Wang Yi took the shot.
A LOGO three-pointer!!!
And as soon as the ball left his hands, he turned around, Back to the Basket.
He raised his right hand high and held up three fingers.
This time, the three-pointer didn't swish through the net.
Instead, it slammed through with tremendous force, streaking across half the court like a cannonball.
Bang!
It crashed into the basket.
And it crashed into Staples Center.
Boom—
The entire arena erupted.
"Oh my God!"
"A LOGO three-pointer!"
"Good heavens, what am I seeing!?"
"He turned around and raised his hand to celebrate before it even went in. That's so cool!"
The noise level in the arena shot up sharply.
After all, a LOGO three-pointer was an incredible sight.
And after shooting one, he'd turned around and celebrated before the ball even went in.
Even Curry had never pulled off such a cocky move.
It wasn't just the fans in the arena—even the two commentators who'd been making fun of him moments ago couldn't help shouting:
"Oh my God! What am I seeing?"
"A LOGO three-pointer! Unbelievable! He actually did it!"
"He's the Lakers' Stephen Curry!"
"Don't you think the way he turned his back to the basket and raised three fingers with his right hand was just so cool?"
That was how many live NBA commentators were: they changed their tune with the wind.
They'd been making fun of Wang Yi a moment ago, but now they were praising him to the skies without a hint of embarrassment.
On the arena's big screen, the camera lingered on Wang Yi for a long while.
Then, a moment later, it turned to Curry on the sidelines.
Warriors head coach Kerr could only shake his head helplessly and glance at Curry.
So this was what it felt like when the other team had a Curry.
Curry hadn't moved a muscle, but his eyes were already burning with intensity.
Meanwhile, the Lakers' bench had leaped to its feet.
Several substitutes were waving their towels furiously.
Even some of the starters were jumping and exchanging high-fives after that unbelievable shot.
Brow shot to his feet, his thick brows lifting sharply.
His wide eyes were full of disbelief.
James quickly stood up, raised both hands, and held up three fingers on each to signal a three-pointer.
His expression was exaggerated as he kept saying, "Oh my God... Oh my God... Oh my God..."
Across the ocean, in the Tencent NBA Live Broadcast Room,
the two commentators' eyes were shining with excitement.
"Six threes in two minutes, including a LOGO three! My goodness!"
"Good heavens, that's incredible—absolutely explosive!"
"Eighteen points! Wang Yi has scored eighteen in two minutes. This is beyond belief!"
Since it was garbage time, most viewers had already left the stream.
Those still watching began flooding the chat with comments.
"666666666..."
"Insane, 666!"
"No way, is Brother Yi finally about to rise up?"
"He didn't even look at the basket after that LOGO three—he turned around and celebrated early. I wish I had a boyfriend that cool."
Of course, there were haters too.
"Heh. He's played two years in the NBA and scored less than a hundred points total. He gets lucky and makes a few threes in one game, and suddenly everyone's hyping him up."
"He should just come back. Stop embarrassing us."
"Let's see him make a few more."
"You should keep a low profile. Turning around to celebrate after a three is arrogant and disrespectful."
"If he makes eight threes, I'll eat shit on a livestream while standing on my head."
Someone immediately shot back:
"Why don't you eat the dog shit you already owe first?"
On the court,
after sinking that three, Wang Yi's confidence had soared to its peak.
The deficit had shrunk to 19 points.
He gritted his teeth and clenched his right fist tightly.
It hurt, but he was thrilled too.
Fight!
This was the kind of fight he wanted!
His body trembled with excitement, and his blood was burning.
Lots of players had turned around to celebrate right after releasing a shot.
James had done it, and so had Curry.
But Wang Yi was the first to turn around and celebrate immediately after shooting a LOGO three.
He believed in keeping a low profile in life.
But basketball was a showy sport by nature.
On the court, you were supposed to bring out everything you had and let your personality shine.
If you weren't going to show off while playing, what was the point of playing?
Keep a low profile in life, but play with flair!
Afro watched helplessly as the ball slammed into the basket and bounced on the floor.
His eyes widened as if he'd seen a ghost, and for a long moment, he couldn't utter a sound.
Wang Yi glanced at him and said calmly,
"Don't forget the 100 dollars."
Only then did Afro snap out of it.
He swore, "Shit! You've pissed me off, Oriental!"
But Wang Yi had already turned and run back on defense.
On the next possession, the Warriors' attack was stopped.
The Lakers' point guard dribbled across half court and passed the ball straight to Wang Yi.
He also set a screen, planning to free Wang Yi up to shoot a three.
Wang Yi was already getting carried away.
He waved a hand. "No!"
He signaled for the point guard to move aside.
The point guard could only shrug and clear some space.
Facing Afro, Wang Yi had wanted to beckon him with a finger.
But that would count as taunting and earn him a technical foul.
Wang Yi wasn't afraid of a technical, but one would cost him a fine of 25,000 US Dollars.
For Wang Yi, who'd only signed a ten-day contract, that was a huge sum.
So he suppressed the urge to beckon and said in his less-than-perfect American English,
"Come on."
Afro was already fired up.
He strode up to Wang Yi, planted his feet wide, and took a stance as if ready to defend with his life.
A mysterious curve lifted the corner of Wang Yi's mouth.
He suddenly stepped to the right with his right foot.
Afro hurried to follow.
But Wang Yi had already pulled his right foot back.
At the same time, he jumped.
Afro realized he'd been fooled, cursed "Fuck!" to himself, and hurried to leap up and contest the shot.
The opening had only lasted an instant.
But Wang Yi had already released the three.
On the sidelines, every Lakers player stood up.
All the fans fixed their eyes on the ball.
Swish!
The ball went through the net.
At the same time, Afro came down too hard and knocked Wang Yi to the floor.
Tweet—
The shot went in, and the whistle blew.
Afro had committed a Defensive Foul.
"Whoa—"
The arena erupted once again.
"Seven threes! My goodness!"
"Twenty-one points in two and a half minutes! That scoring explosion is outrageous!"
"This Oriental is incredible! How can someone this good be on a ten-day contract? The Lakers need to give him a guaranteed deal before another team snatches him up and they regret it!"
The two commentators kept screaming:
"Wow! That's absolutely one of the most unbelievable performances I've ever seen!"
"Incredible! Just incredible!"
Compared with those two commentators, the Chinese fans across the ocean had far more ways to express themselves, and their reactions were much more varied.
"Holy crap!"
"Holy shit!"
"Fuck me!"
On the court, Wang Yi looked at Afro.
I just rose up and shot right over your head, and there was nothing you could do.
That felt amazing!
Afro's face had gone dark as iron.
He wasn't spouting trash anymore.
He just stood there without saying a word.
The player he'd been guarding had scored more than ten points right over him in barely two minutes.
And on that last shot, Wang Yi had explicitly challenged him to guard him, then drained an ultra-long three right over his head.
It wasn't very harmful, but it was deeply humiliating.
How could he still have the nerve to talk trash?
He'd just said he'd defend this guy so well he'd cry and crawl back to the East.
But now, not only was Wang Yi not crying—Afro himself was on the verge of tears after watching him score.
After Wang Yi made the free throw,
the scoreboard showed:
Lakers 97, Warriors 112.
They were down by just 15.
From 35 points behind to 15, it seemed to have happened in an instant.
With two and a half minutes left and a 15-point deficit, coming back seemed almost impossible.
But after Wang Yi's incredible performance, who could say that for sure?
If Wang Yi made two more threes, the deficit would be down to single digits.
The Warriors' head coach quickly called another Timeout.
As he called it, he was a little annoyed.
"Double-team him! I want him double-teamed!"
The Warriors players were all stunned when they heard their coach.
They wondered if they'd heard him wrong.
Why were they doubling a guy they'd only signed to a ten-day contract, whose name they couldn't even remember?
That was giving him far too much credit.
But no one dared question the head coach's orders:
"Double-team him as soon as he gets the ball. Make him pass it to someone else. Under no circumstances can we let him take another three."
When they took the floor again, the Warriors immediately sent a double-team at Wang Yi.
The commentators at the game laughed. "Oh, did you see that? Did you see?"
The other commentator laughed along. "The Warriors are actually double-teaming him. That's an honor."
The crowd laughed, too.
But Wang Yi couldn't laugh.
His wrist was already injured, and dribbling made it hurt.
Now he was facing a double-team.
He could only pass the ball out as quickly as possible, hoping his open teammates could seize the opportunity.
Unfortunately, his teammates missed both of their three-point attempts.
Even so, Wang Yi kept moving around screens, searching for a chance.
In the final two and a half minutes, he found two more openings.
He sank two three-pointers.
Each time he hit one, the arena erupted.
Finally, the buzzer sounded.
The score stood at 111 to 118.
The Los Angeles Lakers narrowly lost by seven points.
Yet the crowd showed no sign of disappointment.
They didn't know Wang Yi's name, so they chanted his jersey number instead.
"Number one!"
"Number one!"
"Number one!"
They'd lost, but seemed even happier than if they'd won.
The team's star, James, came over right away and gave Wang Yi a tight hug.
"Brother, you really did it. Twenty-eight points in five minutes! Thank you for letting me witness a great performance!"
Thick Eyebrows came over, too, and slapped hands with Wang Yi in celebration.
The Los Angeles Lakers had lost, yet they were acting like they'd won.
Meanwhile, the Warriors had won, but their players all looked grim, even a little dejected.
Their head coach in particular was drenched in cold sweat.
They'd been up by thirty with five minutes left. It should have been an easy blowout.
Instead, they'd nearly let the other team come back.
If they really had blown the lead, he would probably have been branded with a permanent stain in the history books, never able to live it down.
Before you continue