Auntie Kicking Bowls' Performance
During halftime, in the Kings' locker room.
As soon as Wang Yi returned to the locker room, he took off his shoes and socks, loosened his ankles, and lay straight down on the floor.
His chest heaved violently as he panted heavily, like an old ox that had just plowed three acres of land.
Sweat kept running down him, one drop at a time.
It had been a long time since he'd played this hard.
Across two 24-minute halves, he'd been the one attacking on every possession, handling the ball every time.
Anyone would be worn out.
All his teammates watched Wang Yi.
Little bootlicker Mitchell came over and asked him, "How are you, boss?"
"Whew..."
Wang Yi's labored breathing was the only answer.
James Wells, Wang Yi's personal trainer, came over with a deep frown.
"Wang, you can't keep doing this. It's putting far too much strain on your body."
The head coach urged him too. "Wang, we know you want to score a lot and respond to what happened. We'll help you put up points, but you can't go one-on-one every possession."
Wang Yi kept panting. When his chest wasn't heaving quite so hard, he finally said,
"No. I have to do this."
Then he closed his eyes and didn't say another word.
He was so exhausted that even speaking felt like hard work.
The head coach glanced at James Wells.
James Wells's brows had knitted into a knot, but all he could do was sigh.
For the past two years, he'd spent every day with Wang Yi. It was no exaggeration to say he'd spent more time with Wang Yi than anyone else, even Nicole.
He knew Wang Yi's personality all too well.
Once Wang Yi made up his mind, not even nine