As Wang Yi came out of the restroom, Anjiali repeatedly urged him to go to the hospital with her.
"Wang, listen to me. You have to take care of your health. You know diarrhea can actually kill you, especially after you've gone so many times and still have to play an intense game."
Wang Yi's forehead was beaded with sweat, and his face was pale, but he shook his head.
"No. I have to play."
Wang Yi was the kind of person who wouldn't change his mind once he'd made it—not even if ten oxen tried to pull him back. Seeing that she couldn't talk him out of it, Anjiali could only ask the team doctor for some more medicine for his diarrhea and give it to him.
At last, the two of them made their way back to the sidelines through the Player Tunnel. The moment Wang Yi emerged, he glanced at the score.
To his surprise, the Kings were still leading by seven points.
After Wang Yi left the game in the first quarter, Westbrook had exploded, scoring 17 points in the quarter, while Mouth Brother had already spent all 18 of his points in the first.
The Lakers had wanted to use the time Wang Yi was off the court to build a lead, but they hadn't managed to pull ahead. Instead, the Kings had taken the lead.
When the coach saw Wang Yi return, he asked, "How are you feeling?"
Wang Yi gave the coach an OK sign. "I'll be fine after another two minutes of rest."
Although he'd used a sitting toilet, his legs had still gone numb from sitting too long.
And after going so many times today, his legs were weak and shaky.
He needed a little time to recover.
So the coach