Belucci, Julie, and Larsa Send Congratulations!

Head coach Jeff Van Gundy cleared his throat, and the locker room immediately fell silent.

He adjusted the glasses on his nose, excitement and caution flickering together in his eyes behind the lenses.

"Gentlemen, this was a great victory. We executed the game plan perfectly."

Van Gundy's voice was not loud, but it carried force. "Li, you made the right decision. You sacrificed your personal stats... no, you didn't sacrifice anything. You simply found another way to dominate the game."

The room broke into good-natured laughter.

Van Gundy smiled as well, but his expression soon turned serious. "But listen up, guys! This is only one game! The series is best of seven! We're only up 2-1—we haven't won anything yet!"

"Phil Jackson and Michael Jordan won't just surrender. Right now, they're definitely in the locker room next door, thinking about how to tear us apart. So we have to keep this up—the same form, the same focus, the same intensity! Next game, we'll keep hitting them head-on in their own building!"

"YES, COACH!" the players roared in unison, their morale soaring to its peak.

In the Chicago Bulls' locker room just one wall away, the atmosphere was as oppressive as a graveyard.

The players sat in their own spots with their heads lowered, and no one spoke. Towels, ice packs, and sports drink bottles lay scattered across the floor. The air was filled with the bitter mingled smell of sweat and defeat.

Jordan sat in front of his locker with a towel draped over his head. Even the huge towel could not conceal the towering fury radiating from him. Karl Malone's face was livid, his fists clenched so tightly that veins bulged across the backs of his hands.

For the entire game, Li Fei had held him to 2-for-12 shooting