Back in his room, Li Fei made no further attempt to sleep. Instead, he sat at the desk, took out the playbook, and went over the tactics again, refining every detail.
The noise outside persisted, but he had become able to shut it out completely and devote himself wholeheartedly to preparing for the game.
He stayed awake all night.
Early the next morning, the Knicks players gradually emerged from their rooms. Every face was exhausted, with dark circles clearly visible beneath their eyes.
The harassment from the night before had left them barely able to sleep. Some players had only dozed for an hour or two, while others had not slept at all, leaving them physically and mentally drained.
At breakfast, no one spoke. The atmosphere was somewhat oppressive, and everyone wore unmistakable expressions of exhaustion and discontent.
Sprewell's face remained grim, his brow furrowing from time to time. Clearly, last night's harassment still gnawed at him.
Houston rubbed his temples, his eyes full of exhaustion. "I barely slept a wink last night. That noise was torture. I probably won't even have the strength to train today."
Marshall nodded as well, speaking with displeasure. "Los Angeles fans are way too crazy. They actually resorted to such dirty tricks. And those cops—they didn't do a damn thing."
Sabonis set down his knife and fork and said softly, "Stop complaining. Complaining won't solve anything. What we can do now is adjust as quickly as possible and deal with today's practice and tomorrow's game."
Li Fei looked at everyone and spoke slowly. "I know you're all exhausted and unhappy, but right now, we have to put those emotions aside."
"What happened last night is already a fact. We can't change it, but we can change our mindset and our condition."
"Today's practice doesn't