Yao Ming laughed heartily and said to Wang Yi:
"There may still be debate over who the league's top player is, but there's no doubt you're the player who knows how to put on a show better than anyone."
Wang Yi nodded. "I'll take that."
Yao Ming asked him, "When you face Morant, Wemby, and King Arthur next, what kind of show are you planning to put on?"
Wang Yi chuckled. "You'll just have to watch the game and see."
"I don't have time to fly around with you, but I'll watch the game live."
The two exchanged a few pleasantries.
Then Yao Ming left the court.
Meanwhile, McGrady was vacationing on a beach in Miami. He was watching the game broadcast from his ocean-view hotel, and when he saw Wang Yi hit that final three, he couldn't help thinking back to 26 years ago.
Back then, he'd been young and wild.
As the Chinese saying went, he'd been a young man with a silver spear and a white horse, galloping like a poem and winning every battle.
That was the night he'd borrowed 35 seconds from God.
And he'd spent every bit of the luck he'd been given in those 35 seconds.
But look at Wang Yi. He'd made those 35 seconds look so easy.
And judging by the whole game, it seemed he'd decided from the start to put on a big show in those final 35 seconds.
He hadn't scored at all early on, making everyone think he was having an off night. Then, in the final 35 seconds, he'd thoroughly humiliated all the haters.
Those 13 points in 35 seconds, planned well in advance, were worlds apart from McGrady's 13 points in 35 seconds, which had been pure luck.
Thinking of that, McGrady stroked his graying