"Brother Yi, Bales admitting defeat is trending everywhere!"
Little Rivers ran over with his phone in hand.
The phrase "Bales can't bash him" was followed by a bright red "Trending" tag on the screen.
The comments below were all fans teasing him.
Wang Yi glanced at it and casually picked up a towel to wipe away his sweat.
"He's just telling it like it is."
His tone was even, though a hint of amusement lurked in his eyes.
As his teammates gradually left, the locker room grew quiet.
Wang Yi slowly took off his jersey.
He opened his locker. Inside was a faded wristband.
He'd used it when he first joined the league. It was no longer suitable for games, but he'd kept it with him all this time.
His phone buzzed. It was a video call from his wife.
On the screen, his daughter held up a cheering sign and shouted loudly.
"Daddy's the best! Daddy, MVP!"
"Wait for Daddy. I'll be home tomorrow."
Wang Yi's voice softened without him realizing it.
With the sharpness of the court left behind, he was just an ordinary father now.
By the time the team bus left the arena, night had fallen.
The streets of San Antonio were still brightly lit.
Plenty of Chinese-descendant fans stood by the roadside, cheering and holding signs that read "Wang Yi, 65 points."
He rolled down the window and waved to them.
It was nearly midnight when he got back to the hotel.
Wang Yi sat at the dining table, eating the late-night snack his nutritionist had prepared while scrolling through his phone.
Social media was full of discussion about the game.
There was Reggie Miller's praise, highlight reels made by fans, and news about Wemby crying after the game.
He opened a photo of Wemby