Wang Yi shook his head helplessly at that.
The system really was as stingy as ever, unwilling to give up even a single hair.
The intrasquad scrimmage ended 20 minutes later, with the reserves winning 54–47.
The reserves were all thrilled. It wasn't often they beat the starters.
The starters, meanwhile, bent over on the floor and started doing push-ups in resignation.
The Kings' current rule was that the losing side had to do 100 push-ups.
Westbrook looked at Wang Yi, then at the other starters, and shook his head helplessly. "Sorry, I let you guys down. My shooting was absolute garbage!"
Wang Yi shook his head, patted him on the shoulder, and reassured him. "Don't say that, Russell. Everyone has off days. Do you know why I insisted on putting you on our team?"
"Why?"
Westbrook asked.
"It was to train our on-court chemistry," Wang Yi said.
"Why?"
Westbrook asked why a second time.
Wang Yi answered again. "You know, I once promised you that we wouldn't just win a championship together—I also wouldn't let people say you only won one because you rode on someone else's coattails."
Wang Yi had chosen his words carefully.
He hadn't said, "I'll help you win a championship," or "I'll teach you how to win one." He'd said, "We'll win a championship together."
At that, Westbrook looked at Wang Yi. "So you're planning to put me in during the next series?"
Wang Yi nodded solemnly. "Not only will I put you in, I think you'll impress everyone with your performance!"
Westbrook felt a little warmth rise in his heart, but then he thought of how he'd played just now and sighed. "But you saw my shot. At this rate, it feels like no amount of practice will fix it."
Wang Yi smiled and