few stars twinkled in the night sky, faint but persistent, just like the hopes he held in his heart.
"If only... if only Mingxuan's shot had gone in..." he murmured, tears streaming down his face.
They weren't tears of anger or despair, but of deep regret. He lamented the three-pointer that rimmed out, lamented another heartbreaking loss for the team, lamented the heavy burden on Mingxuan's shoulders, and most of all, lamented his own powerlessness.
He imagined what it would have been like if the ball had gone in: Mingxuan would have thrown his arms up in victory, his teammates would have rushed to embrace him, the national flag would have been raised in a foreign arena, and billions of people back home would have erupted in celebration...
"If only I could travel back in time," Ryan said to the dark ceiling. "If I could start over, I would definitely make our team stronger... I would make sure that shot goes in!"
It was just the late-night rambling of a fan, the fantasy of someone helpless. Ryan knew it was impossible, but on this night filled with both regret and hope, he allowed himself to dream.
Just then, a strange gust of wind howled outside his window, like something was moving quickly through the air. Ryan frowned. Where would a wind like that come from this late at night?
He got up, walked to the window, and pulled back the curtains to look outside. The night sky was still calm, the stars still twinkled, and nothing seemed out of the ordinary. But for some reason, he felt a wave of dizziness, and the scene before him began to blur.
"What's happening..." Ryan shook his head, trying to clear it, but the dizziness grew stronger.
His vision started to warp, as if time itself had frozen in that instant. The stars began to spin, the moon swayed, and the entire world became unreal before his eyes.
"What is... this..."
Ryan's voice grew fainter as his consciousness began to fade. He felt his body sinking, or rather, being pulled by some force. The sensation was strange—not frightening, but filled with an inexplicable sense of security, like returning to a mother's embrace.
In the final moment before losing consciousness, Ryan heard a voice, very soft, yet exceptionally clear:
"Wish received. Initiating temporal teleportation..."
And then, everything went silent.
The night went on, and people continued to sleep, unaware that a basketball miracle was about to be born in this unremarkable room.
And on Ryan's phone screen, the final score of the game remained frozen at 89:90. The slow-motion replay of Mingxuan's final three-point attempt was still looping—an eternal regret, a history that was about to be rewritten.