May 14, 2000, Alamodome, San Antonio.
As the Knicks' chartered plane landed in New York, another do-or-die battle was just beginning in Texas, two thousand kilometers away.
When Li Fei returned to his penthouse apartment in Manhattan, Monica Bellucci was watching television in the living room.
The Italian goddess wore a simple white bathrobe, curled up on the sofa with a glass of red wine in hand. On the television screen, San Antonio fans were wildly waving silver-and-black towels.
"Back already?" Monica looked up with a smile. "How does a sweep feel?"
Li Fei walked over to the sofa and bent down to kiss her forehead. "As natural as breathing."
Monica laughed and gave him a light smack. "Falk called. He said your sneaker sales rose another 15%. He also said the people at Nike were cursing up a storm."
Li Fei sat down on the sofa, his gaze falling on the television screen. "Let them curse. How's the game going?"
"The third quarter just started. The Spurs are up by five." Monica handed him the wine. "But everyone says this game will decide the entire Western Conference landscape."
Li Fei took the glass and leaned back against the sofa, watching the silent giant in the number 21 jersey on the screen.
Tim Duncan, the 1997 first overall pick and a representative of the league's new generation of big men. Quiet, steady, expressionless—yet he dominated games in the simplest, most unadorned way.
"Duncan really is good," Li Fei said softly. "But he still lacks someone beside him who can take over in crucial possessions."
Monica leaned against his shoulder. "Someone like you?"
Li Fei said nothing, only the corner of his lips lifting slightly.
San Antonio Overtime
The noise inside the Alamodome was nearly enough to blow the roof off.