The ball went in, and the entire AT&T Center fell silent.
The camera immediately cut to Wang Yi.
Then it switched to a view of the Raptors' backcourt baseline.
From this angle, Wang Yi sat at center court, his arms resting on his knees.
His hands were clasped together, and he looked completely at ease.
At the far end behind him, the basketball that had gone in was bouncing across the floor.
All nine other players on the court were staring at Wang Yi.
Pang Bo wore an incredulous, stunned expression.
Lillard spread his hands.
As if to say, There's just no dealing with this guy.
Seth Curry, supposedly one of the league's best shooters this year, was clutching his head with both hands.
He looked like he'd seen a ghost.
The body language and expressions of every player on the court said the same thing: shock, disbelief, and sheer bewilderment.
Someone even seemed to mouth, "Dammit."
"Holy shit!"
Behind Wang Yi,
Wemby looked down at Wang Yi, who was sitting in front of him with his back turned.
His expression held both shock and despair.
He'd defended him as well as anyone could, yet the guy still made the shot. Not only that, he'd pulled up from the center circle and buried a long-range shot.
To Wemby, it felt as if no matter how hard he tried, Wang Yi would always find a way to score. It left him feeling helpless.
When he'd first joined the league, every time he faced Wang Yi, he'd get beaten black and blue.
He'd been down for a while, and he'd gone through a slump.
But with his coach's guidance and more games under his belt, he'd grown stronger. His mental toughness had improved, and so had his confidence.
By the time he